The Blue Bonnet Bed and Breakfast might not have been the most popular lodging spot in the Keweenaw Peninsula, but Naomi and her mother were beginning to get some repeat visitors. Naomi closed the register with a sense of satisfaction then stretched out the kinks in her back. The scent of lemon polish and the faint aroma of pine cleaner in the air were worth the soreness in her muscles. Six thousand square feet of house, and every inch of it polished and shining. The new crop of weekend visitors would arrive later in the morning.
The registration desk stood at the end of the entry hall. They’d opened the wall between the office and the foyer, and now an antique marble counter separated the two. Naomi sneaked a book from under the counter. Maybe she could get in a few pages before her mother came down. She flexed the spine, and, as if on cue, her mother floated down the curved walnut staircase. She disappeared momentarily into the parlor before hurrying toward the office in the room behind the entry.
Though fifty-eight, Martha Heinonen’s skin glowed a pink, healthy hue of fresh air and hard work. Strands of silver were just beginning to highlight her hair, and her consistent exuberance made her even more attractive. Dressed in a pink-flowered dress with a soft skirt that swirled around her still-shapely calves, she looked every inch the lady. Someone had once told her she looked like England’s reigning monarch, Queen Elizabeth, and since then she’d played up any resemblance to the hilt, a fact Naomi found amusing.
Naomi guiltily tucked away the book before her mother could see it and level her usual litanies about ruining her eyes and how men weren’t interested in a bookworm. Maybe her mother had a point. The men weren’t exactly beating a path to the door.
“There you are, darling. I peeked in the parlor on the way down. It looks lovely. I see you managed to get that stain out of the piano scarf. You are such a treasure!” She disappeared again, this time in the direction of the kitchen, and emerged a few moments later carrying a heavy tea-and-cookie-laden tray as though it weighed nothing.
“Come along before the tea gets cold,” Martha said.
Naomi followed her to the parlor. Martha set the tray on the coffee table and sank into the plush armchair upholstered in pink cabbage-rose chintz. “It’s nearly time for our guests to arrive. Are you going to greet them dressed like that?” She wrinkled her nose at Naomi’s faded jeans and oversized T-shirt.
Naomi often wondered how she had been born to such a woman. She preferred denim while her mother craved silk. Her mother teetered daily on two-inch polished pumps, while the footwear on Naomi’s shoe rack looked like castoffs from the Salvation Army: scuffed boots, flats with eroded heels, and ragged tennis shoes. Still, Naomi and her mother got along well. Naomi did the heavy cleaning; her mother prepared the elegant teas and made small talk with the New York businessmen and the bored Connecticut housewives. Her mother’s pies were famous throughout the peninsula.
Naomi had been gearing up to deal with the subtle guilt her mom would try to impose. “I’ll change my top to something nicer.” It was as great a compromise as she was willing to make today. Some days she wished she could let the real Naomi come out in full view, but it just took too much energy to confront her mother. Compromise had led her to a placid state of living with her mother at nearly thirty-two. She found small victories like this one hollow, knowing the battle had been lost long ago.
The doorbell pealed. “I’ll get it.” Naomi made her escape and stepped into the long entry hall. She opened the door and found Bree standing on the front porch.
Naomi grabbed Bree’s arm and drew her inside. “You’re just in time to save me from strangling my mother.”
Bree chuckled and followed Naomi into the parlor. “You may not be so thrilled when you hear what I’ve come to tell you.”
“Mom just put out some tea and cookies. Come tell us all about it.”
Bree followed Naomi into the parlor.
“Bree, dear, I was just thinking about you.” Martha smoothed her flowered skirt and leaned over to pour the tea. “You look like you could use something to drink.”
Bree plopped onto the sofa and curled one denim-clad leg under the other. “You two are my sanity. Oops.” She fished around under her and pulled out a book. “This has to be yours.” She handed it to Naomi.
“I was wondering where I put that one,” Naomi said with a surreptitious glance at her mother. She’d managed to hide the book she’d been reading in the office from her mother, but not this one.
