A Lakeside Reunion

Book 1: Shores of Dora

by C. Chilove

Genres: Women's Fiction; African American Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

This summer, escape to the Shores­--a Southern lake town full of elegance and glamour in a story about family traditions, friendship, and a love that can’t be denied.

Chareese “Reese” Devlin spent every summer of her childhood in the lake town of Mount Dora, Florida, where her days were filled with fun in the sun. Reese never realized that the idyllic haven hid a deep divide between the town’s haves and have-nots. Not until the summer she turned seventeen and fell for Duncan McNeal, a boy who lacked the pedigree so valued by her parents and their equally well-connected friends.

After her family squashed the budding romance, Reese refused to return to the place she lost her heart. Now, ten years later, she’s back to attend her sister’s debutante ball and must come to terms with all she’s missed. But the biggest surprise of all is that Duncan is now a successful real estate developer in Mount Dora—and time hasn’t weakened the connection between them.

Behind the multimillion-dollar homes of the Shores lay old grudges and secrets capable of collapsing any family legacy. As the summer progresses, Reese must fix the sins of the past by facing the lines between truth and deception, tradition and breaking free, and family expectations and self-discovery.

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 384

Sample

One

Chareese Devlin glanced up at the old bed and breakfast that had been in her family for generations. She’d spent the better part of her adult life pretending Hill House didn’t exist because it seemed easier to forget. So why was it her first stop after passing the town welcome sign for Mount Dora? She hadn’t worked through the answer to that question yet.

Perhaps she never would. Only, she couldn’t deny how looking upon the place that held many of her childhood memories had quieted inner deliberations of life, love, and career woes.

A sigh escaped her as she turned her attention away from the top of the hill and headed back to her rental car. She slid into the convertible and pressed the button to let the top down. For a second, she considered tying the pink scarf peeking out of her purse around her hair, but then decided to just be wild and free. This would be the only time she could let go on her summer vacation because she knew that for the next month her life would be full of the restrictions and expectations she had shunned. She swallowed the bitter taste she associated with the Shores and locked her emotions away as the engine roared to life.

The warm, humid breeze licked her skin, and she pressed the gas as she rode the curves along the old highway. The view of the sun shining down, creating a sparkle effect onto Lake Dora, was spectacular, perfect…everything she remembered. Her gaze shifted to the houses neatly tucked among the hills as she sniffed the blooming magnolia trees, and for the first time in ten years she missed the place she vowed never to return to.

Never had been rigged. A daydream severed by a mother who remained caught up in the old guard and appearances. Hence, the Lakeside Debutante Ball she would attend to officially watch her sister, Alexandria, debut into society—just as she and four generations of the women in her family had.

Chareese shrugged off the encroaching pressure and turned the music up in the car. She had less than seven minutes before she turned into the driveway of her parents’ summer estate. This was her last time to enjoy the vacancy of not having to battle against the mental games of which her mother reigned as queen for the next month.

The ringtone of her mobile blared from the passenger seat. She eased off the gas, hesitant to answer in case it was a work call. After seeing the number belonged to her longtime friend Carrah Andrews, she quickly tapped the hands-free button on the steering wheel.

“Are you here yet?” Carrah giggled into the line. “I’ve waited for a summer like this forever, Reese.”

“Almost to my parents’ house. Pray for me.” She chuckled.

“Does Genevieve Devlin not know about your haircut? Or is she still upset that you haven’t accepted the promotion to fashion art director?”

“I’m sure those are both reasons for her to find fault as normal. But, before being offered the promotion, I was told I have the ‘look’ corporate likes. That comment still doesn’t sit well with me, and my mother believes I need to get over it. Except, I can’t. I’m more than just a look. What about my work, innovation, and the Ivy League education she paid for that got me here?” Reese let out a long sigh while turning onto Lakeshore Drive, the only street that meant something in the Shores of Dora because it signified a family’s wealth, power, and prestige in the South. “Don’t mind my rant. I’m certain she’s more concerned with us making it on time to some cocktail party this evening than lecturing me on my career decisions. You know my mother does not believe in being fashionably late.”

Carrah let out a hearty laugh, which forced Reese into one as well. “Good luck, and by the way, it isn’t just some cocktail party. Judge and Mrs. Caldwell are hosting this evening. Everyone will be there.” Reese pressed her lips together tight. She knew not everyone would be at the judge’s house. The circle was small, select, and unfriendly to outsiders. “Oh, I almost forgot. I received an invitation to Gavin’s Back to the Shores party tomorrow night. Said he wanted to take it back to when we were kids. It’s an old-school nineties theme at the roller rink, and I want you to go with me.”

