Waking Up To Love (Lakeside Porches Book 4) (5 page)

“I learned that from you. But he
is
on the rebound, which is a little dangerous.”

“Tell him, if he hurts you, I’ll bury him in a dune.”

“Rand, don’t talk like that.”

“I owe you for all the favors you do, like the plane today and putting up with me this weekend.”

“We do it because we love you, even if the parental unit does not.”

“Their loss. They’ve made it clear I am not part of this family until I return to the corporate fold, which is not going to happen.”

Rand had angered his parents by choosing his heart’s desire, a college teaching job, as his life’s work. Not the fashion industry’s wildly successful, public relations firm the elder Cunninghams had built from scratch.

The three Cunningham siblings had always had a strong bond. It was a sore spot with all of them that their parents referred to their only son, never by name, but always as the Black Sheep.

His twenty-eight-year-old sisters, Priscilla and Christina, were as different as twins could be. Like their father, Bertrand, Pris had dark-brown hair and eyes, and skin that tanned easily. The family called her the Dark Witch, an offhanded compliment to her ability to conjure up fresh and brilliant promotional strategies for their high-end clients.

Chrissie was the White Wizard. Flaxen-haired and blue-eyed, like Rand and their Swedish mother, Regina, Chrissie knew where every dollar came from and went to, and she managed the business with finesse and a firm hand.

“Are we free of them this weekend, I hope?” Rand asked Pris.

“Definitely. Daddy and Mother are still on their Alaska cruise, due into Vancouver on Thursday. So you’re safe. Just you, me, and Chrissie. Hop in.” She revved the engine and backed around before he’d clicked his seatbelt.

He stretched one arm along her seatback and exhaled a week’s worth of frustration. “Now this is what I’m talkin’ about.” Settling deep into the leather seat, he lifted his face, eyes closed, and let the hot summer wind sweep over him.

“Why didn’t you come a few days earlier?”

“Ah, because fate dictated that I wait until today.”

“What do you mean ‘fate dictated’? And what’s got you so stressed, Rand?”

“I’ve just been at loose ends, which you know I hate. But this morning I held a woman in my arms that I want to marry. I need you to coach me to the altar.”

“What?” She studied his face.

“Watch that hole.”

Pris swerved around a pothole, and the car fishtailed before she brought it under control.

“Why does it shock you that I’ve met the future Mrs. Rand Cunningham?”

“You’ve never been in love, Rand. This is huge. When’s the date?”

“You know I don’t do love. This isn’t a romance thing. I met her this morning. Her name’s Lyssa Doughty.”

“She needs a new last name.”

“Good point. I’m thinking next summer, a June wedding at the Manse. Her bother-in-law is the proprietor. And his uncle, the president of Tompkins College, is rumored to be worth a few billion. Lyssa has what I want out of life, and I think we’re a good match. I can loosen her up, and she can make sure we live in style.”

“Rand, you sound like Daddy. ‘Love’s a crock. Marry for connections.’ Did you really buy that fatherly crap?”

Rand examined her profile while he thought about it. The crinkle lines by her eyes gave her character, but the wrinkles in her forehead had to go.

Pris took her eyes off the weather-beaten access road to flash him a smile. “Did I piss you off with that question?”

“No, you didn’t. I’m just thinking that every one of my school friends has seen it that way. Sleep around all you want, but marry someone who’ll raise the children well and handle the social pressures of your career.”

“Do you seriously
not
believe in love? Romantic love?”

“That’s right.” He shrugged.

“What if this woman is looking for love?”

“I can fake it, Pris.”

Pris’s thumbs tapped the steering wheel while she thought it over. “I’m sure she’s beautiful, right?” At his whistle, she smiled. “How smart is she?”

“Almost as smart as me. I’ve been researching her since our fated meeting this morning. She has a Ph.D. in Economics, a real one, from a prestigious university. She made a financial series for British television last year. I’ll show you a YouTube, and you can see for yourself. And I heard on the way down here that she blew away the faculty on the search committee. No question she’ll be offered the job on her own merit.”

