Page 90 of It Happened on the Lake

“W ow. This is like sooo cool.” Dawn stood in the foyer of the house and gazed at the split staircase, eyeing the way the steps ran up either side of the vestibule.

Harper was surprised to see her daughter. “I thought you were coming later.”

“I know.” Dawn lifted a shoulder. “Change of plans. Again. Grandpa wasn’t home.

I buzzed to be let into the penthouse, but no one responded.

But it all worked out, I guess, because I’m kinda in a hurry.

Gina wants to get back to Eugene earlier—something about when the movie is playing earlier, so I can’t stay long. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Harper felt a jab of disappointment that the visit would be short but also more than a little relief.

Right now she wasn’t certain the island was safe and she wasn’t ready to explain about the dolls with their weird messages or the dead cat or the knowledge that an intruder had broken in.

“I was thinking we could go to dinner,” she said, locking the door.

“Next time, I guess. I should have just come up here myself, but Gina needed a ride and I have a car.”

“My car.”

“You’ve got the Volvo,” Dawn said. “And it suits you better!”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment.”

“It means you’re older. That’s all.” Dawn dropped her oversized purse on the marble floor before climbing up one side of the curved staircase. At the landing she paused to stare at the chandelier with its glittering bulbs and teardrop crystals. “Oooh, this is like thirties retro, right?”

“Probably.” Harper craned her neck to look up at her daughter.

“Maybe older. I think the house was built in the teens. I can’t remember, but Gram’s notes about the house are somewhere.

I just haven’t found them yet.” Truth was, she hadn’t looked.

“Hey,” she called up the stairs. “Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”

“Nah. I’m good. Stopped at Mickey D’s on the way up.

” Dawn leaned over the carved railing. “I feel like Juliet in the balcony scene up here,” she said, and Harper was reminded that her daughter was now into Shakespeare, had been taking a class on The Bard.

“Tell me again,” Dawn said, “why I haven’t been here before. ”

“We lived in California. Remember?”

“I know, but why didn’t you and Dad move here?”

“Uh, maybe it was because we had jobs there and you were going to school.”

“And you hadn’t really inherited it yet, right?

” Dawn started down the opposite side of the staircase, her Doc Martens ringing on the wooden steps, her fingers trailing along the railing.

“And now you’re moving in? Wow.” She skipped over the last step and, grinning, picked up her bag again. “Awesome!”

“If I stay here.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Dawn turned her doe-like eyes on her mother in wonder. “I mean this is almost like a castle.”

“Or a haunted house.”

“Even better. And I love those beasts hulking on the posts by the gate. They’re beyond gnarly.”

“The gargoyles?”

“Yeah!”

“Then you’re probably a fan club of one.”

“Really, no one likes them?” Dawn said. “Weird.”

Harper wondered if that was a compliment, like bad is good and sick is cool and maybe weird meant out of sight or whatever.

But calling something weird seemed odd coming from a girl who loved anything that was out of step with the norm.

These days Dawn dressed in layered, uneven black skirts that sparkled and wore gloves without fingers, heavy boots, and umpteen necklaces and crosses, all at once.

There had been a time when she was in grade school when Dawn had worn T-shirts and hoodies, sweat pants and shorts.

Like her mother before her, Dawn had been a tomboy.

Naturally athletic, she had climbed any tree she saw, scrambling up to the highest branches.

She’d ridden her skateboard all over Santa Rosa and had taken horseback riding lessons while earning a black belt in karate, one of the few girls in her class.

Then she’d turned fifteen.

Dawn had discovered boys, alternative music, punk culture, and the whole Goth scene as a sophomore in high school. She’d become sullen and withdrawn, found new friends, and tried to ignore her parents. Somehow, though, thank God, she’d managed to keep her grades up.

By the time she’d entered college, Dawn had dropped some of the moody oppressed-teen act.

But even if now she was more borderline alternative, she still embraced the Gothic fashion sense as evidenced in today’s all black outfit of torn tights, short lacy dress, and big hair.

Today her lips were pale. She wasn’t wearing the black lipstick that had been part of her makeup her senior year and aside from a line of silver studs crawling up one ear, she hadn’t had any more body parts pierced. At least none that were visible.

“Are you okay?” Dawn asked, walking closer and poking an ebony-lacquered nail at her mother’s chin.

“This is where you had stitches, right?” She eyed the red line where the skin had been pulled together and the little dots on either side where the stitches had been pulled through. “Wow. Kinda looks like a caterpillar.”