“I don’t know why you tote a book everywhere you go; you’re always losing them. I could stock a library with the books you’ve lost.” Bree took the cup of tea with a smile of thanks. “I have a summons from the mayor,” she said with a dramatic flourish of her hand.
Naomi wrinkled her nose. “The poodle has issued a decree?”
“Girls, that isn’t respectful,” Martha murmured.
Naomi felt a shaft of shame. But Hilary got under her skin in the worst way. She bossed Bree around, and Bree let her. Naomi didn’t understand the hold Hilary seemed to have on her friend. She pushed away her unspoken censure of Bree, who had been through so much. It was no wonder she craved peace at any cost.
“What for?” Naomi asked.
“Hilary’s reelection campaign kickoff dinner is tonight. Mason’s too, of course, but since he coasts on Hilary’s coattails, his campaign is immaterial as far as she’s concerned. I thought maybe I could evade an order to appear, but my luck ran out. So did yours.” She looked over her teacup at Naomi and raised an eyebrow for effect. “She wants us to come so she can show off yesterday’s successful search like her latest trophy.” Bree took another cookie and bit into it.
Naomi groaned. “Not a dinner party! Anything but that!”
Martha smiled, her eyes lighting with pleasure. “That means a fancy dress, Naomi dear.”
Bree grinned. “I’m afraid your mom is right, Naomi. It’s pull-out-all-the-stops, knock-’em-dead time.”
Naomi fell back against the couch in an exaggerated posture of despair. “And here I thought you were my friend.”
“Hey, that’s what friends are for,” Bree said with a trace of smugness. “For that and chocolate-chip cookies.” She took another bite of cookie and grinned.
Bree studied the large topographic map that decorated the wall in the lighthouse’s spare room. She needed to get an updated copy. This one had some inaccuracies. She was almost done with sector fifteen, which was smack in the middle of the southern half of the Kitchigami Wilderness. Should she move east or west? Or keep pushing north? The Rock River Gorge wilderness lay east of sector fifteen. She hadn’t even begun to search there. The monumental size of her task felt almost suffocating.
Saturday was not normally her preference for a search day. Hunters and fishermen were out in force on weekends, and they tended to try to engage her in conversation when their paths crossed hers. But October’s Indian summer wouldn’t last long, and she needed to take advantage of every hour.
Though she knew she should spend the day preparing for Hilary’s party, she decided to finish sector fifteen, on the west side of the gorge. She pulled her backpack and rescue vest out of the spare room’s closet, found her cell phone, and headed for the woods.
Six hours later, the only thing she’d accomplished was closing the door on sector fifteen. No sign of a crash anywhere.
Weariness gripped her as she drove home. A party was the last thing she felt like attending. Driving up Negaunee Street, the light tower of her lighthouse seemed illuminated from within by the last shafts of clear sunlight, and she was reminded again of the repair that needed to be done. Yet one more thing to attend to. Suppressing a sigh, she parked the Jeep, let Samson into the backyard through the gate, then went inside to get ready.
She took a quick shower and washed her hair then cinched her robe around her waist. The thick terry cloth felt warm and comforting after schlepping through the cold forest mist all day. She sat at the dressing table with her makeup bag in hand. Dark circles marred the pale skin under her eyes. It would take some major paint to pass Hilary’s critical inspection. Bree made a face at herself in the mirror. If Hilary didn’t like the way she looked, she’d be glad to go home. She finished dressing and drove to Naomi’s.
Bree pulled up outside the Blue Bonnet and honked the horn. Naomi came out the front door almost immediately. Dressed in a classic black dress with pearls and heels, she looked every inch a lady. A gold lamé shawl reflected light into her elegant upswept hairstyle.
“Looks like your mom got hold of you,” Bree said with a grin. “You look great though.”
Naomi rolled her eyes. “I wanted to wear my red dress, but Mom said it made me look cheap. Cheap.”
“You couldn’t look cheap no matter what you wore,” Bree said comfortingly. “Hop in and let’s go wow them all.”
Naomi managed a faint smile. “You always know how to make me feel better,” she told Bree.
Naomi fastened her seat belt then leaned forward to fiddle with the radio. “How do you listen to this stuff?” she complained. “No one listens to Elvis anymore.” She punched the search button until Houghton’s country station came on. Singing at the top of her lungs, Naomi belted out the lyrics to a Reba song.