“I didn’t get an invite.”

“Reese, the last time you came here for the summer we were seventeen. No one expected you to come back to the Shores. I would’ve been surprised too, except I knew Alexandria was making her debut, since my mom is the committee chair. You had to come. It’s tradition, and we both know how our families are when it comes to tradition.”

Reese held her tongue. Tradition had shown the ugliest side of her family. The beautiful French country estate coming into view hid their ways well. It was the prettiest container for the uppity Black elite who refused to be stained by those not like them.

“Well, I just pulled up. And you know it would be unladylike of me to enter the house jabbering on the phone. I’ll see you at the judge’s house tonight.”

After ending the call and gathering her belongings, Reese entered her family home. The sweet smell of butter mixed with vanilla and maybe a dash of lime wafted to her senses. Her stomach growled, and she dropped her bags before proceeding into the kitchen. A smile stretched across her face upon seeing the golden goodness displayed in the center of the kitchen island. The warmth radiating from the key lime pound cake let her know it hadn’t been long since it came out of the oven and that her mother was somewhere in the house.

Resisting a slice of her favorite sweet treat, Reese set out to find her parents and sister. Surprisingly, she was pleased to see that not much had changed in their summer home except for new curtains in the parlor. She passed her father’s study, which was empty, yet she could tell by the lingering odor that he had recently enjoyed a cigar. Just as she was about to venture to her parents’ bedroom, muffled voices came from upstairs. She quickly took the steps two by two, feeling winded once she reached the top, and continued down the hall toward her sister’s room.

“Chin up.” Reese slowed when she heard her mother’s stern voice. “Relax your shoulders and smile. A debutante must always present herself, Alexandria.”

“Wow, I think I heard that same line ten years ago.” Reese stepped into the doorway of her sister’s room.

“Reese!” Alex jumped into her sister’s arms. “How was Paris? OMG, I can’t believe you came.” She squeezed Reese tighter. “I know how much you hate the Shores.”

Technically, Reese didn’t hate the Shores. She hated the reality of how it dictated her life because some families were thought of as better, and how years of generational bias determined relationships, connections, and who you were allowed to love.

“I wouldn’t miss your debut, Alex,” she said, looking down into her sister’s dark brown eyes. The same eyes she saw in the mirror every day. She hugged Alex tight, her way of saying sorry for bailing out on family summers, and wishing their relationship was stronger.

“Alexandria,” their mother corrected her. “Now isn’t the time for pet names, Chareese. I too am pleased that you found time to visit with us this summer and attend the ball. Most past debutantes flock in annually to show their support and respect for the traditions that set us apart from the rest—not to mention nourishing connections we’ve forged over the years with other families.” Genevieve Devlin tossed a dress on Alex’s bed and then turned to peck Reese on each cheek.

“Oh my goodness…you cut your hair!” Genevieve’s hands grabbed Reese by the shoulders and turned her around in slow motion.

Record time for the oh shit moment. Reese would deal with it. She’d had plenty of practice. Besides, this was one time her mother wouldn’t make her feel bad. For the last few months she had been struggling to find herself. The long hair she’d worn for years was her mother’s look, not hers. The bob cut she now rocked seemed more of who she was…or rather who she wanted to be. It was chic, pretty, and still long enough to be tucked behind her ears. Nothing like the close cut her mother’s reaction exaggerated it to be.

“It’s so wild.” Her mother’s thin fingers began raking her hair. “Did you bother to comb it this morning?”

Reese cleared her throat. She was hyperaware of her mother’s hesitation to embrace the woman she had become and refused to show how much her disappointment still stung. One day she would please her. “I let the top down on my rental. The plane had been so stuffy.”

“Humph, I see.” Her mother stood back, continuing her analysis. Reese did the same, admiring her mother’s rich, golden-brown skin, jet-black hair, and stunning features that had crowned her Miss Florida and landed her in Jet magazine as a Beauty of the Week once upon a time.

In the looks department, Reese and her mother were near twins. Beyond appearances they were like oil and water.

“Well”—her mother’s cheeks filled—“I like the hair.” Both Reese’s and Alex’s jaws dropped to the floor. Surprise was an understatement since their mother believed hair was a woman’s crowning glory. A lighthearted chuckle that Reese had not heard in a long time escaped Genevieve. “Come here, both of you.” Her mother’s arms wrapped around them. “I finally have both my girls home for the summer.”

