Page 7 of Sandbar Summer (Summer Cottage #3)

Chapter Five

Goldie

Libby was quiet as they landed at the small airport. It was a dark night now in Michigan. The day they’d had seemed as though it had lasted for a month.

Goldie appreciated Libby giving her space. And she was grateful to have a friend right now. She was so stung by Hollis. He knew her. She thought he respected her.

But he was in it for the buck, just like everyone in L.A.

Tally had arranged for a driver to meet them at the airport. That was Goldie’s instruction, except when they got there, it was a rental car with no driver.

“Crap, this won’t do.”

The Net Jet flight attendant loaded her bags into the back of the SUV. Was this a Ford? She hadn’t been in a Ford since her last time in Michigan. She smiled, seeing the logo. Her dad drove a Ford Bronco, and her first car was a used Ford Escort. Back when she used to drive.

“Didn’t you tell Tally to pack two weeks’ worth of clothes?” Libby asked.

“Yes, she obviously didn’t listen.”

“Ha, yeah, five bags is uh—”

“—Ridiculous, there’s no way I have everything I need,” Goldie said.

“Really? I was thinking you’d probably need one bag, if that, for a month here,” Libby laughed.

“Well, anyway, who’s going to drive?” Goldie said. “I haven’t driven myself anywhere since Y2K.”

“I got you.”

Libby took charge again, getting behind the wheel. Goldie got in next to her. Libby really was a godsend right now.

Goldie was so impressed with her old friend. She had stepped in and protected Goldie. She’d seen the fans turn on her before Goldie sensed it.

Libby drove, first on a dark highway, with a little traffic, but not much. And then they pulled off the highway onto a rural state route.

Finally, they turned again on a country road. Goldie knew the roads, but thirty years was a long time. And it was dark, darker than L.A. ever got, even at midnight. There were always lights in L.A.

“Does it look the same?”

“Exactly. Though, there is still tornado damage. A lot of people picked up and left after that.”

Goldie wasn’t quite a townie—J.J. was the only true Irish Hills resident back in their day—but she was close.

Goldie grew up in Tecumseh, Michigan. Her family owned a grand Victorian home on Chicago Boulevard.

But they also owned a string of rental cottages on Lake Manitou.

At the height of her parents’ rental business, they owned eight on Cedar Point Beach.

The Libby family were founding homeowners in the area, but so were the Goulds.

Goldie’s grandparents had the foresight to buy a stretch of beach and construct a row of small cottages.

They all had names. There were The Poplars, The Sunnynook, The Cedars, and The Hickories.

Goldie tried to remember all eight names, but they didn’t come to her right then.

Each cottage layout was the same: two bedrooms, one bathroom, an efficiency-style kitchen, and a back porch.

That was it, but that was all that was needed for a vacation on the lake.

The Gould family stayed in one each summer and managed the rest for renters.

Sometimes they’d hop from week to week to whatever cottage was open.

While the Libbys came to live, the Goulds came to manage the rentals. Goldie spent most summer mornings doing whatever her dad said needed to be done for the cottage guests. And then he’d let her run wild for the rest of the day.

Every summer.

The cottages had been severely damaged in the tornado. Goldie thought back to that day when her dad explained how it was more financially prudent to get the insurance money and cash out.

And that was it. No more Lake Manitou summers. Though, to be honest. Goldie wasn’t interested in being here or in Tecumseh or the Midwest by the time she was seventeen.

She knew she was headed for Hollywood by the time she was in first grade.

She was ready to go find her fame before her high school cap hit the ground at graduation. She was in such a hurry. Now, all she wanted was to slow things down a bit.

Libby insisted that Goldie stay with her at Nora House, owing to the late hour.

“I’m not dropping you off at the hotel in the middle of the night,” Libby insisted. “But if you’re up to it, I’ll drive past it on the way.”

Despite the hour, Goldie was awake. She had a lot to think about. Plans to make. But one thing was certain: she’d be hidden here. No one would suspect she’d high-tailed it from the Chateau Marmont to the middle of nowhere Midwest.

“It’s just up there,” Libby said.

Goldie pictured what all this looked like in daylight, but it was a thirty-year-old memory. Who knew what it looked like now, in what state?

“What do you remember about the big hotel?”

“Ice cream socials there? We also used to get renters to ask about it. I remember that. They’d go over to the slide. There was a big yard, beach, and shuffleboard, right?”

“You got it. Two Lakes Grove Hotel is no Chateau Marmont, but she’s a grand dame! She could use someone like you who has a history here.”

Goldie ignored the sales pitch. She wanted a hideout not to turn into Bob Newhart. What was that show where he had a hotel? Goldie’s mind always reverted to TV and movies.

They drove off the main road and onto an offshoot that led to the hotel.

Despite the hour, the moonlight did its job. It reflected off the inky lake and gave a glow to the building Libby pointed out.

The hotel was there, it had to be one of the biggest structures on the lake, bigger even than Libby’s Nora House, but Goldie remembered it as summery and elegant. She had no way to tell now, as they rolled up in the middle of the night.

Libby slowed down. Goldie could make out the outline of Two Lakes. She had an urge to get out, walk the huge lake-facing porch, explore the rooms, and just get lost in something that wasn’t her career drama.

But Libby was right. It was night. They’d traveled a long way since the morning when her agent stabbed her in the back.

