A Billionaire's Secret Baby - Chapter 20

In the morning, I awoke in the soft sheets of the four-poster bed. I turned and watched the smooth curve of Lola’s shoulder down to her slim waist. I listened to her soft breathing, and for the first time in weeks, I realized I’d woken up calm and relaxed. Sleep had been impossible for the past few weeks, a restless rolling schedule of nightmares and anxiety. But here, in the lake-house, I felt peaceful, and for a while, I listened to Lola’s breathing while the sun rose and the room turned from blue to burnished orange.

I got up and got dressed in a rough, cable-knit sweater and a pair of ripped jeans I found in the chest of drawers. I went downstairs and got into the car.

The town of Gemini was ten minutes’ drive from the house, and though O’Rourke had told me not to see anyone or do anything, I already knew I wasn’t going to listen to his advice. It was impossible. How could I hole up in the lake-house for days, without doing something, without moving? I might be feeling lighter today, but I still wanted to take my mind off The Blue Orchid.

I got some things at the market and the grocery store, and drove back. On my way, I called the sailing club from the hands-free headset in the car.

“Good morning,” I said, keeping my eyes on the narrow, winding road leading back up to the lakehouse. “This is Alex Lowe speaking.”

“Mr. Lowe,” said Lonnie, the yacht club attendant. “How can I help you?”

“I’m at my lakehouse and I wanted to know if I could take the boat out this morning, say at 11.”

“Why, of course, sir. I’ll have The Marie loaded at the dock for you. Would you like anything on board?”

“Champagne and sparkling water on ice, please.”

“Very good sir.”

When I got back to the house, I was delighted to see Lola sitting on the porch, wearing an old shirt of mine. She was drinking a cup of coffee, warming her hands with the steaming mug. I parked and got out, striding across the yard. Her flame-red tresses spilled over her shoulder and she looked up at me with a soft smile.

“Thought you’d run away in the night and left me,” she said, jokingly.

“What? You?” I said, bending down. I kissed her and caught the taste of toothpaste and coffee.

“Made you a cup, though,” said Lola softly. “Just in case you came back.”

“How thoughtful,” I said, accepting the cup and drinking.

“What do you want to do today?”

“How’d you fancy going sailing with me?”

“Sailing? On Lake Otisco?”

“Sure. Come on, it’s not far to drive.”

“Is it safe?”

“Of course it is,” I said.

When we got to the marina at the yachting club, they’d already prepared The Marie for me. When I’d bought this place, I’d bought a small schooner too, and I was fond of sailing. I’d done it on a school-trip once as a kid, and enjoying learning to tie the knots and fly the sails was about the only thing I’d really learned at school.

The boat had a light blue hull, and a sanded deck. We parked by the marina and stepped onto the jetty, and before long, I’d found her. I put a hand on the wood and felt the rough, sandy texture.

“Pretty, huh?” I said.

“It’s enormous!” said Lola.

“Well, you’d be surprised how much boat you need to feel comfortable.”

I leaped up on board, and offered my hand to Lola. With one swift motion, I hoisted her into the hull. I took off the gangplank and undid the mooring, before letting down a few sails and heading to the wheel. It took a bit of knowledge to keep the craft heading in the right direction, and I was pretty rusty. But soon we were sailing out onto the Lake, with the sun slowly rising up to the center of the sky.

Sailing was fun, but it was hard work too, exhausting me. I hardly had time to talk to Lola. So when I’d brought us out to the shimmering center of the water, I began to slow the boat down, turning it into the wind and feeling the sails’ resistance.

“This is amazing,” said Lola, stretching her arms out in the center of the boat. “Feels strange out here, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding as I leaned on the wheel of the ship, lasciviously watching her. My eyes stayed fixed on the slender flesh on her arms, her skin slowly bronzing in the sun, while I furled the sails in.

“Feels like I’m alone out here with you, in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, you are,” I grinned.

“Not like that.” Lola sat up and looked at me over the brow of her sunglasses. “I mean that it feels as though New York doesn’t exist.”

“For me, it doesn’t anymore,” I said, staring at the water which stretched in all directions. Hills and green forest rose up above the shore. “I mean, my life in New York is over.”

“Over?” said Lola. Her face was concerned.

“Without The Blue Orchid, I have nothing to keep me there.”

“What about all your other clubs? And your apartment, and your helicopter?”

I expelled a breath of air, and stepped closer to her, sitting down. “I suppose,” I said, “they’re not as important to me anymore.”

“Well, money and material things should never be important to you,” said Lola.

“If not them, what is?” I said.

“People,” she replied.

“Well,” I said, reaching towards the champagne bucket and removing the bottle. “Let’s drink to people.”

***

There weren’t many places to eat in town, and I was worried someone at the yachting club might recognize me. So after we’d come back, we walked into town, and stopped at a humble, ordinary, everyday diner.

“Coffee?” said a waitress, walking by our table.

“Yes please,” I said.

“Sure,” said Lola.

She filled our cups and walked away, eyeing us curiously. We looked a funny pair, Lola dressed up in my shirt, which was enormous on her, and a cute pair of jeans. We both wore a pair of sunglasses, just to make sure no one was going to recognize us.

“I haven’t been to one of these in about fifteen years,” I said.

“Don’t worry,” she said, winking. “They’re still just the same.”

“Do you like them?” I said. “There was one in Philly I used to go to with my mom now and then. I used to have corned beef sandwiches and a milkshake, every time.”

“Was it nice?”

“No!”

Lola laughed. “Getting taken to the diner was a big treat back home.”

“Where do you take Macy when you’re not at work?” I said.

I saw Lola shift a little uncomfortably in her seat. “Why do you want to know?” she said, a little defensively.

“I’m just interested in what you do with a kid,” I said. “Been a while since I was one myself.”

“Well, Macy’s good at school, and I like to take her to museums and read to her a lot,” said Lola. “And if she’s been real good, I’ll take her out for burgers and ice-cream every once in a while.”

“She got many friends?” I said.

“Oh, sure. You know she and Sara’s kid Raul are best friends?”

“That’s nice.”

We chatted away like that for a little while. Out here, without the pressures of my work, the pressures of the case against me, I felt able to relax, and suddenly all the empty spaces in my mind wanted to be filled with Lola. Out here, we could have the closeness I’d longed for.

We were casually chatting away when all of a sudden, I looked up and saw an old guy at the other end of the diner. He was in a booth on his own. I guess he was only a little shorter than me, but he seemed small, lean and wiry. He had rough skin and a pair of blue eyes. Where had I seen those blue eyes before, brilliant and intense? And where had I seen his scraggly beard and gray hair?

“Strange,” I muttered.

“Hm?” said Lola.

I whispered to her in a low voice.

“Six o’clock. Gray beard, blue eyes. Wearing a baseball cap. I think I know him?”

Lola turned around.

“I’ve seen him before.”

“Where?”

“The Blue Orchid,” I said.

“What? Eating?”

“No. He was outside. He said his son used to work there.”

“No,” I said. “I would have known. He would have—”

“What?” said Lola.

“I’ve seen him too,” I said.

Only for a second. I remembered it: the day I’d gone out for a walk around the block. I’d brushed him off in the street. What had he said? It’s me.

Like I knew him from somewhere else.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get back to the house.”