The Summer Town Read online

  THE SUMMER TOWN

  In this sequel to the Amazon Kindle #1 selection for Mystery Thriller and Suspense, The EmmaLee Affairs, a captivating story of a shocking crime, bitter betrayal and enduring love, bridging time and a vast cultural divide.

  A novel by

  MICHAEL LINDLEY

  Sage River Press

  Novels by Michael Lindley

  THE “TROUBLED WATERS” SERIES

  THE EMMALEE AFFAIRS

  (Formerly published as The Seasons of the EmmaLee)

  THE SUMMER TOWN

  BEND TO THE TEMPEST

  (Formerly published as Grayton Winds)

  LIES WE NEVER SEE

  A FOLLOWING SEA

  DEATH ON THE NEW MOON

  Michael Lindley Amazon Author Page

  https://michaellindleynovels.com/

  The EmmaLee on Round Lake in Charlevoix, Michigan

  DEDICATION

  This second book is dedicated to my wife Karen and children, Chase and Kristen, who have been more than patient and supportive in my time away lost in the story of the EmmaLee. ML

  “All things truly wicked start from an innocence.”

  - Ernest Hemingway

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  A Note From Michael Lindley

  An Invitation To Share Michael Lindley Novels

  Also By Michael Lindley

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Only when you have a chance to rise above the physical world and stand apart from the life you’ve led and the people who have shaped your life, can you begin to see the ironic patterns in all of this. In passing on from your time in the here and now, off into the bright light of the eternal, it is so surprising to be able to look back upon your life with such terrible clarity and insight. As I looked down that day on the people I’ve known and loved, gathered in the small cemetery in Charlevoix to honor my passing, the memories swept back to me in vivid and often haunting detail.

  How quickly our time on this Earth passes and yet, before us lies the promise of new hope and salvation, as well as the inevitable failings of those who will follow us. The generations continue on and the seasons return in their relentless progression.

  Time is the ultimate irony.

  Megan Clark felt the warmth of her stepmother’s hand in her own. If there was ever a good day for a funeral, this must surely be one of them, she thought. The first warm day in June had arrived with just a trace of wind sending soft swirls out across the lake and a gentle rustling through the tall pines in the cemetery. The midday sun moved high across the tops of the trees. The sky was a deep blue, unfettered by clouds and the air carried the scents of new growth in the summer gardens. The pastor spoke softly, sending words of comfort and hope to those in attendance.

  Megan looked at the people gathered around her. Most were dressed in somber dark clothes. Many were looking at the ground in front of them in reverence. Easily more than one hundred people had come to pay their respects to their friend and loved one, George Hansen. At the age of eighty-six, the man she had come to know as Uncle George had been found dead this past week in his fishing boat anchored down near Holy Island.

  She noticed her stepmother, Sally, trying to hold back her tears as she looked over at the tall blonde woman who had come into her life six years ago during her first visit to this little lake town of Charlevoix, Michigan. Megan and her father had both fallen in love with Sally Thomason. His marriage to Sally had been held on the deck of their boat, the EmmaLee, a year later here on the waters of Lake Charlevoix. Sally had become a source of both strength and grounding for her and her father, helping them to always remember what is truly important in otherwise hectic lives; things like their new family unit and the bonds they had created together after so many tragic losses earlier in their lives.

  Next to Sally stood Elizabeth Hansen, George’s wife. Her face was pale and dark circles framed her moist eyes.

  “Ashes to ashes…” Megan heard the pastor’s words, but her mind was elsewhere thinking about her father.

  “Damn it, Lou!” shouted Alex Clark. “I told you this would be a disaster!” He slammed the phone down on the cradle and turned his chair to look out the window of his office, eighty floors above Park Avenue in New York. He looked north across the vast expanse of concrete and glass buildings rising up from the island of Manhattan. The green interruption of Central Park stood out in surprising contrast to the harsh edges and colors of the rest of the city.

  Alex took a deep breath to calm himself and struggled to keep his hand from shaking as he picked up a glass filled with more bourbon than ice. His brown hair was cropped close, a few random hints of gray beginning to reveal themselves. The once smooth features of his face were showing the strain of his years running some of the country’s most successful internet software companies. The conversation with his business partner, Louis Kramer, was like a sharp blade cutting deep into his chest. How could I have let it get this far?

  He reached for the cell phone on his desk. Pushing the number from his Recent list, he listened as the phone connection was made with the private terminal where he kept his plane at LaGuardia. He heard a young woman answer at the other end of the line, “Hello, Mr. Clark, how can we help you?”

  “Cancel the trip tonight. I’m not going to Charlevoix.”

  Megan and Sally walked slowly down the sidewalk toward town. The summer traffic was already backing up in both directions on Bridge Street in the little business district, a narrow street lined with small shops and restaurants. Trees had been planted along the sidewalk every few yards casting soft shadows from the early season leaves. The east side of the street had been cleared for a park for many years, opening up a spectacular view of the small inland harbor known as Round Lake.

