Page 13 of Sandbar Summer (Summer Cottage #3)

Chapter Nine

Goldie

She heard a whistle as she stood in the driveway of the hotel, the sun was setting, and the whistle was clearly a man, not a bird.

“Pardon me?”

“You clean up nice.” There he was again, her new best friend. Also, somewhat cleaned up.

“You have no idea.”

“The customary response to a compliment is thank you.”

“Ah, well, thank you again. Seems like I’m racking up the thank yous with you, Joe Cassidy.”

“Yes, well, I like to keep useful.”

“You’re sort of clean now, too. What’s the occasion? The opera?”

“You’re kind of a snob, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Goldie said. And she realized she was giving a hard-edged L.A. attitude in a soft corner of Michigan. She tried to let her guard down a bit.

“So, waiting for someone?”

“I’m unable to get the Uber app to open or get a car and driver out here.”

“No Uber in Irish Hills and our limo services are abysmal.”

“Of course.” Goldie looked around. Now what? She had promised Libby she’d be there for dinner and not to worry about getting her there. Irish Hills was more backward than she’d realized. Getting a car was easy in just about every city on the planet.

“Can I take you somewhere? You know, on my way to the opera?”

“Stop, ugh, actually yes.”

“Okay, get in the truck. Your eye looks like it’s doing okay.”

“Yes, I sent a picture to my plastic surgeon, and he agreed with you.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I’m serious.”

“Well, I guess it is good to get a second opinion. But with a face as pretty as yours, it’s going to take a lot more than a little scrape to ugly you up.”

“Thank you?” She had no idea what to make of Joe Cassidy’s compliments. Or was he hitting on her?

“Where to?”

“Nora House, do you know where that is?”

“Sure do. Let’s hit it.”

Nora House wasn’t far. She probably could have walked or rode a bike. If she stayed here, she’d have to arrange transportation.

“I appreciate it. I haven’t driven in years.”

“Really? You don’t have a license?”

“No.” She was going to elaborate but then realized how strange it must sound to someone from here that she had a driver, a cook, and a plastic surgeon, at her beck and call.

“I used to drive. I used to like it.” She remembered tooling around these very roads in her stick shift powder blue Volkswagen bug.

She’d sold it to buy her ticket to L.A. and pay her first month’s rent.

“Here we are,” Joe said as they pulled out onto the road in his pickup.

“I think you have a bad impression of me.”

“Nah, just a weird one.”

“I’m really not this incompetent. In my real life, I get things done and have things done. I’m just going through, uh, well, something weird.”

“No crime in that. Life can be a bear.”

“Yeah, right now, yeah.” She decided to change the subject. “So, just the one grandson?”

“Yeah, my son’s boy. They both live in Tecumseh. Red has full custody, thank God, so I help out when I can.”

Hmm. Goldie wondered what the story was there, of Red Cassidy and his son.

“I’m from Tecumseh.”

“That is a shocking revelation if I ever heard one.”

“No, it’s true. Haven’t been back in thirty, uh, a lot of years, but I’m from Tecumseh.”

“Well, what do you know? I must have skimmed over that in your Wikipedia entry.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I do recognize ya, Goldie Hayes. I didn’t at first, by the lake, with the seaweed in your brassiere, not very Hollywood. But when you were fighting off the washing machine, I finally got it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I suspect you have people recognizing you all the time. I thought I’d change it up for you.”

Goldie was now worried this man would sell pictures of her, tip off the press, or tweet out her location.

“Look, I am in hiding right now. I’ve got a million fanboys out for blood. I was supposed to be in the next Victory Superhero movie, and it went badly.”

“So how much is it worth, keeping that quiet?” Joe leaned back into the driver’s seat and rested one hand on the wheel. He was casual as he considered how to milk Goldie’s bank account. How lovely.

“I could do five thousand for the full week, and then an NDA, that would cover it.”

They pulled into the private drive of Nora House. Joe stopped the car and looked at Goldie.

“I have no idea how things work out in L.A., but you’re from here, it may have been a long time since you’ve been here, but we’re not the kind of people who would sell pictures of a woman trying to take a few days off, to the highest bidder.”

“That’s because you just don’t know the highest bid.”

“I don’t want money from you to be quiet. Your secret is safe with me.”

Goldie sensed she’d insulted him, somehow. She was so used to the cutthroat world she’d been in for thirty years. She didn’t know how to operate outside it.

“I don’t even know you. How can I trust you?”

As soon as the question escaped her lips, a scream reached the truck from the direction of the back door of Nora House.

Goldie and Joe looked over to the source.

And there was J.J. Pawlak, running at top speed and screaming, “Malibu Barbie! She looks exactly the same!”