Bree grinned. “You’ve missed your calling.”
Naomi smiled back. “You have any idea who all will be there?” Her bejeweled fingers played idly with the fringes of her gold shawl.
“Everyone who can help Hilary. Business owners, other politicians, ordinary people with a tad of influence. The guest list will read like a Who’s Who of the Upper Peninsula.”
“Do you suppose Donovan will be there? That’s pretty cool he asked you out. He’d make a good husband,” Naomi said.
The diffidence in Naomi’s voice struck a wrong chord with Bree, who glanced at her friend sharply and said, “I’m not interested in Donovan, but it sounds like you are. I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for. He’ll find it hard to trust another woman after his wife ran off like that. And two small children can be a handful, especially when they aren’t your own.”
“It’s getting to where a girl can’t ask a question without risking her ring finger,” Naomi complained. “I didn’t say I was interested. I was just wondering if he would leave the children for something like this. That must be the worst thing about being a single parent.”
A chuckle bubbled out of Bree’s throat. “Cut the outraged spinster act, Naomi. This is me, remember? I know the difference between casual interest and something more, and this is something more.”
Naomi compressed her lips and looked away. “Mom will have me married by the end of the month if she finds out. I’m sure there’s no hope anyway. If you’re his type, I’m obviously not. Besides, you’ve got an advantage: Emily likes you. Did you notice she tagged after you right up to the time the ambulance took her away?”
Bree would allow no man to come between her and Naomi. Men were as plentiful as salmon, but a best friend was a freshwater pearl. “She’s just a kid enamored with Samson. Give her time. I have no intention of dating him. When did this interest of yours start?”
“When I was fifteen.” She chuckled, but it was only halfhearted. “I was just a pesky little twerp back when he was my brother’s best friend.”
“Bat those big brown eyes at him, and he’ll be a goner.”
“I’m not very good at flirting.” Naomi sighed and twisted her bracelet around and around on her wrist.
“What is it about Donovan that’s kept you hooked all this time?” Bree turned into the parking lot of the community center.
“He’s real,” Naomi said. “And he loves God as much as I do. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like God is telling me he and the children belong with me, that I need to take care of them. They need me.”
Bree hunched her shoulders at the God talk. Fortunately, they’d arrived. Any conversations about God and his expectations would have to wait.
Built by Rock Harbor’s early residents during the heyday of the Copper Queen mining era, no expense had been spared in the construction of the beautiful community center. It stood in stark contrast to the rough wooden buildings in other parts of town.
Inside, the patina of age and old money gave an elegance to the central hall that newer, more expensive buildings couldn’t match. Crystal chandeliers glittered with prismatic color and light while men and women arrayed in every imaginable style of dress milled around the floor. Some wore suits and brightly colored dresses, while others came dressed in jeans and flannel shirts. Hilary wouldn’t turn away anyone who could cast a vote. Glassware tinkled while laughter and conversation formed a constant background hum.
Bree felt as out of place as a starling in the ocean. “We should let Hilary know we’re here.” What she really wanted to do was find a corner to hide in until she could slip back to the lighthouse. Though she called Rock Harbor home, many in town still regarded her as a newcomer, even after nearly five years as a resident.
“You go ahead,” Naomi said, looking past Bree. “I want to talk to Donovan.”
So he was here. Bree watched Naomi move to Donovan’s side and smile up at him. If that man hurt sweet Naomi, she’d make him regret it. How Bree intended to protect her friend, she wasn’t sure, but she’d lay down her life for Naomi. First, though, she needed to let her presence be known to her sister-in-law.
Hilary and Mason were talking with Jacob Zinn, an older man who ran a fishing resort on the edge of town. Mason gave Bree a smile.
“Bree, how nice you look,” Hilary said. She leaned forward and touched her lips to Bree’s cheek. “You know Jacob Zinn, don’t you?”
Bree nodded and shook hands with Jacob.
