CHAPTER 14

Before Melanie could figure out what had gone wrong at the picnic, Tristen was flying around her, his fist connecting with another man’s face.

“Not on my watch!” Tristen shouted as bones crunched.

Tigger, who had been talking to the knuckle-sandwich eater, raced to her mother’s side, eyes wide with fright. Melanie, still not comprehending what was happening, pulled Tristen away from the man.

Mistral.

Oh, of all the rotten luck. Daphne’s ex-boyfriend had blood pouring everywhere. He’d press charges for certain.

Melanie tried to hand Tigger’s father a wad of napkins from the picnic basket, but Tristen blocked her, grabbing them and tossing them at the man, who tried to snag the fluttering objects, one hand to his gushing nose.

They’d been having a picnic with Daphne and Tigger by the docks in Port Carling as they planned their next move against Rubicore.

“What’s going on?” Melanie asked in a calm, even voice.

“He was taking Tigger,” Tristen said, his left hand clenched around his right fist.

“Whoa.” Dot, who had gone to grab ice cream, came to a sudden halt as she took in the scene, the cones in their cardboard holder tipping precariously.

“He was taking Tigger,” Tristen repeated, jaw clenched.

“I was introducing myself!” the man shouted, his own hands clamped over his nose, which made his voice sound nasal. “I’m her father!”

“What?” Tristen’s eyes were fire and ice. “Why were you trying to lure her away? Answer that!”

“We were going to play Frisbee.”

Daphne was strangely quiet, but her hands trembled as she held her daughter close.

“You don’t lure a girl away from her mother.” Tristen’s face was red, the vein in his forehead bulging. Judging from how fast it was pulsing, he was in danger of a heart attack.

Melanie placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to settle him before he could attack the man again.

“A father has rights.” Mistral’s nose was still flowing, the napkins so red it made her head spin.

“From what I’ve heard, you don’t,” Tristen snapped. “You’re lucky I didn’t knee you in the sack and push your deadbeat ass into the lake.”

“I, um, I said he could come,” Daphne said meekly, idly swiping Tigger’s tears away with a thumb. “I’m sorry.” She moved around Tristen, who staggered in surprise, while Melanie gaped at her sister.

“You what?” Melanie asked.

“He was supposed to be here before everyone else, so I could introduce him.”

“But he’s…he’s the enemy,” Melanie sputtered. What was her sister thinking, inviting Mistral Johnson, who was not only one of the owning partners of Rubicore, but was trying to steal her daughter away? She’d definitely lost her marbles.

“He’s not the enemy,” Daphne said hotly. “You’re taking things too far, saying that, Melanie.”

“Too far?” Okay, she was booking her sister into the psychiatric ward to have her brain checked. “He was trying to kidnap your daughter.”

“I was not,” the man retorted.

“Just leave it alone, Melanie,” Daphne said. “You don’t know everything.”

Melanie stepped back, shaking her head. That was it, wasn’t it? She didn’t have a clue who her sister was any longer.

* * *

Back at the house, Melanie waited as Dot took Tigger to the backyard to play, probably sensing things were about to get crazy.

“Why would you let him come around you?” Melanie asked Daphne, setting the picnic basket on the front steps.

“He’s receptive to working together and he wants Tigger to be part of his life.”

“Think about the timing on that,” Tristen snapped. His jaw was so tight Melanie thought his teeth were going to crack. “He is using you, Daphne. Never speak to him until this is over, you understand? Don’t let him be around Tigger alone. And if you do have to talk to him, make sure I’m present. And a lawyer. You got that?”

Daphne glared at Tristen with an expression so vehement Melanie had to look away. How did a fine picnic turn so ugly so quickly?

“I don’t appreciate the way the two of you are ganging up on me,” Daphne said. “I’m an adult and this is my life.”

“Tristen is right, Daphne. Mistral is playing both sides. He’s taking advantage of your loving, forgiving and trusting nature.”

“He wants to be a part of Tigger’s life. It’s not my right to deny that.”