Goldie opened the truck door. She didn’t think about it but out came, “Growing Up, Ginger, you haven’t changed a bit!”

This was how they used to tease each other.

The two women were thick as thieves. They grew up together. They’d fought off her mother’s crappy boyfriend. Goldie taught J.J.’s little brother how to kiss.

And it had been thirty years.

Goldie and J.J. embraced. J.J. lifted her off her feet! And soon, Libby joined the melee.

Goldie reached a hand out to Libby. She hadn’t hugged Libby. She’d held back. She’d kept up that wall she had to have in public. J.J. had smashed it down in the space of two seconds.

Another woman followed Libby. She had a shock of white hair against thick waves of chestnut. She was striking. She looked like she took zero crap from anyone.

And then it clicked in Goldie’s mind.

“Oh my gosh, Hope!”

Hope smiled, and her eyes sparkled like they did in Goldie’s memory.

There were hugs all around now. Goldie had not earned this affection. She had not kept in touch with these women. They were really strangers. But here they all were. Together again, in the same place, with the same bond.

It was overwhelming, and Goldie thought she might cry.

For a moment, they all four stood there, without words, and held hands. What had their journeys been like?

Goldie was at a disadvantage. Her path was laid bare for the world to consume. They knew what had become of her. Though, they didn’t know the details. They didn’t know what it really took to make the dreams of Malibu Barbie real.

“Okay, let’s take this reunion to the back porch. My cheese is melting,” Hope said.

“That’s menopause for you. Mine’s always melting, even in February,” J.J. added.

“J.J. spare this nice man the details of our hot flashes,” Libby said.

“Oh, Joe, he’s not a nice man. He’s a rake, in the best possible way, of course,” J.J. said.

“Oh, Joe! Yes, Dean was singing your praises. We need to talk. We have a lot to talk about.” Libby broke up their little circle and zeroed in on Joe.

“See, I’m not a squatter,” Joe said, winking at Goldie.

She rolled her eyes. She didn’t really think he was, not after the washing machine rescue. But she was not going to admit she’d been wrong, dramatic, or totally ill-equipped to handle lake life.

What had happened to her? She used to manage the maintenance of half a dozen of her family’s rentals. Now, she could barely wade into the lake, ankle deep.

“What? A squatter?” Libby said.

“I startled Ms. Hayes. From her perspective, I can see how if she’s Malibu Barbie, I’m King Kong,” Joe said.

Goldie rolled her eyes again.

This man annoyed her. That was it. He annoyed her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to introduce you and well, meet you myself.”

“No harm done, right, Ms. Hayes?”

She sniffed in answer. He could have done a better job making it clear, and Goldie had decided not to give Joe Cassidy the satisfaction of anything.

“Okay, so you all head in. I’ll touch base with Joe really quick here,” Libby said. She turned her attention to Joe. J.J. and Hope turned their focus onto Goldie.

“We have so much to catch up on. Thank goodness I made a pitcher of green juice,” J.J. said.

“Green juice?” Goldie asked.

“Don’t ask, and also, don’t drink it too fast,” Hope said.

The two women guided Goldie up to Nora House.

Goldie took a sharp breath in.

“Oh, my gosh, it still looks so beautiful.” There was simply not a better spot to see Lake Manitou than this wall of windows unless you were on that expansive lakeside porch.

“Right? Nora House doesn’t disappoint,” said Hope.

They proceeded out to the porch, and Goldie scanned the view for a moment.

“The pontoon, and oh my gosh! Our raft!”

“Right, Aunt Emma gave it all to Libby. She’s making sure it’s appointed to keep us floating and happy.”

“Libby said you’re a stylist.”

“Please, I do hair. I do it well. Calling me a stylist is a little high tone for Irish Hills.”

“Well, Libby’s hair looks amazing, and I know you’re the reason.”

“True, true.”

Hope added a dish of a creamy-looking dip to the center of crackers.

“And she tells me you own a restaurant here now.”

“I do, Hope’s Table. We’re small but mighty,” Hope said.

Libby joined them.

“What did Joe say? How’s it looking for the Two Lakes?”

“J.J., number one, thanks to Dean, we’ve got the hottest contractor I’ve ever seen working at that place,” Libby said.

“Oh, I told him, only hire silver foxes with six packs. He listened, for once.”

“You two are terrible,” Hope said.

“Well, you’ve only got eyes for the neighbor boy,” J.J. said.

“What now?” Goldie loved their easy banter. She wondered if she would be able to fit back in to keep up. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than this.

“Oh yes, Hope bought one of the cottages at the end of Orchard Beach and Cottage Drive, and her neighbor is the town lawman.”

“Lawman, you make it sound like we live in Deadwood.”

Hope turned to Goldie and boxed out J.J. and Libby.