“Mrs. Nicholls.” He pressed her fingers briefly. “I had thought you would have headed back to Oregon by now. There’s not much in Rock Harbor to interest an outsider, eh?” His dark eyes flickered over her then just as quickly dismissed her. He spoke with the familiar Yooper cadence, punctuating his sentence with an “eh” and ending with an upward lilt that made the statement almost a question.
How long would she have to live here before people like Jacob accepted her? Twenty years, fifty? If she took out an ad in the newspaper and proclaimed her intention never to leave, he still wouldn’t believe it. “This is my home, Mr. Zinn. My family is here.”
He snorted and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “They will never be found, Mrs. Nicholls. The North Woods guards her secrets well. I suggest you pick up your life and get on with it.” Without waiting for a reply, he nodded to Hilary and strode away.
“That man is so rude,” Hilary said. She linked arms with Bree. “We’re your family, not just Rob and Davy. Come with me. The Asterses just arrived, and I want to say hello.”
Though Jacob Zinn’s invective had made Bree reel, Hilary’s words made her heart sing. Words of approval from her were as rare as a Michigan monkey flower. If she could freeze this moment, the next time Hilary bit her head off she could remember this and savor it. She walked arm in arm with Hilary to greet Fay and Steve Asters, with Mason trailing at a distance.
Hilary dropped Bree’s arm and held out a hand to Fay. “I’m so glad you could make it,” she said, her gaze on Steve.
Bree knew Fay and Steve Asters fairly well. As manager of the Rock Harbor Savings and Loan, Steve had been forced to handle the mortgage paperwork on the lighthouse when the loan officer quit. Rob had trusted Steve, and Bree found him quite charming. She and Fay met for coffee once in a while, though Bree found the other woman’s intense need for attention somewhat off-putting. An hour at a time was the most she could usually stomach being with her.
Hilary launched into easy conversation with Steve. Bree sometimes wondered if there was more history between Hilary and Steve than a simple high-school romance that ended when Steve fell for Fay.
“How goes the search?” Fay asked with a flip of her palm while Steve chatted with Mason and Hilary. Fay’s fingers fluttered in the air to punctuate every word. Her dark blue eyes glittered with avid interest in everything around her.
“Nowhere,” Bree said. Just once, she wished people would talk to her about something else. But the search was always the first topic. Did they ever stop to think she might be interested in the weather or politics?
“Maybe I could join you one day,” Fay said, twisting the gold hoops in her ears. “I saw something the other day that needed checking out. There was a woman outside a cabin. In the ravine beside it, I thought I saw an old airplane seat.”
Bree had learned to take everything Fay said as the bid for attention it usually was. Six months ago, Fay had told everyone in Anu Nicholls’s shop that she’d seen a jacket like Davy’s along the river near Ontonagon. Bree had rushed there only to find a man’s red parka rather than a child’s blue jacket. “An airplane seat?” she asked, measuring her interest. “Are you sure?”
“Not totally sure, but it looked odd sitting there. I just can’t remember what sector I was in. I’ll try to remember.”
“Can you think of any identifying landmarks?” That would be one way to see how much truth was in Fay.
“Oh, let’s talk about this later,” Fay said, waving away her earlier comments. “It’s probably nothing.”
Almost certainly it was nothing. Still, what did she have to lose by looking? There were no other clues clamoring for attention. She just needed to know where to look. “Why don’t we meet at the Suomi for coffee in the morning?”
“Fine.” Fay stretched with ferretlike grace then tugged on her husband’s arm. “As long as I don’t have to eat anything.”
Fay normally ate like Samson. Bree lifted an eyebrow. “Dieting?”
“Hardly.” Fay gave a little laugh. “I’m going to look like a tub by the time the next seven months are up. Steve and I are going to have a baby!”
Bree didn’t miss the triumphant smile Fay tossed at Hilary. Hilary’s face froze for several long moments, then she managed a brittle smile that didn’t include her eyes.
“Congratulations. When is the . . . the baby due?” Hilary asked.
Bree heard the pain underneath the lighthearted voice, though she didn’t understand it. Did Hilary still really care for Steve? Poor Mason. Her gaze lingered on the sheriff’s face, but he seemed unperturbed.
