Finally, they turned again on a country road. Goldie knew the roads, but thirty years was a long time. And it was dark, darker than L.A. ever got, even at midnight. There were always lights in L.A.
“Does it look the same?”
“Exactly. Though, there is still tornado damage. A lot of people picked up and left after that.”
Goldie wasn’t quite a townie—J.J. was the only true Irish Hills resident back in their day—but she was close. Goldie grew up in Tecumseh, Michigan. Her family owned a grand Victorian home on Chicago Boulevard. But they also owned a string of rental cottages on Lake Manitou. At the height of her parents’ rental business, they owned eight on Cedar Point Beach.
The Libby family were founding homeowners in the area, butso were the Goulds. Goldie’s grandparents had the foresight to buy a stretch of beach and construct a row of small cottages. They all had names. There were The Poplars, The Sunnynook, The Cedars, and The Hickories. Goldie tried to remember all eight names, but they didn’t come to her right then. Each cottage layout was the same: two bedrooms, one bathroom, an efficiency-style kitchen, and a back porch. That was it, but that was all that was needed for a vacation on the lake. The Gould family stayed in one each summer and managed the rest for renters. Sometimes they’d hop from week to week to whatever cottage was open.
While the Libbys came to live, the Goulds came to manage the rentals. Goldie spent most summer mornings doing whatever her dad said needed to be done for the cottage guests. And then he’d let her run wild for the rest of the day.
Every summer.
The cottages had been severely damaged in the tornado. Goldie thought back to that day when her dad explained how it was more financially prudent to get the insurance money and cash out.
And that was it. No more Lake Manitou summers. Though, to be honest. Goldie wasn’t interested in being here or in Tecumseh or the Midwest by the time she was seventeen.
She knew she was headed for Hollywood by the time she was in first grade.
She was ready to go find her fame before her high school cap hit the ground at graduation. She was in such a hurry. Now, all she wanted was to slow things down a bit.
Libby insisted that Goldie stay with her at Nora House, owing to the late hour.
“I’m not dropping you off at the hotel in the middle of the night,” Libby insisted. “But if you’re up to it, I’ll drive past it on the way.”
Despite the hour, Goldie was awake. She had a lot to think about. Plans to make. But one thing was certain: she’d be hiddenhere. No one would suspect she’d high-tailed it from the Chateau Marmont to the middle of nowhere Midwest.
“It’s just up there,” Libby said.
Goldie pictured what all this looked like in daylight, but it was a thirty-year-old memory. Who knew what it looked like now, in what state?
“What do you remember about the big hotel?”
“Ice cream socials there? We also used to get renters to ask about it. I remember that. They’d go over to the slide. There was a big yard, beach, and shuffleboard, right?”
“You got it. Two Lakes Grove Hotel is no Chateau Marmont, but she’s a grand dame! She could use someone like you who has a history here.”
Goldie ignored the sales pitch. She wanted a hideout not to turn into Bob Newhart. What was that show where he had a hotel? Goldie’s mind always reverted to TV and movies.
They drove off the main road and onto an offshoot that led to the hotel.
Despite the hour, the moonlight did its job. It reflected off the inky lake and gave a glow to the building Libby pointed out.
The hotel was there, it had to be one of the biggest structures on the lake, bigger even than Libby’s Nora House, but Goldie remembered it as summery and elegant. She had no way to tell now, as they rolled up in the middle of the night.
Libby slowed down. Goldie could make out the outline of Two Lakes. She had an urge to get out, walk the huge lake-facing porch, explore the rooms, and just get lost in something that wasn’t her career drama.
But Libby was right. It was night. They’d traveled a long way since the morning when her agent stabbed her in the back.
“I’m excited to get in there and explore.” And she was. A hotel all to herself, with no fanboys or people trying to get pictures of her looking old in her swimsuit.
“You’ll have total anonymity. Not a soul would suspect the world’s biggest movie star was holed up at Two Lakes Grove.”
“That sounds like Grey Gardens.”
“Nonsense, you’ll add life, not haunt it.”
They turned from the road to a private drive and drove a mile. They didn’t encounter another single vehicle.