“His timing is rather convenient, as well as suspicious,” Tristen said gently. “I think a bodyguard would be a good idea.”

Daphne unlocked the front door, calling Tigger to come around the house, effectively dismissing them.

“I agree with Tristen,” Melanie said softly. “That was scary.”

“You two can take off now,” Daphne said. “I don’t need this toxicity around me at the moment.”

“I live here,” Melanie said.

“I need some space to think, or I’m going to say something I’ll regret.”

Melanie watched as her sister hurried her daughter into the house, the sound of the dead bolt snapping into place behind them.

Kicked out? By Daphne? What alternative reality had Melanie landed in?

“You can stay with us,” Tristen said, giving Melanie’s shoulder a squeeze. “She just needs time. She’s confused.”

The three of them began walking the way they’d come, backtracking to get Tristen’s truck.

“Do you think she’d mind if I had her tailed?” he asked eventually, taking Melanie’s hand. “That Evander fellow Connor’s mentioned could keep an eye on her.”

“If she found out she’d be livid.”

“I can handle her.”

“I kind of want my family to like you, Tristen.”

He cupped her chin, his expression serious. “And I kind of want your family to stay safe.”

Warm and cozy. That’s how Melanie felt when she looked into his eyes. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Ew. I’m walking ahead if you guys are going to be all yucky.” Dot positioned herself up front so she didn’t have to see them smooch.

Melanie smiled and kissed Tristen lightly, careful not to lose herself in the process, which was so easy to do with him. Breaking away, she threaded her arm through his and began the process of catching up with his daughter.

The tension that had gripped Tristen only moments ago wafted away.

“How’s your hand?” Melanie asked, holding it up to take a look.

“Sore. But worth it. That man…” Tristen’s face clouded over and his neck reddened, the tension returning.

“I know.” Melanie swallowed hard. “There’s something happening that I don’t understand, and it freaks me out.” She sighed. So much to say, so few words to encompass it all.

Tristen wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “The worst part is he’s playing to her heart. She wants this. She wants a happy family.”

“I just hope she doesn’t do something she regrets. She’s stopped listening, and I don’t trust Mistral one tiny little bit.”

It was as if Daphne wanted Mistral back, when all he’d ever done was cause her pain. How many times had Melanie’s sister claimed that she didn’t need a man to help her raise Tigger, and that it was a blessing Mistral wasn’t involved? Had they just been words to cover up her true desire?

Chills raced up Melanie’s spine and she snuggled closer to Tristen. When it came right down to it, she didn’t feel as though she knew her sister very well.

“Can you give me a ride to my boat?” Melanie asked, as Tristen moved a few steps ahead to unlock the truck for Dot. “I want to go to Nymph Island.”

“Alone?” Tristen was back at her side in an instant.

“Unless you two wanted to come keep me company?”

“You’re not going anywhere without us. Dot! We’re going to Melanie’s island.”

While Melanie’s world might be turning upside down, at least she had Tristen by her side.

* * *

“This is getting scary.” Melanie stood beside Tristen on Nymph Island’s dock, staring at the charred hole in the trees where another cottage of Muskoka’s Heritage Row was missing. “What do you want to bet they burned it down themselves?”

Tristen didn’t say a word, just clenched his jaw and kept an arm around her, squeezing a tad too tight.

Rubicore wasn’t playing fair. Two of four heritage cottages gone. Just like that.

“Looks like it’s time to fight fire with fire.” Dot laughed, plunking herself on the edge of the dock, feet in the water. “Can you believe the gall? Of course we’re going to investigate that.” She looked over her shoulder at her father. “Right, Dad?”

“Definitely. I’ll call in some favors and get investigators in here before any evidence is gone.”

Tristen began dialing someone and Melanie sat in a Muskoka chair, fingers against her lips, thinking. She inhaled the scents of warm wood, lake, pines, and a hint of wrongdoing that smelled a lot like the evil side of progress and the slaughter of what was real and meaningful.