“Not until May. I’m just barely knocked up.” Fay’s tinkling laugh came again.
“How . . . how wonderful,” Hilary managed. “You must excuse me.”
Bree watched her rush away then excused herself and followed her to the rest room.
The ladies’ room was a luxurious space with marble floors and counters, gold-plated fixtures, and mauve wallpaper in a subtle acanthus pattern. Hilary stood at a counter in front of the mirror, her eyes too bright in her white face.
“I couldn’t stay another minute,” Hilary said. Her chest heaved in small pants. Her fingers darted into the picture-perfect coiffure of curls piled atop her head.
“What’s wrong, Hilary?” Bree went to her and touched her shoulder.
“Why, nothing, of course. What could be wrong? My reelection is a shoo-in, Mason’s job is going well, and he’ll certainly be reelected too.” She stopped, and chagrin spread over her face. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. But really, I need to count my blessings.”
“What’s wrong? Is it Fay’s announcement? Did something happen today? You can tell me.” Bree’s unease grew. Whatever ailed her sister-in-law, it was something major.
Hilary’s lips twisted, and she began to tremble. She leaned forward and gripped the edge of the marble counter with both hands.
“I’m never going to have a baby, Bree.” She sobbed. “You can’t imagine the money we’ve poured into the fertility clinic in Marquette the past weeks as they’ve run all those tests. But today another disappointment. I was sure I was pregnant,” she whispered. “I was nearly two weeks late, my stomach was bloated, nausea—all the symptoms. I’d hoped to announce it tonight. I finally got up the courage to buy a pregnancy test. It was negative. Then the doctor called with all my test results, and . . . and . . .” Hilary leaned against the wall for support. “He says Mason has a low sperm count. We may never have a baby. Now Fay flaunts her pregnancy in front of me like a war trophy. I could have had Steve, you know. He was mine before she moved to town. I hate her; I hate her! That baby should have been mine.”
“You don’t hate her. Come sit down.” Bree embraced Hilary and led her to a wingback chair positioned against the wall. “Sit here. I’ll get you some water.” The marble counter held crystal glasses with cardboard covers in a neat pile on a mirrored tray. Bree’s hand shook as she held a glass under the faucet and filled it with water.
Hilary took the glass Bree offered and gulped it down. “I haven’t told Mason yet. I can’t bear to disappoint him again; he’ll blame himself. We intended to have at least four, you know. And here we are ten years later with just the two of us rattling around in that great mausoleum that was built for a family.”
“What about adoption?” Bree said tentatively. She’d thought of adopting a child herself. None could ever replace Davy, but maybe another child, one who needed a home as desperately as she needed a reason for living, would fill the empty void in her heart.
Hilary shook her head. “I want a child of my own, a baby I carry in my body.”
“I see.” Words of advice rose in her throat and died there like a cake gone flat in the oven. Rob’s family was all she had left, the only safe haven left to her. Hilary’s rage could rise like Vesuvius, and Bree didn’t want to be caught in the lava flow. Not now.
As Bree predicted, anger quickly replaced the sorrow on Hilary’s face. She rose and grabbed a tissue from the counter. “I should have known you wouldn’t understand! Everyone would know it wasn’t my baby. I don’t want their pity! Oh, why am I even talking to you about it? You never say anything that matters. I don’t know what’s wrong with you lately.”
Bree couldn’t explain it to her sister-in-law any more than she could explain it to herself. Hilary brushed past Bree and began to repair the damage to her makeup. Dabbing at her face, she tested a smile, then her face crumpled again. She dabbed at the tears until she finally succeeded in putting on a serene face.
“It will be all I can do to even speak to that cat Fay. I hate her!” She swept out the door without looking back.
Bree followed at a distance. Hilary melted into the festive crowd with a laugh that seemed to fool her friends but pierced Bree with dregs of sorrow as bitter as old tea. Hilary was right. Since Rob and Davy had died, she’d lost hold of who she was, and she didn’t know how to find herself again.
“Bree, kulta, I have looked everywhere for you.”
The soft sound of her mother-in-law’s voice was enough to ease Bree’s tension. Anu Nicholls always knew what to do. Bree turned to greet her with a smile. “How lovely you look!” Bree told her.