  Megan saw the bright blue drawbridge up ahead, rising slowly to open the channel for boats to pass on the half hour, to and from Lake Michigan. Summer visitors and locals darted around the slow-moving traffic to make their way across the busy street and down through the town. She could see the big boats at the docks along Round Lake. Other boats cruised slowly across the calm waters, keeping their wakes to a minimum. Large flocks of gulls swept over the harbor and the slightest smell of fish and gasoline fumes from the boats drifted on the air. The EmmaLee rested at anchor out in the center of Round Lake. At almost 180 feet of waterline, it dwarfed the other boats in the harbor. Its graceful white hull was gleaming brilliantly in the afternoon sun.

  Megan had grown over the past few years into a tall and athletic body. She was a swimmer and gymnast
in high school and her arms and shoulders were strong and well developed. Her dark brown hair was straight and cut at shoulder length, held back with a scarf rolled and tied behind her ears. She had her father’s deep green eyes and the lines of her face were smooth and flowing. Dressed in a simple black dress, she had pinned an early blooming flower above her heart from the gardens up at Sally’s house on the bluff. All her life, she had heard how much she resembled her mother, particularly after she had passed away when Megan was only a young girl. She had only distant memories now of her mother and Sally had begun to fill that void in her life.

  As they walked along, Megan felt comfort in Sally’s arm around her shoulders. She turned and looked into her stepmother’s face and could see the swollen redness around her eyes from her tears and grief.

  Only two years past 50, Sally had kept trim with regular walks in the city and along the beach when they were in Charlevoix. Her face showed only the slightest hints of wrinkles along the corners of her eyes. At times, Megan wondered what their lives would have been like without Sally Thomason. What if her father hadn’t found the old ship and brought it home to Charlevoix, leading to the chance meeting with Sally, whose family had owned the grand ship, EmmaLee, so many years earlier? Sally had helped to bring them both back from the heavy sadness of the loss of Megan’s mother.

  Although she was only twelve at the time, Megan could remember their first meetings like it was yesterday. Sally had been a bright light that stood out in a crowd full of strangers they met that first summer and as the days of their visit went by, Megan felt a strong connection, not quite maternal, but warm and trusting. She had never called Sally, Mother; that was a space held in her heart for a woman she had loved so deeply and even a young school girl’s grief never fades completely, but Sally Thomason was, in so many ways, just as close and important in her life.

  “I know how much you loved Uncle George,” Megan said, putting her arm around Sally’s waist. “I’m so sorry he’s gone.”

  Sally didn’t answer for a moment. Then she sighed and spoke softly, “Isn’t this the saddest day. I feel so badly for Elizabeth. They’ve been together for so many years.”

  “I’m going to miss Uncle George this summer,” Megan said.

  They were across the street now from Sally’s old art gallery next to the bookstore and the coffee shop. Sally sold her interest in the business six years ago when she left Charlevoix to begin her new life with Alex and Megan Clark. Her former partner, Gwen Roberts, was at the funeral earlier and Megan watched as she and Sally held each other in a long embrace after the service. Gwen had pulled a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at the tears in Sally’s eyes.

  “It was nice to see Gwen today,” Megan said. “Do you want to stop into the gallery?”

  “No, I don’t think so honey, not today. Let’s get on down to the boat. I want to call your father and see when he’s coming in tonight.”

  “You know he really wanted to be here today, Sally.”

  “Yes, I know,” Sally answered, and Megan could sense the frustration in her voice. “I just can’t imagine what would be so important he couldn’t get away from the city for the service today.”

  “You know Daddy,” Megan said. “His business just keeps getting crazier.”

  Sally didn’t respond.

  Ahead on the sidewalk up above East Park along the docks, Megan saw a boy walking toward them. She first noticed the sharp features of his brown face, then the long black hair, nearly down to his shoulders, brushed straight back and blowing all about in the gentle afternoon breeze. He wore a loose-fitting white shirt, untucked over a faded pair of blue jeans. His feet were barely covered with faded green flip-flops and he walked with a comfortable and confident stride.

  Sally noticed who she was looking at. “You remember Will Truegood, don’t you?” she asked her stepdaughter.

  “That’s Will?” Megan answered.

  “Yes, he seems to have grown a bit since last summer,” said Sally.

  Megan felt suddenly nervous at the pending encounter. It was that irritating reminder she had yet to move beyond her adolescent shyness and awkward fumbling around meeting people. When you turn eighteen, aren’t you supposed to grow out of all this old nonsense? she thought. Megan saw a smile spread across his face as he spotted them. He came up and gave Sally a hug.

  “Hello, Mrs. Clark. I saw you earlier at the funeral, but I didn’t want to interrupt,” he said.

