The Inn at Misty Lake: Book Two in the Misty Lake Series (16 page)

“Have you ever thought about coaching?” Susan asked him during intermission.

“Interesting you’d ask that. I hadn’t ever considered it, but I got a call just this week from my old high school coach who’s still sacrificing a little of his hair every winter in hopes of one day making it here,” Riley swept his arm out in front of him to encompass the arena, “for the state tournament.  His assistant had to step down mid-season due to health problems so he needs someone to fill in. He asked me to take the job. The season is winding down, it would be a short-term thing, but I know he’s convinced I’ll love it and agree to come back next year.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I’d think about it. He wants an answer by Sunday evening.”

Susan studied him and couldn’t miss the gleam in his eyes. “So you’ve thought about it and you want to do it, but…?”

“But I’m busy. Really busy. I’m putting in long days, working some weekends already. I don’t want to risk getting behind schedule.”

“Riley, if you want to do it, do it. I think you’d be an amazing coach. There have been times tonight when I thought you were going to head down to the bench to have a word with the coaches. And besides, I happen to know your boss will look the other way if you have to cut out early some days.”

Riley’s lip twitched and he snorted a quick chuckle. “Generous of you, but I don’t know…it will suck up a lot of my time for a month or so.”

“Only a month? How far behind can you get in a month?”

“Pretty far.”

“Well, you’ve been saying you’re ahead of schedule so you can probably afford to slack off a little. I’ll tell you what…I’m getting pretty good with that nail gun so I’ll just take over when you have to leave.”

“For that, I just might have to tell coach yes.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Susan had more fun than she’d had in a long time. The game was a nail-biter and, more than once, she found herself on the edge of her seat. When Riley left for a quick trip to the concession stand and returned not only with popcorn and drinks but a giant foam Wild claw for Susan, she was delighted and promptly fit it on her hand and gave it a wave, giving in to the hometown fever sweeping the crowd. She rationalized that she could support two teams even though Riley argued the two were inherently mutually exclusive. Later, when the home team scored the winning goal with under a minute left in the game, she exchanged foam high-fives with the team of youth hockey players seated behind them and enjoyed every moment of it.

They made their way out of the arena and fought the crowd exiting the parking ramp. During the drive to the hotel, Riley rehashed the game, pointing out things that had gone right and things that had gone wrong. “Should have been an easy game but they were lucky to get the win,” he grumbled. “I would imagine they got an earful in the locker room.”

“Spoken like a coach. I hope you’ve realized you need to give it a chance.”

“Yeah, I guess I came to that conclusion tonight. I’ll call coach in the morning.”

“Excellent. And I hope you’re not going to tell me I can’t come to these games because I’ll come anyway.”

“You can come, you can come.”

Once the door of the hotel room closed behind them, Riley grabbed Susan and kissed her deeply.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for hours,” Riley murmured in her ear as he inhaled the spicy, slightly woodsy scent that was Susan and that tied his stomach in knots. “I don’t know what to make of you, Red…you’re smart as hell, you’re the most determined woman I’ve ever met, you get hockey, you somehow make shopping fun, and you smell so good. Are you real?”

Susan laughed as she playfully shoved him back and shrugged off her jacket. “I’m real. And you may want to hold off on your assessment of shopping until after tomorrow. I’ve got big plans, McCabe.”

He watched as her eyes darted around the room and she rubbed her hands up and down on her thighs. “Why don’t you take the bathroom first,” he suggested.

“Thanks. I think I’ll grab a quick shower.”

Susan snatched her bag and darted into the bathroom, closing the door quickly behind her. She leaned against the door for a moment and took a deep breath. Then, chiding herself for being a fool, set about getting ready for bed.

She came out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later wearing blue and white plaid flannel pajamas buttoned up to her chin and fuzzy blue slippers. Riley scratched his head and laughed. “Trying to tell me something, Red?”

“No, just figured it would be cold in here,” she lied.

Laughing again, Riley took his turn in the bathroom.

Susan quickly chose the bed farthest away from the door, grabbed her book and her glasses, and climbed under the covers. She ordered herself to focus on the book and not on the man in the shower on the other side of the wall.

Riley showered, brushed his teeth, and decided he probably should have packed some sweat pants or a pair of shorts or something besides the boxers he was wearing. Wiping the steam off the mirror, he glanced at himself and ran a hand through his damp hair. He figured there was a comb somewhere in his bag, but decided searching for it wasn’t worth the trouble. He opened the door wondering how Susan would feel about his dress, or lack thereof…and found her sound asleep.

She was propped up against a pillow, open book on her chest, and glasses slipping down her nose. Gently, he took the book and set it on the table, removed her glasses, eased her down to the bed, and tucked the blankets around her. He brushed the mass of wild red hair off her forehead and gently touched his lips to hers. “Night, Red,” he whispered.

