“Sure, tomorrow,” Logan said. “How about around ten? Do you want me to come to your place, or—?”
“I’ll come to you,” Junior said quickly. “Where are you staying?”
“Mountain Springs Lodge. Right on the lake.”
“Okay, I’ll be there at ten.” Junior’s voice firmed. “That will work for me. Thanks for understanding.”
“I’m calling from my cell phone, by the way, if you need to reach me.”
“Right.” But Junior didn’t sound like that was actually helpful. He likely had no plans to include him in the funeral in an official manner. “We’ll talk later.”
Junior hung up without a goodbye, and Logan stood there, staring at the phone in his hand. He’d wondered what it would feel like to know that his father was gone when he’d first arrived. He hadn’t known how that would feel.
And somehow, he still didn’t. None of this felt real. It was a strange wash of shock. Harry Wilde, the father who’d never been quite enough, was dead, and the last conversation he’d had with the man had been Harry talking about Junior’s career, his wife, his kids...
They still hadn’t managed to get past that wall. And while Junior sounded choked up, and had probably shed some tears already, Logan was dry-eyed.
“My dad is dead.” He said it aloud, trying out the words on his tongue. It didn’t make them feel any more real.
His chest ached, though—the old ache that he used to carry around with him after Caroline passed, and again after his mother’s death. This time, he wasn’t sure that he even had a right to it.
Because all these years, Logan had stayed away. He could have visited ages ago. He could have dropped himself on his father’s doorstep when Graham was a little kid—introduced the boy to his grandfather. He could have brought Caroline with him. He could have come after she died...
But Logan hadn’t. He’d been just as guilty in the breakdown of their relationship as Harry had been. They were both grown men. And just like his father, he’d damaged relationships with the people he loved most. He and Harry were the same—patting themselves on the back for being “family men” while they screwed it up.
“My dad is dead,” he whispered again, and this time, his voice caught.
MELANIE WORE A midnight blue dress tonight—one that she’d only worn twice in her lifetime, both to charity events back when she’d been married. It was a silky sleeveless dress with a high neck and a slim fitting waist. The hemline was asymmetrical, cut at her knees in the front and longer in the back. It had been expensive when she’d bought it, but worth it. At least she’d thought so at the time.
She enjoyed some laughter and general updating on each other’s lives. Belle had met a nice guy, but she wasn’t convinced he was nice enough. Angelina had some ideas about renovating the honeymoon suite at the lodge, and Renata’s kids were still upset with her for not taking their father back. Gayle had been a stoic support for the rest of them. Life wasn’t always easy, but discussing it over a fine dinner seemed to make it all seem more manageable somehow.
When the evening wound down, Renata was the first to leave. She didn’t want to leave her kids alone too long, even though the oldest was a certified babysitter. Belle and Gayle left next, and then it was Angelina’s turn to yawn.
“I have to work in the morning,” Angelina said, “so I’ve got to get home.”
“It’s way past my bedtime, too,” Melanie admitted. “Thank you for including me in this.”
“Thanks for being included.” Her friend shot her a smile.
“Good night, Angelina.”
As Melanie gathered up her things, she let Angelina go on ahead, and she made her way out of the dining room. There was one other table of guests who were still enjoying dessert and some drinks, but the staff were cleaning up and obviously getting things ready for breakfast the next morning.
Melanie nodded her thanks to their server, who smiled back.
This had been a lovely evening—almost perfect—and as she came out the dining room door, she spotted Logan on his way back into the lodge. She smiled, but when she saw his face, her own smile slipped.
Logan’s face was pale and he looked shaken.
“Hi,” she said crossing the foyer toward him.
“Hey.” He reached out and touched her cheek—his finger lingering against her skin, and he didn’t seem to notice the familiar gesture.
“Are you okay?” she asked, reaching up to take his hand in hers. “Our dinner just ended, and...”
“I, um, went down to a little pub for the evening,” he said. “I got some news earlier—my dad died.”
Melanie stared in shock for a moment. “He’s...gone?”
They’d only seen him a couple of days ago.
“My brother let me know. I called to make plans to visit Harry together, and... Anyways, it was another stroke, they think,” Logan said softly.
“I’m so sorry, Logan,” she breathed. “You could have called me.”
“Nah, I wanted the time to myself, actually.” His hand was still in hers, and he gave her fingers a squeeze but didn’t let go. “I wouldn’t mind the company now, though.”
“Of course.”
It was late, and there was a hush in the lodge. The last of the people left the dining room and one couple headed into the sitting room, and the others went up the staircase, their voices low.
“Do you want to go out to the lake?” Logan asked.
They headed for the front door together. The wind was cool, but not cold. Logan’s body heat emanated against her. He still had her hand in his, and it felt natural to walk like this together. She leaned against him, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her against him.
The night was quiet, a sliver of a moon shining on the smooth lake.
