by
Mary Jo Burke
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CHAPTER ONE
Summer vacations were for people secure in their employment, able to relax, and who had money falling from the sky, into their pockets. I, Gretchen Strom, the receptionist at Chase & Associates law firm for the past three months, didn't fit into any of the above categories. For me, outdoor activity consisted of walking to my car from the office. The fiery sun heated the atmosphere and despised my red curly hair by making it frizz on one side and flatten on the other.
Humidity, make up your mind.
The angry yellow ball in the sky also scorched my fair skin, leaving freckles to prove its disdain. Insects of every wing loved to buzz in my ears, sting me, or suck my blood, leaving nasty red welts. I surrendered to the elements and stayed in air-conditioned bliss all summer.
A few weeks ago, under duress, I'd bought a twenty-dollar raffle ticket from my boss' wife's charity. My use of duress in a sentence showed I was picking up lawyer lingo. Hopefully, it would be useful in my next career.
Every year, Jane Baxter Chase sponsored a fashion show for her granddaughter's snooty prep school. Caitlin Chase, age fifteen, lived with her grandparents. Her father, Aubrey Everett Baxter Chase, was a poster child of trust funds run amuck.
* * *
Friday morning, I opened my e-mail to find a message from Mrs. Chase.
Congratulations, hon, you're the big winner of the raffle!!! You get our lake house in Wisconsin for four whole days!!! A Monday till Thursday works best for us!!! I have an opening next week and will have Bea follow up with the deets!!! So happy for you!!! Jane Baxter Chase Please note: This is for you alone, no guests please!!! Have to set a good example for the office!!! No pets or smoking allowed either!!!
I currently flew solo, but it would have been nice to have more than two days to plan and been allowed to invite a few girlfriends from Minnesota to tag along. What would I do for four days by myself?
I reread the e-mail and tried to come up with a tactful way to decline it. I didn't want to sound ungrateful, but someone with a family would enjoy it more. In the afternoon, before I could rescind, I was buzzed by Mr. Chase's secretary, Battle-ax, excuse me, Beatrice McGuire. She preferred to summon her victims as opposed to an e-mail. Absolute power translated better in person. The woman I replaced warned me that I could offend anyone here, but never cross old Bea. She knew where the bodies were buried, friend and foe.
I set the phone console to voicemail and trudged back to the inner sanctum of doom, I mean, Bea's private office. I knocked on the door and waited for my verdict.
"Come in," a voice burnished by years of smoking unfiltered cigarettes beckoned.
On my first day, I was introduced to Bea and met with her disapproval. She informed me my shirt sleeve was frayed at the cuff and I wore too much makeup, and then she warned me not to hit on the attorneys, male or female. I'd avoided her ever since. I opened the door and steeled myself for the criticism to come.
"You wanted to see me, Miss McGuire." I plastered the smile on my face.
She peered over her bifocals, folded her tongue over her upper teeth, and scowled.
Good afternoon to you too, Beelzebub.
"Here's the address of the Chases' cottage and a few phone numbers, in case of emergency only." She pointed to a piece of paper on her desk. I leaned in and picked it up. "The family room, kitchen, and downstairs bath will be the only rooms available to you. Make sure you scrub them spotless before you leave. The local realtor will send someone over with the key before ten on Monday morning. Make sure you're there to meet her. You will be held liable for any breakage, theft, or damage during your stay."
She stopped talking and resumed her work of making others miserable. Just in case she barked at me again, I stared at the wall for a minute. There was a framed insignia hung there, maybe Greek frat letters or an inkblot of a spider devouring a hot fudge sundae. My mind wandered back forty years and imagined Everett Chase as a young pledge candidate, with questionable virility, eating raw animal guts to prove his stamina to his future frat brothers. The inner door opened and the current version of Mr. Chase stepped out. Tall, distinguished, impeccably dressed with an old money smell about him.
"Yes, Ev?" a softer sweeter tone emanated from the icy Bea as she addressed her boss.
My jaw dropped at the slip of her mask with a hint of humanity shining through the bared teeth. She followed his stare to me and rose from her chair like a thunderhead ready to smite me.
"Did you need something, Miss Strom?" he asked me.
Bea and I froze in our opposing spots, me as the sacred bunny and her as the hungry fox.
"No sir, I was collecting the information about your lake cottage. I won your wife's raffle." I smiled at my rescuer.
"I've been going to Pierre Lake since I was a child," he said with a hint of bittersweet memories.
"Sounds lovely, thank you very much," I said as I nodded to him and left.
I hurried down the hall, just in case Bea flung a ninja star at my head.
Two female paralegals lingered by my desk. They were always together like misshaped bookends. Their names blended too, Betsy and Wetsy or Bitsy and Twitsy.
"You won the Chases' cottage?" the tall one with the thin ruby red lips asked.
"Yes, I did."
"Hope you like ghosts," the short one with the plump pink lips said as they cackled and strolled away.
Dimmer and Slimmer loved to make jokes no one else understood. It made them feel superior and look ridiculous at the same time. Quite a feat and made their parents proud.
I spent the weekend cleaning my apartment and packing for my trip to a place beyond my pay grade. The building manager was set to collect my mail. I researched Ishawa, Wisconsin. It was known for a man-made lake and sky-high real estate prices. The homes were named instead of numbered. Quaint for those familiar with the town, annoying for people forced to visit. Hollow Cove, the Chase estate, sat overlooking the shore of Pierre Lake.