Susan stirred a little, snuggled down into the pillow, and in her sleep mumbled, “Night. I love you, Riley.”

He froze. What? He whipped his head around as if he’d find someone who could tell him…tell him that he’d just heard Susan say she loved him. He knew he hadn’t imagined it and he knew he was awake so he hadn’t dreamt it. No, he was sure she’d said it. Huh. Of all the things he thought might happen, that wasn’t one of them.

As he watched her sleep, he realized he hoped he’d hear the words again soon, when she was awake, but knew he’d never forget this first time. He ran his fingers down her hair and swore he knew exactly how the Grinch had felt when his heart grew three sizes that day.

“I love you too, Red.”

Saturday was jam-packed with scouring salvage stores and hardware stores. Susan and Riley were able to find a few more things they needed and many more they hadn’t known they needed. They stumbled upon a huge selection of drawer pulls that had been salvaged from an old hotel slated for demolition. Susan fell in love with a design that closely replicated that used on the antique armoire left behind at the inn. She scooped up enough to use on dressers, vanities, and cabinets throughout the inn and was delighted with her find.

Riley’s favorite find, by far, was the reclaimed oak that fit exactly with what he had pictured for the bar top. It looked a bit rustic, had rough-hewn edges and a slightly weathered but not worn look to it…the kind of look that could only be created naturally, never in a factory. He bartered a bit with the shop owner and left with what he wanted at a fraction of what he had expected to pay.

They debated how to best get everything back to Misty Lake. Even with Riley’s truck, they didn’t have space for everything they had purchased. The shop owner who sold them the reclaimed oak gave them an estimate to have everything delivered, but in the end, they decided to rent a trailer and haul it themselves. Once the decision was made, Susan convinced Riley to go back to their first stop where she had seen the vintage claw-foot tub and they added that to their booty. By evening, they were tired, dirty, and hungry.

“I need a shower before we go anywhere,” Susan complained. “I had no idea this would be such a filthy job.” She took in her dusty, stained jeans and her greasy, blackened hands. Unable to find anything better to use to clean her hands, she wiped them on her jeans.

“You’re starting to act like a contractor,” Riley said as he watched her use her jeans to get all the dirt off her hands and out from under her fingernails. Good idea about the showers but I’m starving, let’s make it quick.”

On the drive back to the hotel, Susan caught Riley looking at her with the same strange expression he’d had on his face most of the day. She couldn’t figure it out. It was as if he knew something she didn’t and it wasn’t sitting well with her. She had tried a couple of times to ask him what was going on, but he had simply smirked and claimed he was just enjoying the day. There was more to it, she was certain, but apparently she was going to have to wait him out.

Once they’d cleaned up and changed clothes, they decided against going back out into the cold in search of a restaurant and, instead, headed downstairs to the hotel pub.

The food was good, the live music better, and before Riley could figure out what was happening, he found himself on the dance floor.

“I don’t dance,” he hissed as Susan started to move to the beat.

“Everyone dances. Just relax and have fun.”

“Fun is when I know what I’m doing. This is a particularly brutal form of torture.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.”

She took his hands and led him along with her. He was right, she soon realized, dancing didn’t come naturally to him but he gave it a shot, and for that, she loved him. A strange feeling of déjà vu struck her. Hard. Something about the way Riley was looking down at her and she saying she loved him. But she knew that had never happened. It had probably been a dream, she told herself, but that didn’t feel quite right. She couldn’t shake the feeling but couldn’t put a finger on what she was trying to remember, either. Then the music slowed, Riley held her close, swaying with the rhythm, and she forgot everything but him.

19

Time seemed to move quickly, even during the typically long, endless months of winter. Riley found time between working, playing hockey, and coaching to teach Susan to ice fish and to take her snowmobiling and ice skating. She was a good sport, braving freezing temperatures on the back of a snowmobile, spending an entire Sunday in a fish house, and, to his surprise, keeping up with him on the ice rink. He had given her a good dose of heckling when she’d laced up bright white figure skates, but then stood shocked as she blazed onto the ice and cut a few laps around the rink before executing some kind of fancy jump and spin.

When she had skated fast up to him stopping on a dime mere inches from his face, his jaw had landed somewhere around his chest. He could still hear her laughter and teasing. Eventually, he had put a hockey stick in her hands and they had spent a couple of hours goofing off, even joining a pickup game when a group of middle schoolers were looking for more players.