Dressed in a creamy gown overlaid with exquisite Finnish lace, Anu Nicholls wore her fair hair high on her head in a coronet of braids. Though nearly sixty, Anu boasted shining hair that held no trace of gray, and her face was as unlined as Bree’s. From the moment Bree had married Rob and became a Nicholls, Anu had claimed her as one of her own, though the same couldn’t be said for the rest of the family.
As Anu embraced Bree, her mother-in-law’s subtle perfume slipped over Bree like a caress.
“So kumoon you look. Slim and so beautiful.” Anu linked a graceful arm through Bree’s and strolled toward the pastry table. “Come with me. You know how wonderful Hilary’s thimbleberry tarts are. Even when I know my hips will pay, never can I resist.”
“Like you have to worry about your figure!” Bree eyed Anu’s lithe, long limbs with envy. She hated being short. If she could pick someone to look like, it would be Anu Nicholls. In fact, Bree wished she were like Anu in all ways. They had a lot in common even now, especially in love. They both had loved and lost. Anu’s husband had run out on her after five years of marriage, leaving her to raise Rob and Hilary alone. He’d never so much as written to let her know he was still alive. The abandoned woman had never remarried, though not for lack of admirers.
Rob’s father never knew the way the town looked up to Rob. The night he was appointed fire chief, Bree and Rob had lain in bed and talked far into the night. Rob confessed he’d always worked hard in his profession so that maybe someday he could make his dad proud enough of him to come back. Bree had held him as he cried that night, and it made her hate Rob’s father for more than just abandoning Anu.
Anu had bounced back though. She’d opened Nicholls’s Finnish Imports nearly twenty years ago, and it had grown into one of the finest Finnish shops in the country. Bree loved to touch the shop’s beautiful items, treasures like Arabia china and colorful Marimekko linens. Working there was a joy, not a chore.
“Something has caused that long face, eh?”
Bree came back to earth and managed a smile. “Did you find anything new in Finland for the shop?” Bree said, knowing shop news should distract her.
Anu brightened. “Some lovely wool sweaters. And a new line of saunas I will carry.” She wagged her finger under Bree’s nose. “Do not change the subject. You were about to tell me what hides that lovely smile. And do not tell me ‘nothing.’ I know you too well.”
Hilary would be livid if she revealed something she didn’t want her mother to know. “I was with Hilary,” she began, trying to think of a way to deflect the question.
Anu held up a slim hand. “That is enough of an explanation. I suppose she was badgering you again. I’m sorry, my Bree. I have tried to talk with her, but she refuses to listen to reason.”
Bree took the invitation to drop the topic and switched to another. “I’m still having no luck finding any trace of the plane crash,” she admitted.
Anu was silent for a long moment, her gaze pensive, then her eyes grew luminous with tears. “I spent much time thinking at the Puulan Lake cottage,” Anu said. “The time has come to let it go, Bree.” Anu’s blue-eyed gaze gently traveled over Bree’s face. “When Abe left me, I clung to the hope he would return. At holidays, the children’s birthdays, I was sure he would call or write, or show up at the door. I spent my life imagining how I would act, what I would say. Then one day I woke up and knew he wasn’t coming back. He was as dead to me as if he were buried in Rock Harbor Cemetery.” She rubbed her forehead.
“It is time we all faced facts. Rob and Davy are gone. It is time for you to move on with your life. We must cease asking the impossible of you. They are gone. Let them rest in peace.”
Bree’s throat clenched, and she felt the beginning flutters of a panic attack, an experience she hadn’t had in nearly six months. She couldn’t let go of Rob and Davy, not quite yet.
“Soon,” she whispered. “But not yet, Anu. Not yet.”
Anu laid a hand on Bree’s cheek. “I know it is hard, kulta. But you will grow stronger when you let go.”
Bree shook her head. “I’m giving myself until the first of the year. It seems appropriate, don’t you think?” Anu shrugged in acquiescence, and Bree wondered if she would give it up even then. The search was the only connection she had with her son and her husband, faithless though he was. Without that search to give her life meaning, what else was there?