When they pulled into the turnaround at Water’s Edge, the Cunningham’s gray-shingled house on the shore, Rand hefted his suitcase out of the trunk. He stood a moment, breathing in the smell of saltwater and letting the moist breeze awaken his skin.
I need this.

Once he’d stashed his things in the guest bedroom, he found Pris in the kitchen and told her, “I’m heading to the beach.” He cut a wedge from a wheel of cheese and poured a beer into a tall blue water bottle. “Want to come?”

“Absolutely.” Pris chose a bottle of iced tea and picked the smallest banana from the bunch on the counter. “Why did you pour that into another container?”

“Rule. No alcohol on the beach. You never know who’s watching.”

Her lips curved with a smile. “You always were a stickler for appearances.”

“I insist on doing exactly what I want, and I don’t plan to get caught.”

“Even if it’s illegal?”

“Isn’t having drugs at your party illegal?”

“Okay, okay.”

They left their sandals at the top of the stairs. On the beach, barefoot, Rand scuffed the sand ahead of him. “Who’s coming tonight?”

Pris filled him on the invitation list for the weekend parties. “Tonight it’s my friends and Chrissie’s, some with boyfriends, some solo.”

Rand knew most of them. Beautiful, flirtatious, mostly drinkers
.
Fun
.

“Tomorrow night, work associates.”

Drugs and booze. He’d renew his connections and bow out early.

Next summer, I’ll bring Lyssa with me.

He took the bottle out of Pris’s hand and stood it next to his in the sand. “Is the water warm?”

“As warm as it ever— No, Rand!”

He scooped her up and carried her, squealing and kicking, into the rolling surf.

Hoping that pressed chinos and a bright pink T-shirt were correct for the handwritten ‘dress casually’ note on her formal invitation, Lyssa set off for dinner with the president. She followed the directions, south along the lake road and left at the stone pillars. At the end of the Cushmans’ undulating private drive, she spied an elegant stone-and-wood home set in a birch grove high above Chestnut Lake. “Holy . . .”

She’d barely closed her car door when Gianessa opened the massive teak front door and gave her a dazzling smile. “Good, you got the memo about the dress code.” Gianessa wore a long cotton skirt and a tank top that showed off her tanned, toned arms. She waved Lyssa inside and gave her a quick hug.

“I love your house,” Lyssa said. “And something smells wonderful.” She imagined slow-roasted meat and vegetables. “Mm, what are those herbs?”

“Lots of rosemary.”

“We always start visitors with our view.” Gianessa gestured to the living room with a wall of windows that overlooked Chestnut Lake.

The house sat a few miles south of the marina, at one of the highest elevations in the area. From this perspective, the lake looked as though God had pressed one long, powerful finger onto the land to create a slender body of water resting serenely between steep, grapevine-covered hills.

“Someday I’d like to see the other lakes from the air,” Lyssa said. From what she’d read, each of the five or more Finger Lakes rested in valleys like this one, and they fanned out next to one another like the fingers of a human—or divine—hand.
So, God, you’re holding me in your hand, right?

She could see ten or more miles down the lake to where it made a right turn and disappeared behind a steep hill. Under the evening’s thin cloud cover, the water was gray.
Just like Kyle’s eyes
. Lyssa caught her breath at the pain in her heart.

“I see some whitecaps,” she said aloud to explain her reaction. “I didn’t realize it was so windy today.” She forced a chuckle. “I guess I had a few other things on my mind than the weather.” She turned with a big smile for her hostess.

“Are you completely exhausted?” Gianessa searched her eyes.

“I’m good for a couple of hours before I crash. Hi, Justin.” She spotted her host, hanging back in the dining room.
What is that wary look for?
“Fine guest I am, mesmerized by the view.”

Justin’s deep laugh rumbled as he came forward. “We’ve learned to let our guests enjoy the scenery before making conversation.”

Lyssa welcomed his warm hug. “It’s been since November,” she said to Justin. “And you and I haven’t seen each other,” she said to Gianessa, “since Manda’s wedding.”

Gianessa responded with a musical laugh, a low note and another a fifth higher that sounded like the start of a happy song. “As you can see, Justin and I have been very busy since that occasion. Our own wedding. New house. And twins.”

“
Two
babies?”