“Mother, you act as if I never come home. I saw you in March.”

“You haven’t been here, to our summer home, in ages. There was always a class, an internship, a promotion. Now, when everyone asks your father or me about you, we can say you’re here.” She kissed Reese’s forehead.

“Speaking of Dad, where is he?”

“There was an emergency at city hall with your uncle Quincy and Hill House.” She sighed. “Things have been tense between your father and uncle the last few months due to operational issues with the inn. Not to mention the money that must be spent to bring the house up to code. The city is particular about the downtown district and Quincy…well, the house needs some work. Quincy isn’t your grandmother, and you know how your dad is about the family business. Especially since that bed and breakfast gave his family everything.”

Reese nodded, accepting why her dad wasn’t home like he said he would be. Something serious had to be happening, because Kent Devlin always attended every recital, graduation, promotion party, and anything else in between.

She then wondered about Hill House. She hadn’t been brave enough earlier to pull onto the property, so she’d acted like the tourists who came into town and admired it from afar. The bed and breakfast had been in their family for over a hundred years, and like her father, she had spent time at Hill House learning the family business. She remembered her grandmother teaching her to bake oatmeal raisin cookies for guests, and meeting famous Black politicians and celebrities clad in designer digs that sparked her interest in fashion and design. Except, if she was honest, for the last few months she often found herself reimagining the latest designer printed fabrics on chairs and windows instead of people.

“Hate to break up this little reunion, but we need to get ready or we are going to be late for the five to seven.” Alex grabbed the dress her mother had laid across the bed.

“Are you serious, Mom? Y’all still call it that? Most people would simply say cocktail hour.”

“We are not most people.” Genevieve stuck her nose up into the air. “The la cinq à septs are how all of us reconnect once we arrive for the summer. We’ve built businesses, friendships, and relationships with these people who have been in our sphere for decades.”

Reese began moving from the room. She wasn’t about to start with her mother on the parties her friends threw that were only meant to exclude while reveling in the gossip of well-to-do Black folks.

Genevieve rushed from the room, tugging Reese along. “We’ve got less than an hour to be ready before your father gets here to pick us up.” Her mom paused in the hallway. “Dress to kill, Chareese. It’s been a long time. You know they will be watching. Let’s give them something to talk about.”

Two

Time had not changed tradition in the Shores. Reese didn’t like experiencing the emotions she’d dealt with as a teenager: antsy, anxious, and dreading an evening that on the surface appeared to be full of rekindling of old friendships but was really full of inspection that led to criticism. Make no mistake, the annual evening soiree at the Caldwells’ was where you learned the good, bad, and ugly of the Southern elite. By the end of the night, it was known who was graduating, divorcing, engaged, or making major career moves…and all that gossip was heavily discussed like a scandalous article in the newspaper until everyone left town. Reese knew her return would become a hot topic.

Too bad I didn’t find a way out, Reese thought to herself as she sat in the back seat of the chauffeured car across from her mother, who wore a dress made for the red carpet. Reese didn’t miss the way her mother scanned her with approving eyes. While flattered, it reminded Reese of why she had avoided ten years of scrutiny. She didn’t miss summer after summer of being dolled up before climbing into her dad’s fanciest car to make their way to Judge and Mrs. Caldwell’s estate.

Reese shrugged off unasked-for thoughts and decided to recall happier times in the Shores. There were sundae parties at Miss Mabel’s ice cream parlor, nights at the roller rink, picnics after church, and fireworks over the lake on the Fourth of July. A small smile curved her lips as she thought back to those times when friendships mattered. She also recalled how when her grandmother was alive she made the sweetest strawberry shortcake to eat while watching the evening sky light up on the Fourth.

Back then, as she watched colors burst in the air and fall over the water, she had no idea that the people her parents called friends held influence over her life and who she loved. It wasn’t until one night long ago, when they traveled along the road that they were on now, making their way to the Caldwells’ annual soiree, that her father began explaining the rules.

Kent Devlin had started by asking if she had heard of Madam C. J. Walker. Of course she had. Black history was three-sixty-five and always woven into the historical thrust of Jack and Jill activities. After all, Jack and Jill was the gathering place for Black children of affluent families who wanted their children to remember where they came from while exceeding societal expectations and becoming future leaders. And yet, at age ten, Reese didn’t know that when Madam C. J. purchased her New York mansion in 1917, the New York Times wrote, “No woman of her race could afford such a place.”