  Sally held him back at arm’s length. “Will, it’s so good to see you, and you have to start calling me Sally. I’m feeling old enough these days.”

  He nodded and then turned to Megan and reached out for her hand, holding it firmly. “Hi Megan, do you remember me?”

  Megan struggled for just a moment in answering. It bothered her that her hands felt cold and clammy. “Hi Will,” she finally said. “I didn’t recognize you at first. You’ve grown so much since last summer.”

  Will just smiled back at her. He turned to Sally. “I’m really sorry about Mr. Hansen. He was a very special man.”

  “Yes, he was, Will,” answered Sally.

  “You know, he’s been a friend of our family for so many years, even back to my great grandfather in the 40’s,” Will said.

  “How are your parents, Will?” Sally asked.

  “Oh, they’re fine. They live up in Mackinaw now. My dad’s working on a project for the State.”

  “The next time you talk with Jonas, you give him our best,” Sally said. “I can remember so many stories George and my father told me about your dad and his big brother Samuel.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said.

  “What have you been doing, Will?” asked Sally.

  “I just finished up my first year down at Michigan State. I’m working on my degree in Fisheries Biology,” he said. “I’m off for the summer and staying out at the family’s old cabin on Horton Creek.”

  “How do you like college?” Megan asked, thinking about her own plans for the fall and the uncertainty of it all.

  “It’s really a blast. I’m thinking seriously about the Masters program,” he said and then he paused, looking at Megan. “You know, I’m not the only one who’s grown a bit since last year.”

  Megan felt the warm prickles of a blush spread out across her face as she watched him smile back at her. She wasn’t quite sure how to answer and couldn’t seem to come up with anything appropriate to say.

  “Will, it was nice to see you, unfortunately on such a sad day,” Sally said, breaking the awkward silence.

  “Thank you, Sally. Megan, it was nice to see you again. Are you up for the summer?”

  “Yes, my dad had the crew bring the boat out last week and we’re going to be up for most of the summer…maybe take a few short cruises when my dad can get away.”

  “Hey, that’s great,” he answered. He paused for a moment, seeming to think about what he was about to say. “Do you still like to fish?” he asked, looking directly into Megan’s eyes without blinking. “You’ll have to come out to our cabin. The trout are really fishing well so far this year.”

  “The trout?” she asked, wondering if he was asking her out on a fishing date.

  “Yeah, some nice rainbows,” Will said. “I’ll give you a call and see if you can come out.”

  Sally jumped in and said, “That would be nice of you, Will. It was good to see you.”

  He nodded quickly and then walked past the women, moving on down the sidewalk away from the park.

  Sally reached around Megan’s waist and pulled her close. “Looks like my daughter has already got the summer off to an interesting start.” She laughed for the first time that day as they started down through the park to the launch that would take them out to the EmmaLee.

  Alex Clark sat facing the senior partner from his law firm across his expansive desk, anxiously tapping a pencil on the smooth mahogany finish. His office was mostly windows, floor to ceiling, looking out over the city. What little wall space still av
ailable was filled with pictures of family and boats.

  Anna Bataglia was dressed almost too casually in jeans and a sleeveless light blue blouse and wore thin leather sandals over bare feet. She had been on vacation out at her beach house on Long Island and had only come into the city at Alex’s urgent pleading. Her long black hair was pulled back and held with a thin white ribbon, soft curls cascading down her back. Her Italian heritage was evident in the classic features of her face and soft brown eyes that looked back at her client. Slight wrinkles that appeared when she smiled betrayed the years and the stress of her profession. She sat confidently in the plush leather chair, her legs crossed and a glass of red wine in her hand.

  “Alex, you need to be completely straight with me,” she said. “Is there anything else I need to know besides Louis pulling this bullshit with your CFO and your earnings reports and stock options? The SEC is going to have all your asses in a sling and I’m not talking about a slap on the wrist. There is no tolerance these days for any of this nonsense. Not only will your reputation be ruined, you could do time and the financial penalties will be significant.”

  “Thanks for those comforting thoughts, counselor,” Alex said. He stood and walked over to the window, looking out across the city. “As I’ve told you, several months ago, I noticed a number of things that didn’t add up in the financial reporting to the Street. I met with Lou and our CFO, Littlefair, and was reassured with some very credible documentation that the numbers were valid. The whole stock option thing, I haven’t a clue.” He turned back to look at Anna. “You need to realize I have never been a numbers guy… sales, marketing, product development is what I do. I hire people to keep the books.”

  “The little evidence I’ve been able to see so far from the Attorney General’s office is pretty damn incriminating,” Anna said. “Inflated earnings forecasts and very questionable internal accounting across subsidiaries, and possibly back-dating stock options to the benefit of management.” Anna put her wine glass on the desk. “I know you and Louis Kramer have had a lot of success as business partners in the past. Have you had any reason to doubt his integrity?”