“My father hired you, not—”
“You?” I interrupted. I could play that game too. “I know your father is the one who hired me. And I’m going to go out on a limb and say my gut tells me he’s retiring next year, right?”
“End of this year, your point?”
I knew it. “And you’ll be taking over after him, right?”
“January first.”
“January first, huh? New Year’s Day? Will that transfer be taking place before or after the Lake Plunge?”
“After, we— How do you know about the Lake Plunge?”
I steeled my gaze. “The Lake Plunge, one of the oldest holiday traditions here at Bryant Mountain House, I believe? After midnight on New Year’s Eve, staff and guests alike—the brave ones at least—march down to the south end of the lake and polar bear plunge through a patch of ice that’s been cleared specifically for this. Sounds crazy to me, but I think you all have been doing it since the twenties, yes?”
He studied me carefully, searching with those indigo eyes. “Since 1919, actually.”
“Great, then we’re coming up on a hundred years, we’ll have to make a big deal out of that. Break a record for the most fools freezing their noonies off at the same time.”
“Their noonies?”
I shrugged. “I assume most of the fools are men. Tell me I’m wrong.”
He laughed then, an honest to goodness laugh. And it changed his face entirely. For the first time, there was no suspicion, no irritation, no trying to figure out what I was going to say so he could beat me to it. I realized with a start he wasn’t that much older than I was. Laughter, plain old laughter, took years off his face. “Are you ready for that tour?”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, yes I am. Where should we start?”
“Lakeside Lounge, that’s where the tours always start,” he replied, turning smartly and starting for the staircase. “You coming?”
“You’re still gonna pawn me off on someone else?” I asked, falling into step beside him.
“Nope, I’m taking over for Mr. Phelps. Sure you don’t want to change into more comfortable shoes?”
I ignored the blatant challenge, although this one was delivered with less spite. Progress. I’d take it.
“Noonies,” I heard him mutter under his breath.
Yep. Progress.
Chapter 5
Every morning, since the dawn of time apparently, a house tour was conducted by a member of the staff. Could be someone who worked the front desk, could be someone who worked in catering, could be Jonathan Bryant himself. Didn’t matter, the point was that each staff member told essentially the same story, with a few personal anecdotes to personalize the history of this grand old hotel.
It always left from the Lakeside Lounge promptly at 9:30 a.m., and it always covered, weather permitting, the main house, the gardens, and the dock. When Archie and I had arrived at the Lakeside Lounge, he was stunned to realize I hadn’t seen that side of the resort yet.
“What do you mean you haven’t seen the lake yet?” he asked, incredulous.
“Weather was terrible last night, and after finding out that my bellman was the owner, and not at all happy about me checking in early, it seemed like a good idea to stay in my room and not get in your way.” He had the decency to look the tiniest bit chagrined, perhaps feeling as though he’d jumped the gun yesterday. “Plus I didn’t want to go wandering around the halls late at night, all those creepy people staring back at me from the walls.”
At that Archie rolled his eyes, any fleeting glimpse of apology gone the moment I mentioned the creepy pictures. It occurred to me that I didn’t need to mention those creepy pictures, not yet at least, but I couldn’t resist. Was I poking the bear a bit? Perhaps.
“Nevertheless, you should take a moment and see the lake. It’s like going to the Grand Canyon and just trying to see it from the parking lot.”
“You’re comparing a lake in the Catskills to the Grand Canyon?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“We’ve got five minutes before the tour starts, Ms. Morgan, see for yourself,” he replied, gesturing for me to head into the lounge as he turned to speak to someone from the front desk.
I did really want to see the lake, so I headed inside. But not because he told me to.
The Lakeside Lounge was aptly named. Relaxing and comfortable, it boasted several long trestle tables stacked with games like Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit, and for the kiddos, Chutes and Ladders. Thick, double-wide planks of pine covered the floor, smooth but pleasantly scarred with years of use. Armchairs and love seats, clad in more cabbage roses and toile, were clustered into conversation areas, the walls were covered by gorgeous inlaid-wood paneling, and there was another one of those gargantuan fireplaces.
This one was flanked by emerald-green glass tiles, blackened here and there from years of smoke and ash. The mantelpiece was a single length of carved wood, and the andirons alone could support a sequoia. As I explored, someone from the resort hurried in with a basket of kindling, and set about lighting a small bonfire inside the cavernous hearth. Opposite the fireplace was a long and cozy-looking leather couch and several rocking chairs, and it wasn’t hard to imagine curling up here on a chilly afternoon with a good book and a hot chocolate. I looked around, expecting to see just that, but the place was almost entirely deserted, except for two older gentlemen playing cards in the corner and three little old blue hairs and their knitting needles, the silver flashing as they worked and chatted.
Hmm. We’d need to work on bringing in a younger clientele for sure. But right now it was all about the hint of blue to my right that begged for my attention. Wide windows spanned the width of the room, opening up to a long porch where at least fifty rocking chairs beckoned. And just beyond? The lake.
I’d seen pictures and read up beforehand, but nothing could have prepared me for the sheer beauty of this water.
Carved into the mountainside millions of years ago, almost like mirrored glass reflecting the puffy clouds above, the lake was wide and long and filled with the bluest water, deep blue, almost indigo.
Almost as blue as Archie’s eyes.
The thought bubbled up quickly, unbidden. I just as quickly batted it away.
Stay focused, Clara, there’s a job to do. And a lake to admire.
Ringed around it were enormous craggy boulders, spilling down into the water like a giant had been tossing pebbles. They were visible under the clear water, stretching down into the depths. A forest of pine circled the lake on all sides, protecting it from much of the wind that whipped down this very mountain, resulting in the smoothest glassy surface on the water.