She now knew that her father’s question was not impromptu. If he had made it home in time to leave with them, he may have very well reminded her that a public show of wealth garnered too much, and not so good, attention. For Madam C. J., that was exactly what happened. Therefore, it became the first rule she’d learned of the Black elite, a social stratosphere she straddled but was born into and was expected to uphold. Sentiments that were expressed in that old article died hard, especially in the South. Fear of what happened in the nineteenth century to Daniel Murray and the original Black elite taunted her parents and other prominent families who were determined to keep their status. They never wanted to endure the nightmare of one day being held in high regard and the next deemed as a second-class citizen.

“How long will we be here tonight?” Reese turned away from her mother and gazed out the window as the chauffeur turned down the long cobblestone drive lined with ancient oaks that Judge and Mrs. Caldwell used to hide their palatial estate from passersby.

Only friends knew how people in the old guard moved. Invitation-only events were strictly enforced. Although, Reese often rejected hers. And like the Caldwells’ mansion was removed from public view, she’d retreated from this life because it had taken everything she ever wanted.

“Why, Chareese? It’s not as if you have anything else planned. You’ve been absent from this scene a while now and invitations for you come few and far between.” Her mother cleared her throat. “You need to mingle and show your face. Our friends ask about you often. You know it’s hard for my crowd to keep up on social media. That’s for you young folks.”

A small smile curved her mother’s shiny red lips. “I also hear that Reginald, Christopher, and Gavin will be present this evening. They are all single and have done very well for themselves. It would be best for you to become reacquainted.”

Reese recoiled. This wasn’t the time for her mother to rehash the matchmaking schemes Reese and all her friends had been subjected to when they were prepping for prom or debut. The boys, now men, her mother spoke of were friends that she still shared her life with via social media. There was no need to reacquaint. “Not interested. Reggie, Chris, and Gav are like my brothers. We’ve played since we could walk…Here every summer learning to canoe and climb trees. I don’t see them in that way, Mother. You know that.”

“Perhaps you should. Friends can make the best lovers, darling.” Her mother blew out a long, exasperated breath. “It’s always a debate with you, Chareese, and they are exhausting. Just know by the time I was your age, I was married.”

Reese fixed her mouth to respond but was nudged hard by Alex. Thankfully, the car finally stopped in front of the thirty-five-room lakefront mansion. Everyone knew the property had not been obtained or maintained on a judge’s salary. It came from generations of wealth. The Caldwells had been farmers of sugar cane and made a living growing and harvesting the crop on their land. They were still one of Florida’s leading producers.

“Gavin Lancaster is a chocolate dream, and so is his brother, Xavier. You don’t know how crazy you sound, sis,” Alex piped in as she checked her lipstick in the mirror one last time before sliding to the open door. Reese shrugged and exited behind her sister. She didn’t do playboys, which both Gavin and Chris unapologetically were. “And everyone has been vying for Chris’s affections since he got all big-time with his celebrity clients and opened a West Coast office for his firm. They are both indeed suitable matches as our parents would say.”

The sisters chuckled, watching as their mother stepped from the car in her full regalia. This might be a party hosted by Sissy Caldwell, but Genevieve Devlin always managed to become the center of attention.

“Hush you two. We are about to go inside. Remember, if they ask about your father or uncle, simply offer regrets and let them know unexpected business pulled them away for the evening.”

Her mother led the way up the steps and through the doorway where an oversized crystal chandelier greeted the trio upon entry into the foyer. Standing just under it was Zuri, the Caldwells’ oldest daughter. Zuri was three years older than Reese, and was a pretty, curvy girl with long copper-colored hair that appeared as though it had just been curled with marcels. Her ebony skin had always been in such contrast to Judge Caldwell’s that some ignorant people whispered she wasn’t his daughter. Yet, with even a little study, anyone would see that Zuri had her father’s keen nose, hazel eyes, and plus-sized stature.

“Hi, Zuri!” Reese leaned in, accepting her old friend’s embrace. “Your dress is beautiful, and so are you.”

“You just made my night. That’s a big compliment considering it came from one of the fashion industry’s movers and shakers. Mom and I saw the write-up of you in Exposé Mag. Everyone is so proud of you.”