As he prepped the walls in The Hideaway for painting, his mind wandered as it tended to do when the work didn’t require his full concentration. He ran over his schedule and tried to estimate when the painting would be done. Susan had insisted from the outset that she would do, or at least help with, the painting. She’d be starting tomorrow. He was more than a little curious to see how quickly she moved. She had sworn she knew what she was doing.  And he needed a final decision from her on ceramic tile, as it would go in soon after the painting was done. The thought of tiling eight bathrooms and a kitchen wasn’t a pleasant one. Tiling was far down on his list of favorite jobs and just thinking about how long it would take for a job of such size had him wanting to reach for a beer. He made a mental note to call Travis that night to see if he and maybe one of his guys would be available to help. Travis did good work and would get it done quickly and correctly. Riley started to mentally rearrange his schedule assuming Travis agreed to the job but wouldn’t be able to start right away.

Maybe he’d see if Susan wanted to grab a burger later. He could bring up the topic of the tile over dinner. He glanced at his watch and guessed she would be getting there soon; her shift would be ending in a few minutes and she had told him she’d be heading over straight from town.

They had become a couple over the last few months. Before meeting Susan, he had never given the idea much thought. Sure, he’d dated and sure, he supposed sometimes he and the girl were thought of as a couple, but it hadn’t been the same. In the past it had been fun, but in all honesty, there had never been much closeness or affection, at least on his part. And there certainly hadn’t been love.

He tossed around his idea again. It was starting to grow on him. Her birthday was coming up in April. He had already asked Sam to make sure Susan didn’t make any plans and he had asked Emily to give her the weekend off. He wanted to take her away for the weekend—he had a couple of places in mind and reminded himself he needed to make a decision and a reservation soon—and then he would ask her to marry him. He had looked at rings, but was considering asking Sam to help him. He didn’t want to screw it up.

He wasn’t nervous, he realized, as he ran over plans in his head. Well, not too nervous, anyway. It felt right. Thinking about finishing up the job in a few months and then not seeing Susan nearly every day? That felt wrong. It would all work out. He’d ask her and she’d say yes. It was meant to be—they were meant to be—he told himself. And he mostly believed himself.

He finished up work in The Hideaway and decided he’d have time to tackle the floorboards in the corner bedroom downstairs. He had found some boards that were a close match at the salvage store and had kept them inside for a while to get the wood acclimated, so it was time to pull up the old ones and install the new ones. One more thing he could get installed and out of the way. He figured he’d have to remove a three by four foot section under the window. The boards had gotten wet at some point and the water had apparently gone unnoticed long enough to cause some pretty serious damage. The previous owners had pushed a bed over the damaged spot and apparently had done their best to ignore it.

Riley made some cuts then tugged at the warped and cracked boards, pulling out rusted nails and easing the boards away from the floor. When they were all up and he started to gather them, something in the floor caught his eye. Setting the boards down again, he reached his hand in the hole and stretched his fingers until they clasped something solid and smooth. Gently, he pulled until he was holding a tin box with a tobacco company logo on the lid.

He sat down on the floor with the box in his lap and was just about to open it when he heard Susan call his name.

“Up here,” he answered as he carefully turned the box over in his hands.

“Hey, you, how was your day?” Susan asked brightly as she pulled off her coat and gloves.

“Look at this.”

Susan sat down on the floor next to him. “What is it?”

“Some kind of box. I just found it under the old floor boards.” Riley handed her the box and much like he had done, she examined the cover then slowly tilted it to see the bottom. Whatever was inside rattled and jangled as the box shifted.

“Someone hid something, I bet.” Her eyes danced. “What do you think it is?”

“Well, there’s one easy way to find out.”

“Oh, we have to guess first!”

“Naturally. Well, I think it’s a million dollars.”

“A million dollars wouldn’t fit in here,” she scolded.

“Okay, then it’s a hundred dollars.”

“You’re no fun. I think it’s another journal that’s going to give me all the answers I didn’t get from the other one. Oh, and pictures. Lots of pictures.”

“Now who’s not any fun?”

Susan laughed then leaned over and kissed him. “Anyway, hello.”

“Hi. Now open it.”

Susan eased the lid off the box and they both leaned forward to peer inside. “Look, it must have been someone’s treasure box.”

Susan lifted out a bag of marbles and a box of crayons. Clanking around the box were some rocks, buttons, and a few silver dollars.

“Morgan Silver Dollars,” Susan said turning the coins over and looking for dates, “from 1899 and 1901.” She handed them to Riley so he could get a better look. “I think these can be valuable.”

“Are you a coin collector or something?” Riley took his turn studying the coins.

“No, not at all, I just know that these with Lady Liberty are called Morgan Dollars and since they’re old, are made mostly of silver.”

“Worth checking out. Too bad it’s not full of them. What’s on the bottom?”