“I’m excited to get in there and explore.” And she was. A hotel all to herself, with no fanboys or people trying to get pictures of her looking old in her swimsuit.

“You’ll have total anonymity. Not a soul would suspect the world’s biggest movie star was holed up at Two Lakes Grove.”

“That sounds like Grey Gardens.”

“Nonsense, you’ll add life, not haunt it.”

They turned from the road to a private drive and drove a mile. They didn’t encounter another single vehicle.

Goldie strained to see more of the tree-lined lane that led to Nora House.

“How many times did I ride my bike up here?”

“Countless.”

Goldie and Libby’s history went back the farthest of the Sandbar Sisters. They had run around together as soon as they were old enough to drop training wheels. Their families had owned places here in what seemed like the “olden days” to both of them.

Nora House was a second home to Goldie. The drive curved in a familiar way. The dark tree cover opened up to the house and the darkly shimmering lake beyond.

“Wow, she’s a beauty, even in the dark.”

“Thank you. Aunt Emma was going to get me back here, one way or another, and once I got here, I was so angry with myself for forgetting how much I loved it.”

“It was fun, those days,” Goldie said. But she had no regrets leaving her small town roots for her big fancy life. No, not one bit.

But still, her heart felt warm, knowing she’d get a chance to revisit some of the good times here for a few days at least.

“Which one of these do you need?” Libby asked Goldie.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

Goldie was used to bags appearing in her room. She was accustomed to linens being turned down and counters being wiped, all without her participation. This had been the case for decades now.

She sourced out the day-to-day chores of life to focus on her career.

This career focus included maintaining the illusion of her appearance with workouts, facials, injections, and the occasional surgical tweak.

She filled her days preparing for a role, performing the role, promoting the movie, or negotiating for the next role.

Her nights were about charity events and proper sleep.

Getting her own bag from the back of a car? She had people for that. She wasn’t ashamed of that. She had designed her life around her career. But here, now, it made her look a little silly.

Goldie grabbed the bag that had her casual clothing. They were packed to her specifications, so she knew which one contained her skin care, her supplements, and her other toiletries.

“Ah, well, if Tally did the packing right, this one would do. Casual attire is still de rigueur in Irish Hills?” Goldie asked.

“Quite. I’d loan you some cut-offs and a sweatshirt, but I’m twice your size.”

“You’re trim and model lanky. I wish I had your height. I swear those bro dude directors won’t let me do action because I’m short. No amount of Botox can fix that situation.”

“Do you want to do action?”

“No, but still, it’s the principle.”

Goldie gripped the two bags, and they walked into Nora House. Outdoor lanterns glowed, and a light was on in the foyer to guide them.

“Oh, Libby, it’s so perfect.”

“Thank you, Aunt Emma kept it up well. I have a lot to do, but saving Irish Hills is first; renovating this ancient kitchen is second.”

“No, I love it just this way, the way we remember it.”

“Well, the Wi-Fi is updated, so that’s good if you need to check-in, or maybe it’s best not to look for a day or so.”

“Or ever again.”

“It will blow over; this trending stuff comes in and goes out before you can blink.”

“I hope.”

“Meantime, I’ll show you to your room.”

They went through the beautiful main sitting room. Wall-to-wall windows made it easy to see how Libby’s automotive mogul great-grandfather knew this was the best spot in the county for a house.

“I’ve got you at this end of the hall. You’ve got the use of this bathroom. I’m downstairs. Can I get you something to eat? Anything?”

“Libby, no, nothing else. I never eat at night. I’m rather exhausted. Do you mind if I just crash? The breeze seems lovely, and the room is perfect.”

Though Goldie was hungry, she was used to feeling empty. Feeling empty meant she could fit into her wardrobe.

“Girlfriend, sleep. Sleep in. Tune out. Whatever you need. We’ll go to the hotel tomorrow whenever you want.”

“Okay, but I sort of want to go early. If that’s okay. Before anyone around here is up and about.”

If this was going to work, this hideout, she’d need to be in the secluded Two Lakes Grove Hotel before anyone could catch on.

“Sure, I get up early. I’ll be ready when you are.”

Libby reached out and gave Goldie’s arm a squeeze.

Libby was a hugger, Goldie knew, but she wasn’t ready to let down her guard.

In fact, once she got to Two Lakes, she would fortify the walls she had between her and the rest of the world.

She’d think of it as a retreat or something. Meditate. Detox. Plan. It could work.

Libby padded downstairs and let Goldie settle in.

The room was a throwback to the sixties of the Kennedy era.

There was a wicker high-back chair in the corner and a tufted bedspread on the double bed.

An ornate dresser, a mirror on one wall, and a little attached bathroom.

Everything was neat and well cared for, just outdated, but somehow, Goldie was comforted by all the style, the era.

She grew up in the eighties but with sixties décor all around her.

She hoped Libby didn’t overdo the makeovers of this house. It had a vibe that worked.

Goldie set up in the little bathroom and removed her makeup.

She applied the ten different steps required to keep her skin exfoliated and hydrated.

Finally, she collapsed onto the little bed.

A double was tiny, really. But it was comfortable enough for Goldie to fall asleep.

No Ambien, no cocktail, no melatonin, just the gentle breeze in the window, the lapping of the water on the dock outside, and the clean, cool sheets surrounding her did the trick.