“Boy and girl, almost a year old.” Gianessa glowed with pride and pleasure.

“Jack and Jill,” Justin added with a chuckle.

“I love their names. Can I meet them?”

Gianessa clapped her hands. “I was hoping you’d ask. Come with me. Justin is in charge of the drinks.”

“For you, Lyssa?” he asked.

“Some of that water in a blue bottle, if you have it.”

“How did I know you’d want Saratoga water?” Justin winked.

Lyssa remembered Justin grabbing two cobalt-blue liter bottles, one for each of them, at Manda and Joel’s wedding reception. They had wandered down to the shore for a long talk. It was then that Lyssa had told him she wanted to teach financial literacy. That conversation had led to her post-doctoral fellowship at his alma mater, the University of Chicago, London campus.

I owe him
.

Lyssa followed her hostess down carpeted stairs to the bedroom level. They entered a frilly yellow room where a delicate little girl lay sleeping, a halo of blond curls framing her face, eyelashes soft on her cheeks. “Our daughter, Jill, who wins hearts with her smile.”

“Like her mom.” Lyssa squatted by the bed and whispered hello to the sleeping baby.

“She’s discovered blocks and is building mighty towers, dashing my hopes for a fashion designer.”

“Maybe that will be next week’s passion,” Lyssa said with a soft chuckle.

“Come with me. Jack may still be awake.”

Lyssa followed, but she paused at the door to blow a kiss to Jill.

“You like children.”

“Love them. I had a babysitting business as a girl. I want half a dozen.”

“Jack,” Gianessa addressed her son as they entered a denim room with four trucks lined up by the windows, “this is Auntie Manda’s sister, Lyssa.”

Sleepy-eyed, Jack opened his arms to Lyssa. She picked him up and cuddled him. He patted her face. “Do you see that I have Auntie Manda’s cheekbones?”

There was just enough light from the hallway for her to see the violet in his irises. “You have your mama’s eyes, don’t you?”

“And Jill’s are becoming more gray-green,” Gianessa said, “like the Cushman’s.”

Jack shifted in Lyssa’s arms and leaned as far as he could toward his trucks.

“Sorry, big boy,” Lyssa told him. “It’s bed time. Your trucks have to sleep, too. They’ll be ready when you wake up tomorrow morning.” She settled him back in his bed and kissed his chubby cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

On their way up the stairs, Lyssa asked, “Is there one more level below the bedrooms?”

“Yes, we’re on a slope. We designed a third, lower level with more bedrooms but, sadly, we can’t have more children. Since we like to entertain, we’ve turned it into a luxurious guest suite with its own private patio.”

Justin met them with their drinks at the top of the stairs and motioned them to the table in the dining room.

“We thought you’d be ravenous,” he told Lyssa, “so we’ve made a pork roast with fresh vegetables. And we’re trying a new gluten-free dinner roll.”

“You cook together?”

“Often,” Gianessa answered with a loving smile for Justin.

Lyssa warmed to the happiness in their home.
I want this, too, even without the multi-million-dollar price tag
.

She devoured two servings of pork and vegetables and finished a liter bottle of sparkling water. “I’ve made a pig of myself.”

“Didn’t they feed you lunch?” Justin teased.

She got them laughing with her tale of burgers at Ralphs with the five students.

“Tea or decaf?” Gianessa asked.

“Tea, please.”

“We’ll take it into my office,” Justin said. “Cups and spoons are already there. If you’ll get the teapot, Lyssa, I’ll lead the way.”

In the kitchen, Lyssa gave her hostess a hug and thanked her for dinner.

“Good luck.” Gianessa whispered, “Remember, we love you.”

Why does that make me nervous?

In Justin’s office, Lyssa placed the flowered teapot on a low table between their two chairs. Her hands were steady when she poured a cup of amber tea for Justin and one for herself. She settled into her chair and stole a quick look at the lake.
God, help me out here.

“Long day?” Justin angled his chair another few degrees.

“Very long and exciting. Thanks for a relaxing and delicious dinner.”

“Our pleasure.” Justin glanced at the lake, narrowed his eyes for a moment, and then gave her his full attention.