She started having fantasies of escaping to some sunny, sandy island without her husband and children. She knew that would never happen but Lou was thirty-nine and it had been a long time since a man paid attention to her. And this wasn’t just any man—he was sexy, handsome, rich, educated, sophisticated.

She didn’t ask herself why a man with these exclusive properties all over the world would want to spend a couple of weeks at a stranger’s lake house. It was a nice lake house. But it was a family house! Full of children.

Then there was Corky. She was stingy with her words and only said things like, “Perfect day for a tan,” or “Such a cute sundress.” And she drank a lot. She was passed out early every night and very slow to rise every morning.

“Where’d you find her?” Lou asked Ivan.

“Poor thing was left stranded by a fellow I know so I’ve been looking after her for a while. I know her family. I’ve partnered with them on investments a time or two. I’m going to ship her home to her brother once I hear he’s back in the country.”

“Why would you look after her if she isn’t your girlfriend?” Lou asked.

“Because I’m a very decent guy,” he said with that beautiful smile.

“You should ship her to treatment,” Lou said.

“Has a bit of a problem with that, I’m afraid,” he said kindly.

That was the thing about Ivan; he never slipped. He never contradicted himself or acted in a rude or capricious manner.

Lou was smitten.

She might have fantasies about lovers and islands and getaways but she was not out of reality. She knew better. Carl managed their money and he kept his fist tightly around it. He did well with it, too—Lou and Carl lived comfortably.

But when Carl called to say he couldn’t come for the weekend again, Lou almost broke out the champagne. She was being thoroughly seduced and enjoying every second of it.

* * *

“It was that second week,” Lou said. “It was only the second week! And I realized later, that was when I gave him so much information. ‘What’s a house go for in your part of Minnesota, darling?’ he asked me. And I told him what we paid for ours and what it was worth and he said, ‘But that’s splendid! What about a cabin like this?’ And I gave him my best guess. He asked about Carl’s company and if he was happy because that was the most important thing, that a man be fulfilled! And I told him I had no idea. Carl never seemed particularly happy to me. He seemed worn down by work. And Ivan said that was a tragedy. For me as well as Carl.”

By the time they got to this last chapter, they were propped up in Lou’s king-size bed, pillows behind them, more Jack Daniel’s in their dainty little teacups.

“It was all so lovely,” Lou was saying. “Like visiting a posh vacation spot. Every day he would pull some treat out of that Lincoln. Filets for dinner, Bloody Marys in the morning, wine coolers in the afternoon.”

“He made the most delicious and rich stuffed mushrooms—a chef in France showed him how,” Jo said.

“I haven’t been able to eat a stuffed mushroom since,” Lou said.

“He gave us bracelets he bought in Mexico.”

“A wrap from Spain...”

“By the third week we were putty in his hands...”

Corky, always a bit tipsy, had opened up—Ivan was a friend of her brother and father. Ivan was her protector, almost like a guardian, and when she was dumped by a man, left with only a suitcase, not a dime, heart in tatters and her family out of the country, no help in sight, Ivan took charge. He said, Don’t worry, darling. I’ll look after you until your brother is back. It’s no bother.

“Really, no bother at all,” Jo said.

And where were the children during this party atmosphere? They were about—checking in, looking for food, wanting someone to watch them in the lake, asking to take out the rowboat. Jo and Lou were experienced mothers and, even with the distraction of Ivan, they checked on the kids, counted heads, kept track. The girls were safe at the lake, as long as they had boundaries and lifeguards, though every one of them swam like a fish. Carl called to check on Lou and the kids but as long as there was such a houseful, he said he had plenty to occupy him in the city—his company was demanding of his time. Not unusual for Carl the past few years. He seemed not to take note that it was so exceptional to have guests at the lake and strangers at that. He promised to be down the next weekend.

One weekend too late.

Chapter Thirteen

Louise, the most practical and least romantic of the two Berkey sisters, was experiencing a change in perspective. Ivan’s allure was quickly capturing her. She confided in Jo that the idea of being with him was unbearably tempting and she wasn’t sure how long she could fight it. It had been so long! Carl was not the most romantic of husbands. Maybe she could find a way to take a brief trip. Carl never denied her anything, and if she said she had a desperate desire to take a break in midwinter and do a little shopping in Miami, he might just go along with it to keep the peace.