Reese knew the smile she forced didn’t reach her eyes. She hoped it didn’t appear fake as she stood back admiring the dolman sleeve drape dress that flattered Zuri’s full figure. Maybe not the shade of orange she’d have selected; however, it was exactly the style she would drape the socialite in. Most intriguing was that the dress was by one of the hottest new designers Reese was eager to feature in Haute, the magazine she busted her ass for and where she was still considering a promotion to art director.

When word got out that Haute wanted to name her art director, the fashion world went crazy. It was the reason Exposé came after her for an interview. Only, she’d made it clear to the lifestyle magazine that the topic was off-limits for the write-up. The circumstances surrounding her position at Haute were still a sore subject, and she didn’t care for public opinion on the direction of her career. Reese knew she never wanted to be given something because she had a palatable look for corporate America. Nor because she’d socialized in the right circles thanks to her debutante pedigree.

Reese wanted her advancement to be a reflection of her work, but the comments uttered as the promotion was being offered made her second-guess her contribution to the magazine and her career path. Never mind that lately her creative juices often floated from denim and red bottoms on a model to crushed velvet and lace on a queen-sized bed. “Thanks, Zuri, that means a lot.”

An awkward moment of silence fell over them before finally Zuri blurted, “How’d they get you back?”

They both chuckled. It was a fair question. Only her parents and Carrah knew why she had been a ghost in the Shores, and it would stay that way. Luckily, she managed to slip out of the dark shadow the question cast and gestured to Alex. “My baby sister accepted her invitation to debut this summer. I couldn’t miss it.”

“Enjoy it”—Zuri tugged Alex into a strong hold—“I know I did…and so did you, Reese. I remember attending your debut. It was all the rage with you, Carrah, Quinn, and Ava debuting at once.”

Reese forced a smile. Every single person’s recollection of that night was different. If her parents told the story they would say it was the night she almost ruined the Devlin legacy. Her deceased grandmother would remind Reese that she had been two steps shy of being disowned. And…she used to wonder what Duncan thought. But now wasn’t the time for that. “Speaking of Carrah and Quinn, have you seen them? I know Ava hasn’t arrived in town yet.”

“I’ve seen Carrah, she arrived a little while ago.” Zuri pointed to the other side of the grand staircase behind her. “You know she likes to hang around the parlor until the guys give her a seat at the card table.”

Reese thanked Zuri, watched Alex join a friend, then took a deep breath and ducked through the crowd. She had to escape even if it was only for a minute. Over the years she often wondered how people didn’t see the turmoil she wore that night. Her debut had been the beginning of the misery she kept bottled inside.

Duncan…

She pushed another unwanted thought of him away. For ten years she had left him and everything in the Shores locked away. She could do it again tonight.

“Chareese Antoinette Devlin.” Reese’s steps halted before she rolled her eyes and turned to see her old friend. She loved the big, bouncy body curls Quinn rocked as she strutted toward her like the models Reese put on the runway.

“Why are you using my whole government name, Quinlyn Marie Hightower?” Reese giggled as Quinn shushed her.

“I can only imagine the eye roll you gave.” The two shared a long, tight hug before Quinn hooked her well-toned, brown arm in Reese’s. “Still short.”

Reese smacked her teeth. “Tell me again why tall people like you wear heels? You’re a giant.”

Quinn threw her head back in laughter. “Gawd, I’ve missed you here. Come on, we’ve been waiting for you. Carrah’s in the parlor starting stuff. She managed to get on the spades table and is giving Reggie hell.”

Hearty, full-bellied laughter escaped them as they scrambled down the hall like they used to when there was a secret to share. It was just like old times and in that moment, Reese missed the camaraderie and comfort she’d experienced during the summers spent with people she’d known all her life.

To be fair, Reese’s absence over the last ten summers in the Shores did not make the friendships she’d forged with Carrah, Quinn, Ava, and others null. They all kept in touch; even if it was a quick text or a social like as they led busy lives in high-profile jobs. But it was different, almost disconnected. The bond they shared during the summers was unmatched. They had been like sisters, inseparable, and maybe one day she would forgive herself for diminishing that connection. Maybe this summer could restore it.

Reese and Quinn stopped outside the double oak doors of the Caldwells’ parlor. Hearing the trash-talking mixed with laughter from the other side gave Reese a bit of a buzz. She giggled, turning the glass knob and pushing it open, knowing she would see Carrah in action. In true form, her petite, honey-skinned friend stood slamming a card down on the t. . .