“It’s fine. Seriously. I’m getting there.”

“Will you have a scar?”

“God, I hope not.”

Dawn actually seemed concerned. “What does the doctor say?”

“That I’m fine,” she snapped, then hearing the harsh tone of her voice added, “Or that I will be. Maybe just a little worse for wear. It’ll take a little time.”

“Uh-huh.” Dawn didn’t seem convinced, but she let it slide.

Harper didn’t want to further this particular discussion. “Come on,” she suggested, “I’ll show you around.”

“Okay.” Dawn dropped her purse again. “Let’s go outside first! I want to see all around the island.”

“All right. We’ll start out back.”

Harper walked Dawn through the overgrown trails where she’d played tag or war as a kid.

They hiked beneath the fir trees with their sweeping, needled branches while fir cones littered the muddy paths.

“I like it,” Dawn said almost wistfully as she spied a great blue heron skimming the lake’s surface, wingspan wide, his reflection visible in the water.

They took the steps to the dock and cavernous boathouse, where Dawn surveyed the rotting timbers with their bat droppings and the old, rotting boat creaked in its ancient straps.

“Totally creepy,” Dawn whispered above the echoing sound of the lapping water.

“I love it!” Her enthusiasm didn’t wane as they entered the tunnel and climbed the stairs to the terrace and the tram’s garage.

Intrigued, Dawn wanted to test out the car. “Come on, Mom,” she begged. “Show me how it works.”

“Later,” Harper said, “I’m not sure it would even start.”

“Well, we could try. Isn’t that what you always said, ‘you’ll never know until you try’?”

“But not today. If we were lucky enough to get it started, it’s still not safe.”

Even under its shelter, the car had collected dirt, grime, and fir needles.

Who knew what condition the track was in?

All of which didn’t contribute as much to her aversion as the memory of Evan sprawled in the car.

Even now, in her mind’s eye, she witnessed him lying in the car, eyes wide, hair fanned around his head, blood dripping in red rivulets from the seat to the floor of the car.

Forcing the graphic image from her mind, she stepped back from the car’s interior. “I thought you wanted to see the rest of the house.”

“I do. For sure.” Dawn pointed upward to the tower rising above the roofline. “Let’s start up there. We can work our way down.”

“Okay.”

But as they reached the terrace, Dawn glanced around and asked, “Where’s Jinx?”

Harper’s heart nose-dived. She thought about admitting the truth but settled on, “He’s around.”

Dawn frowned and produced a rubber band from a pocket. “He could get lost here,” she said, pulling her wild mane into a loose bun. “I mean, anyone could. Not just a cat.”

“He’s been gone for a couple of days,” Harper admitted, stretching the truth a little. “But you know how he is.”

“Yeah.” But Dawn’s brown eyes swept the area, taking in the beach, the dock, the trees and dense shrubbery on the island. “I bet he loves it here.”

If only.

“This way,” Harper said, to change the subject. As they went inside, Dawn eyed her surroundings and whispered, “I can’t believe you actually lived here when you were growing up.”

“Part-time. When I stayed with Gram.”

“Which was a lot?”

“Yeah.”

‘Well, I think it’s totally rad. I would have loved to have grown up here. Hey, what’s this?” She pointed to the nearby wall covering the elevator shaft.

“The elevator,” Harper said, thinking it was obvious. “It’s not working.”

“No, I see that, but what’s the smaller doorway, er, cupboard? This.” She knocked on the narrow wooden panel next to the elevator’s entrance.

“Oh, that’s the dumbwaiter. It’s not working either.”

“What’s it for?”

“Originally hauling things from one floor to the next. It’s not electric, was run on pulleys and cables, I think. It’s never worked for as long as I can remember.”

“Why would you need it if you had an elevator?”

“I don’t know. I think it was installed first and, like I said, not electric, so servants could move linens or food or firewood or whatever from one floor to the next. It used to run from the basement all the way to the third floor.”

“But no more?”

“No. I think it was dismantled when the elevator was installed. Or wasn’t working or something. I don’t really know.”

Dawn tried the door. It didn’t budge. “So someone nailed the door shut?”

“Right. I guess. Eons ago. It was a safety issue.”

“I think you should get it going again. Along with the elevator.” She inspected the closed door to the elevator shaft as well. “I mean how awesome would that be if it worked?”

“It was,” Harper admitted. She remembered Gram being able to go upstairs after her stroke because of the lift. “I’m pretty sure we can get it working again. Don’t know about the dumbwaiter.”