“Don’t lose your mind,” Jo said. “I know you’re having a struggle right now and it seems perfectly logical in your mind, but it wouldn’t be worth risking your marriage, your family.”

She was simply so turned on she wasn’t sure she could stop herself. Ivan had stolen a few nuzzles here and there, his lips briefly on her neck, a brief touch now and then. And what was the danger? Wasn’t he just the most wonderful gentleman? Look how he cared for Corky, who was a mess.

“I thought they were staying for a couple of weeks,” Jo said to Lou one day. “They’ve been here almost three weeks!”

“So? Are they in the way? Are they intruding? Not really. Besides, Ivan brings food and flowers and gifts constantly. We’ve never been so pampered.”

Jo watched her sister, so unsentimental, so immune to emotional displays, being stung and becoming a featherhead. She realized this was how she’d looked to Lou all these years that she couldn’t be sensible where Roy was concerned. She was constantly falling for his charm, believing his lies and, worst of all, lying to herself.

“The way Ivan and Corky drink, you want to get mixed up with that? After seeing what I’ve gone through with Roy’s out-of-control drinking?”

“Well, clearly Ivan can handle it even if Corky can’t,” Lou said. “It hasn’t stopped him getting rich, has it?”

“What if he’s not really rich?” Jo asked. “Maybe he’s just a braggart. Big talker like Roy!”

Lou leaned close and whispered, “I peeked at his checkbook. Tons of money. He said if I want to meet him somewhere, he’ll pay for everything.”

Jo wanted to ask if they’d had sex yet but she knew it was unlikely—they were almost never alone together. But it was coming, she knew. Desperate and fearing she might lose her sister, she watched vigilantly. For the first time she noticed the way Ivan and Corky looked at each other. Once in a while they exchanged very brief, meaningful glances or a few whispered words. He would tell Jo and Lou he was running to town to look around and then on his way to his car he’d whisper a few words to Corky. One early evening when the kids had dispersed, the little ones to the loft and the oldest to the beach parties with the lodge waiters and waitresses across the lake, Ivan said he was going off to take a shower before a nightcap by the outdoor fire. Lou decided it was a good time for her to dash into the shower in the master bedroom. That left Jo in the house and Corky in her lawn chair outdoors beside the ashtray.

Jo sat at the breakfast bar, paging through a magazine, watching. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed anything odd before. Corky waited just a couple of minutes and then crossed the yard to the boathouse. She’d followed Ivan to the boathouse before. She was something of a pest; she wasn’t enjoying the lake house as much as Ivan was and would rather have been at some resort.

Jo crept down to the boathouse and went underneath, where the boat and some supplies were kept. The finished room was on the second floor, up a flight of outdoor stairs. When you stayed up there you could hear the water lapping against the dock all through the night. And when you were hiding where the boat sat, you could hear the voices of anyone inside.

She didn’t hear voices. She heard a soft thumping. Squinting into the darkness, straining to hear, she thought there was heavy breathing. She frowned. Then came the moans. A couple of hard grunts. And the inevitable giggle. She heard Ivan’s voice: “Jesus, you’re crazy. We don’t want to throw this whole thing for a fuck.”

“You like me crazy,” Corky said. “Oh, baby, how long do we have to stay here?”

“A few more days, I think. I’ve almost got her. She’s ready to be plucked.”

“Do that to her and she’ll cash in her entire inheritance,” Corky said. “Oh, Ivan, I want you back.”

“A couple more days is good for a couple hundred thousand. Now get out of here before someone notices. Go get drunk and stay out of sight so I can work my magic.”

“Ohhh,” she groaned. “I just got here! You can make up something. Tell them what a complainer I am! Tell them you had to calm me down!”

“You have the ‘I’ve just had sex’ look all over your face,” he said. “If things are quiet later, come back after everyone’s asleep. I feel like something real dirty.”

“I can do that,” she said with a laugh.

Ivan, Jo noticed, had no accent. The sick feelings that spiraled through her were manic. She crept out of the boathouse in time to see Corky disappearing into the house. Jo then walked up the boathouse stairs to the bedroom loft and opened the door.

Ivan turned while still fastening his belt, grinning at her. “Well, my little chicken, you could have caught me just stepping out of the shower.” He laughed lightly, unconcerned.

“Did Corky catch you just getting out of the shower?” she asked.

“No, thank goodness, but it was close. At least I had my pants on.”