Page 270 of It Happened on the Lake

It had taken months for news of the sensational events to die down. Rhonda Simms’s series on the lake had expanded with the latest developments and had gained national attention. She was now reportedly writing a book about her experiences, again using Ned Gunderson, now retired from the Almsville Police Department, as her source.

At least Rhonda was actually writing a book. In that regard, she was ahead of Harper, who had put off her writing project until she’d healed from her wounds and renovations on the house were complete. She’d hired a local builder and architect to construct a new gatehouse and renovate the manor house after Dawn returned to school in the fall.

This summer they were living here together and Harper had relented, allowing Dawn to take over the tower room while she moved her office to Gram’s old bedroom on the first floor. She had to admit, it did have a spectacular view of the lake.

And Rand’s A-frame.

And sometimes, as dusk was settling as she sat at her desk, she imagined she smelled that unique blend of cigarette smoke and Chanel No. 5 and heard Gram sigh.See, Harper girl, life isn’t so bad. It’s just exactly what you make it.

As she leaned over the terrace railing, she watched an osprey soaring high over the lake before she let her gaze fall to Rand again.

He must’ve felt her watching him because she saw him look over at the house. He was wiping his hands on his towel and grinned, then waved.

She waved back, her heart beating a little faster as he climbed into his boat and headed across the water.

Rand had admitted to being with Chase on the night of his death. He’d admitted that Chase had talked about disappearing, a secret Rand had kept. He’d also confided to Harper that Chase had asked him to look after her.

And now he is, she thought,twenty-odd years later.

If she let him.

She heard a loud meow and turned to find Jinx at the French doors, inside the house. She walked in, and the cat greeted her by doing figure eights between her legs. “Hey, buddy.” She picked him up, glad that his wandering days were over. Craig had admitted to having found the cat on the property in the days after Cynthia Hunt’s tragedy on the lake. Already plotting to push Harper into renovating, then selling, the house, he’d taken the opportunity to steal the cat and had kept Jinx in a cage under the deck of his house, near the woodpile. Craig had sworn he never intended to hurt him, just “borrow” him. Beth supposedly never knew that Jinx was locked outside, she just wasn’t home often enough to hear him cry.

Really?

It seemed wrong, but Beth assured her the catnapping had been all Craig.

Sick bastard, she thought, petting Jinx’s sleek head.

She heard the motor of Rand’s boat fast approaching.

“You stay here,” she told the cat. “And don’t get into any trouble.” Then she slipped out the back door to the terrace again. Sunlight was shimmering on the surface of the lake, and she watched as Rand tied up at the dock.

Maybe this really was her home, this place Olivia Dixon loved.

“You were right,” she said as if her grandmother could hear her over the sigh of the wind through the stately firs surrounding the house. “Life is what you make it.”

And from here on, she was going to make it right.

She thought she heard her grandmother’s voice in the rustle of the breeze whispering through the fir trees.

You do that, Harper girl, you do just that. And I’ll be watching.