She pulled out her cell phone, checked for a signal, then called her big sister Hailey. “Hails? You back in town? You’re going to need to come photograph something for me.” She dialed another number. “Mrs. Star? Can you get on the phone—call everyone you know? Another cottage on Heritage Row was just destroyed. Fire this time. Owned by Rubicore, too.”

Tristen, who was done with his call, gave her a warning look. Slander, yeah, yeah, yeah. She wasn’t saying anything, just providing information that could be put together however Mrs. Star felt inclined.

Melanie made another call. “Austin? Yeah, Melanie here. I need you to stir up shit about Mistral Johnson, Aaron Bloomwood, his partner Mario, and any other Rubicore bigwigs you can find.”

“Jim Hanna!” Dot interjected.

“Jim Hanna. Yes. Anything. Photos would be good.”

Another call. “Connor? Does that Evander guy do any bugging? Think he could bug Mr. Valos’s office? Perfect. Thanks.”

Melanie punched in another call. “Rick? I don’t care who Rubicore is to the paper, I need you to find a way to get something into the press in Toronto—use a pseudonym if you need to—and reveal how the company owns Adaker as their own personal charity, but have been lying to their board members about the camp’s solvency. If you get in trouble, I’ll be your lawyer. By the way town council tomorrow—I think things might get interesting. You might want to be there.”

She glanced at Tristen, who was still watching, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “One more call,” she told him. She dialed the last number. “Christophe? I have a mystery for you. Can you find out what charity my great-grandmother Ada and Stewart Baker started together and why? I have a feeling it is local.” She hung up the phone, staring across the water at Baby Horseshoe Island.

“What was that last call about?” Tristen asked.

Melanie turned to him, her mind still elsewhere. “Adaker. Sound like any names we know, fitted together?”

A slow grin lit like fire and he pulled her close. “You are brilliant, Melanie. Absolutely brilliant.”

She could see it all clearly now. The path she was supposed to—no, was destined to—take. She was finally where she was supposed to be. She’d never felt that connection to the world and her place in it before, but now she finally could.

And it felt good. Powerful.

Everything was unfolding as it should, even if Rubicore was still winning. It wouldn’t be long, though, until she had them where she wanted them.

She just hoped she had enough time to make it happen before it all came crumbling down around her and her sisters. It was like the parachute game they used to play at Adaker, and she’d just lifted the round chute into the air, dived under and tucked it all around her. It would stay inflated before collapsing and protecting her inside. But would there be enough time before it sank, trapping her?

Tristen weaved his fingers through hers as Dot wandered up to the cottage to see if there were any good snacks there. His chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath, and Melanie placed her free hand against it.

“I love you, Melanie.” He looked so solemn and so much like a small boy afraid of being rejected that she gently took his chin in her grasp, wanting to see every emotion running through his eyes.

“Thank you for telling me. I know it isn’t your style to express yourself in words.”

“I’m sorry I’m not very good at this. And while I know you like me, too, I hope you feel the same. The same depth. Maybe not today, but someday.”

Melanie laughed, tipping her forehead to touch his. “Tristen Bell, you silly man.”

“What?”

“I love you, too, and have for some time.” Tears filled her eyes suddenly and trailed down her cheeks. With his thumbs he brushed them dry.

“I am very glad to hear that.” His shoulders relaxed and he let out a long, slow breath.

“I feel less alone when you are around,” Melanie sniffed. “It sounds corny, because of course I am less alone, but I mean in my heart.”

It was as though Tristen saw that broken part inside that she’d been trying to heal for years. That dark corner she wanted to finally squash so she could fill it with light. But Tristen was already there, doing it for her.

“I feel connected when you are around,” she said. “Like there is someone with me and that it will all be okay. It’s not like that when I’m with others. I still felt lost and like the odd one out. With you, I feel…love. Trust. Beautiful, even. Everything good.”

She leaned against him, loving the way he enveloped her in his arms, pressing his lips firmly to her temple. He was protecting her from the world, telling her in his own way that it would all be okay.