There was still a piece of paper on the bottom of the box and Susan picked it up gingerly. It was folded in half and as she began unfolding it, cards fluttered into her lap. She heard Riley catch his breath before he shouted, “Don’t touch them!”

A little taken aback, she shot him a questioning look. Riley, however, wasn’t looking at her. He was far more interested in what was lying on her legs and around her on the floor.

“They’re baseball cards…really old baseball cards.” There was a level of awe in his voice she had heard only once before—when he had held his nephew for the first time. She wondered how Joe would feel about that, but then decided Joe would probably be pretty darn excited about the cards, too.

“They look like they’re in fairly decent condition. We shouldn’t touch them or we’ll get oil and dirt on them, and that can ruin them. I’ll go find something to pick them up with and something to put them in.”

Susan watched Riley dash from the room. When he returned, it was with surgeon-like precision that he used the long tweezers to pick up one card at a time by the corner.

“Ty Cobb? No way. And Frank Chance? Joe Tinker? Cy Young?” His voice was rising with each name. Susan just sat back and enjoyed the show. “Chief Bender? He was born right around here. Wow, some of these cards are incredible. I have to call Frank.”

Ever so carefully, he laid the cards on a blank page of the open notebook he had brought back with him. He crawled around on the floor, leaning his head closer before pulling back, then laying his head almost flat on the floor and looking over the tops of the cards. Without taking his eyes off of the cards, he yanked out his phone and called his brother.

While Riley excitedly relayed his news to Frank, Susan examined the rest of the tin’s contents as well as the tin itself. A small, cloth bag with a drawstring held a couple dozen glass marbles. They were beautiful with various colors in bright swirling designs. The box of Crayola Crayons looked to be well used; the writing on the box was faded in places and the eight crayons inside were all worn. Susan looked at the buttons and the rocks, wondering what sort of special significance they’d held for the person who had saved them.

The piece of paper that had been used to wrap the baseball cards caught her eye. She unfolded it and found a single line of meticulous printing on the inside reading ‘This Belongs to Heinrich Baumgartner.’

The original owners of the house, Susan remembered, were named Baumgartner. Interesting. She turned the paper over again, but there was nothing else written to give her any more clues about Heinrich Baumgartner.

When Riley finished his call to Frank, she showed him the paper.

“He must have been a child when he hid this. I wonder if he left and forgot about it or if something happened to him.”

“I might have to pay another visit to Bea, see if she can dig up anything on the Baumgartners. It’s a long time ago, but I suppose there could be some records. Now I have unanswered questions about Charlie and Heinrich. This place is full of secrets.”

Riley paused for a moment then a smug smile began playing at his mouth. “Sounds like it’s time to name another room.”

Her eyes flew to his and her surprise showed. “Aren’t you the quick one? Thought of that before I did.”

“What will you call it? Secret something?”

“I don’t know.” She looked around the room, studied the floorboards, examined the box and its contents again, then smiled. “How about Hidden Treasures?”

“That has a mysterious sound to it…I like it.”

“Thanks, so do I. Maybe I can have surprises around the room…a special bubble bath tucked in a fluffy towel, a bottle of wine hidden in a drawer, a couple of vintage games in a little toy chest, maybe even some kind of wishing well…I’ll have to think about it, but it could be some sort of different surprise all the time.”

“That would appeal to people with a sense of adventure or those wanting to channel their inner kid. Make it a game…‘You never know what you’ll find in Hidden Treasures.’”

“That’s good. I’m going to start adding more information on the website about the rooms so I need more teasers like that. Oh, and I’ll put the claw foot tub in this room. I hadn’t decided yet which room it would fit best with but definitely in here.” She nodded as she spoke. She leaned over the cards to study them again, keeping her hands behind her back so she wouldn’t be tempted to touch them. “And I think maybe I’ll have the cards framed and hang them in here with the story of where they came from…a way of explaining the reason for the name.”

Riley’s gasp came fast and loud. “Frame them? And hang them in here? Don’t you want to find out what they’re worth? Talk to a collector?”

Susan started to chuckle, but saw Riley was dead serious. “How much do you think they’re worth?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never had any cards this old but since they seem to be in pretty good condition, I’m sure it’s hundreds, maybe thousands for the lot.”

“Well, in that case…you’re the one who found them, they should be yours. Really,” she added when Riley started to shake his head.

“No, Red, they came with the house. I just hope you’ll at least look into the value before you decide to just stick them in a frame.”

“Okay, I promise. But let me ask you…what would a collector do with them?”

“I don’t know, I suppose for some it’s an investment and they would hold on to them waiting for them to increase in value. Some probably just enjoy looking at them.”

“Like maybe looking at them in a frame?”

“Touché, Red, touché.”