LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Is that what’s bothering you?”

      Before he could answer, the waitress appeared with Veronica’s soda and asked if they were ready to order. Finding little on the menu she didn’t like, she settled on a hot turkey sandwich with provolone cheese and sourdough bread. Merlin ordered baked sole and wild rice, smiling at the pretty brunette who obviously found him attractive. Accustomed to his flirting, Veronica merely waited until the waitress left before continuing their conversation as though nothing had happened.

      “What is it you want to tell me about Galen and Aren?”

      Merlin shifted, forced to refocus on business. “I’m surprised they didn’t already tell you since you’re the manager. They think the way to solve the problems up there is to hire a private investigator and have him pose as a guest.”

      “An investigator?” Veronica tried to act surprised.

      “You won’t believe what those idiots did.” Merlin smiled, but there was something off-kilter about his grin. “They hired Caith, Ron. My screwed up, black-sheep brother is coming home.”

      * * * *

      Veronica sat on the bank of Stone Willow Lake, the lodge looming over her shoulder on a treed hillside. The setting sun gleamed on the surface, kindling an iridescent dance of magenta and gold. Across the expanse of the water, the opposite shore was visible, dressed in the russet and cinnamon shades of fall. According to legend, the lake burned with fire when fate was sealed. She’d seen that quirky event only once in her lifetime, on the evening before Caith Breckwood left for college.

      Damn Aren for bringing him back! She’d made a reasonable suggestion to get BI out of trouble, never expecting he’d hunt down his PI brother. The last person she wanted to see was Caith. She’d been in love with him since high school, too afraid to tell him, fearful any hint of real affection might shatter their fragile friendship. He’d grown introverted after Trask’s death, holding people at a distance. She’d stood by and watched him make a fool of himself over Kelly Rice only to have the prom queen dump him for the captain of the football team.

      Idiot, she thought, and wasn’t certain if she was referring to Caith, Kelly, or herself.

      The first year following Trask’s murder had been the worst. The trauma had left Caith emotionally unstable, frightened to venture anywhere alone, terrified those close to him might be plucked away and murdered. There had been counseling and doctors, lengthy stays in hospitals away from home. At first, the doctors had said it was best not to trigger memories, but eventually Caith returned to the town where he’d grown up, to the place where he’d been held captive and Trask was murdered.

      Bidder Farm.

      The house had stood abandoned for years until eventually the land was sold and a Quik-Mart sprouted in its place. She knew he’d never been comfortable going there, even after every trace of the dilapidated house and root cellar had been demolished. There were times, however, when he’d seemed almost recovered.

      Like his last summer before college. She vividly remembered the two of them riding with Merlin in his red convertible, the top down, music blaring, the air rich with a mixture of honeysuckle, freshly cut grass, and chlorine from the community pool. But even among the laughter, there’d been sadness and distance in Caith’s eyes.

      “I don’t understand why you can’t be like your brothers and do what your father wants,” she’d insisted.

      Veronica closed her eyes, recalling Caith’s agitation and pain. They’d spoken on this same bank, sitting, shoulder-to-shoulder, a seventeen-year-old girl trying to hide her feelings, and a long-haired eighteen-year-old boy trying to explain his.

      “And become another BI cog?” Caith’s eyes had flashed distaste. “My father wants me to become a business executive, Ron. To find ways to increase company revenue and expand the family business. I want to make the world a safe place to live. To contribute something beyond the next corporate advance. If that means being cut off from my family and the Breckwood fortune, I’ll accept the consequences.”

      And he had. Instead of attending an Ivy League college as his father expected, he’d excelled at a less prominent eastern university. A straight-A student, his naturally inquisitive mind and innate problem solving ability had aided him well in his decision to pursue criminal justice. But it had also placed him at a permanent crossroads with his father, Stuart Breckwood.

      That evening, sitting side-by-side on the bank of the small lake, it had hurt to think of life without him. She’d suffered through watching him date Colleen Parker and Toni Charleston, then make a fool of himself over Kelly Rice.

      Behind them, the sun had sank into the horizon, the brooding shadow of Barrister House looming over their shoulders. Sun and moon merged on the water with the vermillion kiss of flame.

      “Look at the lake,” Caith whispered in awe.

      Dazzling bands of ruby-red and flaming gold unraveled beneath the surface as though the sun melted into the water. Liquid silver defined the edges where moonlight webbed the shoreline in a sparkling tapestry of color and magic.

      “It’s beautiful,” Veronica breathed, entranced. “Like it’s on fire.”

      “Like the legend. Sealed fate.” Caith lifted a hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ronnie…” His voice caught. “I…I’ll miss you.” Then as if sensing something he’d long overlooked, he’d leaned forward and kissed her, a shy, experimental touch of his lips. When she responded, he drew her into his arms, giving rein to something they would later regret.

      Beneath the encroaching veil of twilight, they shared the electric passion of exploratory touches and moist, open-mouthed kisses. Kisses that sent her emotions careening out of control, her body responding in ways she hadn’t imagined possible. Her skin burned with the need to be touched, her mind consumed with the desire to be loved only by him. Every fantasy she’d entertained about being in his arms had fallen dreadfully short of the reality.

      Far too experienced for a boy of eighteen, he’d stroked, nuzzled, and caressed until her flesh burned with the same raging fire as the lake, and her body arched beneath his, silently begging release from the shocking torment. His lips brought ecstasy and his hands coaxed her over the edge.

      All she’d cared about was him. The insatiable need for flesh-to-flesh contact and the raw, painful love in her heart.

      The red-gold glow of the lake washed over them, and Veronica had willingly surrendered her heart with her virginity, certain there would never be another man.

      The next day Caith had kissed her and left for college, promising to call. Three weeks later he sent a letter telling her the evening had been a mistake and he’d met someone else. Veronica never replied.

      In the years that followed, she’d heard rumors from his family. How he’d supported himself through college on scholarship money and tips earned working nights as a waiter in a steak house. How he’d changed his name, eventually becoming a homicide detective with Boston’s police force, then later a private investigator. He’d had a child with a woman he never married, taking up residence in an upscale neighborhood where homeowners worried more about the state of their lawn than who might be selling drugs to their children.

      Veronica drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. She propped her chin on her knees. It wasn’t fair. Not of Aren, not of BI and, especially, not of Caith.

      She could combat almost anything. The strange occurrences at the lodge, jittery guests glancing over their shoulders at every stray noise, even her staff spreading rumors about ghostly visitations and things that went bump in the night. But the one thing she couldn’t fight, the one thing from which she’d never fully recovered, was her childhood love for Caithelden Breckwood and the damage he’d done when he’d broken her heart.

      * * * *

      Caith pulled the blankets beneath Derrick’s chin, tucking them close. He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress giving slightly

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