Seduction at Whispering Lakes

The letter her mother had left behind said it hadn’t taken her long to learn she wasn’t cut out to be a wife or mother, citing selfishness for the reason she’d left her family. Brody wasn’t to blame for anything Camille had felt or had written in the letter. Camille suffered from clinical depression. He’d gone to his death never knowing that, at 16, his daughter had read the letter Camille had written to her husband.

Camille had loved both her husband and daughter. She had simply yearned for freedom.

China had only recently stopped blaming her mother for her painful childhood. Brody had constantly instilled in her that she was solely responsible for her own happiness. It would’ve broken his heart to know his only child had learned that her birth had made her mother’s life even more unbearable.

The yearly birthday and Christmas cards China received from Camille were as close as she’d ever been to her mother since her departure. China had often wished Camille would one day drop back into her life but refused to set herself up for another major letdown.

China had learned to accept things for what they were. She wasn’t bitter or angry anymore. She truly loved her mother, regardless of why she’d left. The last thing she wanted was to have her mother go away like Brody had. His departure was final.

Stepping into the dimly lit dining room, China looked around for Zaire. She’d hoped he would’ve been waiting outside for her. Standing at the front entry for several minutes proved futile. Appearing cool and collected, she wore a cute capped-sleeve sheath in bright red, perfectly paired with fashionable red-and-white sandals.

Coming up behind China, Bernice gently tapped her on the shoulder.

A bright smile already in place, China turned. “Hi, Ms. Bernice, how are you?”

“I’m well, young lady. How has your day been?”

China sensed an underlying meaning in Bernice’s remark by the way she’d voiced it. “I loved every moment of it. Zaire is a perfect instructor and tour guide.”

Bernice beamed with pride. “That boy of mine is wonderful. He called me to tell you he’s running a little late.” She pointed at a cozy corner spot. “That’s the table he reserved. Want to come into the kitchen with me before you get settled?”

“I’d like that.” China smiled brightly. “How was frying up all that fish?”

“Cooking is second nature to me, child. Some of our guests like fish broiled or mesquite grilled so we do our best to prepare it to order. Most folks enjoy it fried. You had quite a catch. More fish than I’ve seen one person catch in a while.”

Heading toward the double doors in the rear, China walked alongside Bernice. “I’m proud of my haul. Zaire helped out big-time. My dad would’ve been thrilled.”

“Zaire mentioned your dad to me. Our family is very familiar with Mr. B. He was a special man. He and Morgan loved to play poker. Both men had an insatiable desire to master our mechanical bull.” Bernice laughed. “Morgan and Brody called it Mr. Red. Let’s just say they had fun being thrown off and then scrambling to get right back on.”

“I’ve heard so much about the bull from Dad. He talked about Mr. Red a lot.”

“Think you’ll try riding old Red, China?”

China nodded. “With Dad looking down on me, I know he’d be disappointed if I didn’t give it a whirl. Is Mr. Red really so tough to ride?”

“For some folks he is.” Opening the double doors by hitting a metal button, Bernice let China precede her. “It depends a lot on the bull’s settings. Most men try riding it on the highest one. It’s a macho thing. Many guys fail for that reason alone.”

China chuckled. “I hear you and your sisters are pretty good at riding it.”

“Practice makes perfect in some instances, but we’re far from it. We’ve earned quite a bit of envy around here. After mastering each setting, we keep breaking our own timing records. Josephine is the best. She stays on longer than anyone.”

China cracked up. “I can’t wait to try it out. You make it sound exciting.”

“It is exciting, but the kitchen is my favorite hangout. We purchased all brand-new appliances for this one last year.” Bernice spread her arms wide. “I love stainless steel. It’s easy to clean.” Bernice enjoyed showing China around her favorite haunt, obviously proud of the state-of-the-art cooking gallery. She introduced China to their chefs and other kitchen staff, something she rarely did. Bernice felt really good about China.

Bernice peered at the large clock. “I’d better get you to your table. If Zaire hasn’t made it yet, he’ll be here any minute. There’s no way he’d miss out on this evening. He’s looking forward to it.”

China wanted to probe further into Bernice’s comments, but she didn’t dare.

Was Zaire really looking forward to spending more time with her?

Zaire entered the kitchen at the same time Bernice and China exited. Wasting no time, he pulled his mother into his arms. Turning to face China, his eyes danced with pleasure as he checked her out from head to toe. That she looked well-rested pleased him. The withered look she’d worn earlier had worried him.

Zaire’s eyes then connected with his mother’s hopeful gaze. The look he gave her back let her know he was entertaining optimism, surprisingly so.

Smiling, he extended his arm to China. “Our table’s ready for us, Miss Lady.”

China giggled, hating her immature response. She’d noticed the interesting look he’d given his mother. Bernice had lifted her eyebrows over what she’d interpreted the glance to mean. China couldn’t help wondering what each expression meant.

A single yellow rose nesting in a crystal bud vase put a lovely smile on China’s lips. Looking around with practiced discretion, she saw that the other centerpieces were pillar candles inside glass holders. The rose was specifically intended for her.

Lifting the vase, China inhaled the delicate scent of the rose. “Mm, I love most flowers, but roses are my favorite. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” He pulled out her chair. “Ready to taste the fish you caught?”

“I can hardly wait.” China sat down and placed the linen napkin on her lap. “I enjoyed touring the fabulous kitchen. It’s a very busy place.”

“Newly remodeled and busy nearly twenty-four hours a day. If you ever come back, you’ll notice more wear and tear. Mom is magical at cleaning, but the shine does go away.”

“I would think so. Are your aunts coming in for dinner?”

Glancing at his watch, Zaire laughed. “They’re probably at bingo already. Our favorite ladies play bingo in town every Saturday evening. They want to make it a part of our activities schedule, but I don’t want to incorporate gambling here. It doesn’t work for me. Zurich and Zane side with me on the issue.”

China raised an eyebrow. “Do you really consider bingo gambling?”

“If money is involved, it’s gambling. We have to think about the kids. If our aunts wanted to conduct bingo games using prizes instead of money, I’d be okay with it.”

Appearing suddenly at the table, Gayle interrupted the couple’s conversation, greeting China with a melodic hello and a sweet smile. She then kissed the top of Zaire’s head. “I’m only filling in for a half hour or so. One of the waitresses is sick. What do you two want for sides? We have coleslaw, potato and macaroni salads, French fries and onion rings.”

China smiled. “I’d like macaroni salad.”

“Come on now, Gayle. You’ve been around our family enough to know I like potato salad with fish,” Zaire playfully scolded.

Gayle laughed. “You could’ve had a change in taste. Macaroni and potato salad are coming right up.”

“There you go,” he teased, laughing.

Gayle pulled a face. “I’ll be back with your meals.”

“Of the two salads, which is your favorite?” China asked Zaire.

“I love them both, but I always eat potato salad with fish. If Mom fixes deviled eggs while you’re here, line up in a hurry.”

“Deviled eggs are spring and summer treats at our house. Dad was a superb chef. I was allowed to choose my foods and saw it as a blessing, since all parents aren’t able to give their children choices. Never did I have to eat anything I didn’t like, but I was encouraged to at least taste a variety of foods.”

“You haven’t mentioned your mom yet. Did she cook for you, too?”

China sucked in a calming breath. “I don’t know my mother. Let me rephrase that. I didn’t grow up with my mother, but I knew her as much as any four-year-old is capable of. Memories fade.”