After the wedding, there was much laughter, eating, drinking, and song. Addie floated among the crowd, thanking everyone for coming and trying to make a point of speaking to each person in turn. She was talking with old Mr. Peterson when her new husband took her by the arm and led her across the room. “There’s someone you really must meet, darling.” He smiled at her. They walked through the crowd toward another young couple, about their age. Addie had never seen them before.
“Well, old boy, it’s about time you introduced me to this ravishing bride of yours,” the man said, beaming at Addie.
“Darling, may I present my college roommate and current employer, Harrison Connor, and his lovely wife, Celeste,” Jess said with a flourish. “Harry, Celeste, my wife, Addie.”
“Your wife.” Addie smiled up at him. “I think I like the sound of that.”
“Get used to it, my dear,” Harry laughed. “It’s a title you’ll carry with you for a lifetime.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Addie said to him, taking his hand in hers. “I have heard so much about you from Jess.”
“Not too much, I trust.” Harry laughed and slapped his friend on the back. “Many of those stories are best left in the past, eh? We’re old married men now.”
“Addie, I’m looking forward to seeing you in Wharton.” Celeste smiled as she changed the subject. “My husband is building us a house there, and I understand you two will be taking up residence in that charming village as well.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Addie said, clasping Celeste’s hands. “I’ll be so glad to know someone in Wharton. The prospect of leaving home and moving to a new town where I know no one but my husband is a bit daunting.”
“We’ll do our best to make it exciting for you,” Harrison said, winking at her.
“Celeste, Addie’s never strayed too far from home,” Jess explained, pulling his wife in close to him with one arm. “I was talking with Harry about this earlier—might I prevail upon you to take Addie under your wing, so to speak, when we arrive in Wharton after our honeymoon? With my new position, I’ll have many social responsibilities, and my dear country wife needs to learn the ins and outs of throwing the perfect dinner party.”
“I’d be delighted,” Celeste said warmly, taking Addie by the arm and leading her away from the men. “They believe it’s so complicated, what we do. It’s only a matter of charm and grace, and you seem to have both of those things in spades. You’ll do just fine.”
Phil Stewart passed away in his bed, with his wife and the minister beside him, two weeks to the day after Jess and Addie were married. The young couple were just back from their honeymoon in Chicago when word reached them. Jess had taken his wife on a whirlwind shopping trip to the big city—the train ride alone had thrilled her. Shopping in the large department stores and walking along city streets seemed like a dream to this young woman who had never so much as stepped foot out of the tiny community of Great Bay. Addie marveled at Lake Michigan, so like the Great Lake where she had grown up and yet so very different. This was just a body of water like any other. Her lake back home was alive.
On the very hour of Phil Stewart’s death, boxes upon boxes had arrived on the front porch of Jess and Addie’s new home in Wharton. They were filled with dresses and linens and dishes and candlesticks purchased on their honeymoon trip—everything the young couple needed to set up their new life in style.
The father’s life ending, the son’s life beginning, at exactly the same hour. If Jess had been a man who thought deeply about things, the juxtaposition of these two events might have occurred as odd to him. But it did not. Indeed, he never knew exactly when his father’s life ended. He only knew that his was about to begin.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She was wrapped up in his arms, her lips on his neck, her legs around his waist. He told her he loved her, sweet and low, in her ear. Then the scene changed, and all Kate could see was rain outside her window. Violent thunder, lightning, shouting voices. And then all was still. Whiteness wrapped its tendrils around the house, around her. Where was the lake? Where were the houses across the street? Where was Jess? She felt a sharp pain in her belly and knew it was time. Fog will take your baby.
Startled awake, Kate found sunshine streaming through her windows and a massive dog draped across her chest.
“Morning, girl,” she said, scratching Alaska’s soft fur. Kate lay there awhile, trying to make sense of what had happened to her the night before. Her memories were hazy—had it really even happened?
She remembered her dreams—images and sounds flying by, one after the other. The woman with the violet eyes and her husband, locked in an embrace. The lake in a torrential rainstorm, enormous waves crashing into the shore. Shouts and accusations. Hissed threats. Fog.
She shook those thoughts out of her head and slid out from under the covers. After a quick shower, she pulled on her clothes and headed downstairs to find her cousin talking quietly on the phone in the library. The conversation stopped abruptly when she walked into the room.
“You’re up!” He smiled at her as he spoke into the phone, “She’s awake. I’ll call you later.” He hung up. “Let’s have breakfast!”
“Who was that?” Kate gave Simon a sidelong glance. “Were you talking about me?”
“It was Jonathan, if you must know,” Simon admitted. “And yes, of course we were talking about you. The Big Chill, as it were, has us both worried. How do you feel?”
“Okay,” she said. “None the worse for wear, really.” Kate wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered. “But that was weird last night. Wasn’t it? I mean, if it was some sort of bug that’s going around, it’s short lived. I feel fine now.”
Simon squinted at her. “Do you really? Because you look a little pale.”
“I feel okay. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?”
“Things seem a little out of control. First the dreams and now this.”
“I know,” he sighed. “Come on, let’s have some coffee. Everything seems out of control until you’ve had coffee.”
They settled into a table by the window that Simon had already set with a basket of croissants, a bowl of strawberries, blueberries, and melon, and a pot of French press coffee. Kate poured some into her cup, added cream, and took her first sip.
“Any dreams last night?” Simon asked.
She nodded. “I didn’t really understand them, though. They were just images, one after the other.”
“More scenes from the life of our mystery woman?”
She nodded, remembering. “I think I’ll head up to the third floor and go through some trunks today,” she said, tearing off a bit of her croissant and popping it into her mouth. “I like your idea about looking for a diary or datebook.”
Simon shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “It’s dusty up there and considering what happened last night—”
“I’m fine, Simon. Really.”
He scowled at her. “At least take the day off,” he said. “Relax. De-stress. Will you do that for me?”