Lost Lake (Lost Lake, #1)(74)

“When was the last time anyone saw her?” Bulahdeen asked.

“I saw her yesterday,” Devin said. “She went back to her cabin and got really dressed up, then left.”

“Has anyone checked her cabin?” Everyone shook their heads. They didn’t seem terribly concerned. “Eby, could I take the spare key and check?”

Eby smiled and went to the front desk. She handed Bulahdeen the key and said, “It’s on your head if she finds out someone went into her cabin without her permission.”

Bulahdeen took the key and walked to Selma’s cabin. She’d been sharp with Selma yesterday on the dock, and she regretted it. She’d been mad at her for saying good-bye at the party. But being mad at someone for acting exactly the way you assume they’ll act is no one’s fault but your own.

When Bulahdeen entered, Selma’s perfume greeted her like a wet dog, getting all over her. That woman loved her perfume.

Bulahdeen stood in the middle of the cabin and looked around, frowning. Nothing looked out of place. Well, everything was out of place, but that was how Selma liked it. The couch was littered with reading materials carelessly scattered around. The bathroom was full of her pots and potions and scented lotions. She could see from here that the bed was covered in candy wrappers and hadn’t been slept in. Where did she go? Bulahdeen worried about Selma. She was always pushing people away. That’s why Bulahdeen always pushed back. For nearly thirty years, ever since meeting her here at the lake, she had called Selma on the first Thursday of every month, and if Selma didn’t feel like talking, well, then, Bulahdeen did all the talking, filling her in on everything going on in her life. The one month Bulahdeen forgot to call, when Charlie was first moved into the nursing home and Bulahdeen was tired and frazzled and spending all her time getting him settled, Selma showed up, having driven all night from Mississippi, because she couldn’t get in touch with Bulahdeen. She’d been mad that Bulahdeen wasn’t dead, for all the trouble she’d caused, and she’d refused to take Bulahdeen’s calls for months afterward. But she’d come around.

Bulahdeen’s eyes landed on the mantle, where Selma had placed the photos of her husbands. She displayed them in much the same way a hunter displays a moose head. She’d hunted them down. It had taken work. And she was proud of her trophies. Bulahdeen had always been fascinated by Selma’s power over men. She was utterly in control. Always. That seemed to defeat the point of being with a man, but to each his own. Selma too made her own endings.

That’s when it occurred to her.

Bulahdeen saw the box on the mantle and picked it up. She slowly lifted the lid.

When she looked inside, she thought, I’ll be damned.

Sometimes, the best endings are the ones that surprise you. Sometimes, the best are the ones that have everything happening exactly how you want it to happen. But the absolute perfect endings are when you get a little of both.

She put the box back, then she locked the door behind her and went back to the main house.

“Any clues?” Kate asked.

“One or two,” Bulahdeen said, handing the key back to Eby. “She’ll be back. She never goes anywhere without her husbands.”

The phone rang and Eby went to answer it.

Bulahdeen went to the buffet table to fill up her plate. Being nosy was hard work. She stopped when she saw a chair in the corner. “Isn’t that the chair Lisette always keeps in the kitchen?”

“Yes,” Jack said from his table by the door. He was supposed to have left yesterday. When Bulahdeen saw Lisette sneaking out of his cabin early this morning, she knew why he hadn’t.

“What’s it doing out here?”

“She doesn’t need it anymore.”

She turned to him curiously. “And how do you know that?”

Jack kept his eyes on his plate, but he began to blush. Bulahdeen laughed and turned back to the buffet. She paused when she saw the bowl of mixed fruit. For the first time ever, they were cut into all sorts of shapes. The pineapples were stars. The strawberries were mice faces. What the…? This was happy food. Lisette was making happy food.

Eby got off the phone. She walked to the archway leading to the dining room and said, “I don’t know what to think of this.” She put her long hands to her cheeks. Bulahdeen always thought Eby had beautiful hands. She was trembling.

“What’s wrong, Eby?” Kate asked.

“That was Lazlo Patterson.”

“Is he coming by?” Kate asked. “Do you have time to get your lawyer out here?”

“He’s not coming by. He said he’s having a family situation. He told his wife he was divorcing her this morning. Between that and Wes not selling his land…” She laughed. “He’s decided to drop the project.”

Everyone got to their feet and surged toward Eby in the foyer with a flurry of questions.

“What game is he playing now?” Kate asked.

“I don’t think he’s playing,” Eby said in amazement. “I told him to give it to me in writing, and he agreed. And he sent his lawyer home.”

“So you’re not selling Lost Lake?” Bulahdeen asked. “Hot diggity!”

“Apparently not. Not to Lazlo, anyway,” Eby said. “Kate, are you still looking for that investment?”

“I am,” she said, taking Eby’s hand. “I am so ready.”