The Summer Cottage

Book 1: Somerset Lake

by Annie Rains

Genres: Sagas; Small Town & Rural; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

This summer, they’ll learn that home is where the heart is. Somerset Lake is the perfect place for Trisha Langly and her son to start over. As the new manager for the Somerset Cottages, Trisha is instantly charmed by the property’s elderly residents and her firecracker of a new boss, Vi Fletcher. But Trisha is less enchanted by Vi’s protective grandson Jake. No matter how tempting she finds the handsome lawyer, Trisha knows that if Jake discovers the truth about her past, she’ll lose the new life she’s worked so hard to build. Jake Fletcher left Somerset Lake after a tragic loss, but he’s returning for the summer to care for his beloved grandmother, hoping Vi will sell the run-down cottages and finally slow down. There’s just one problem: Trisha, Vi’s new employee. She’s smart, beautiful, and kind, but Jake’s job is to protect his grandmother’s interests, and his gut is telling him Trisha’s hiding something that could jeopardize Vi’s future. However, as they spend summer days renovating the property and bonding over their love for the town, Jake realizes that Trisha is a risk worth taking—if only she can trust him with her secrets . . . and her heart. Includes the bonus novella Kiss Me in Sweetwater Springs!

Release date: May 11, 2021

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 336

Reader says this book is...: entertaining story (1) heartwarming (1)

Sample

Chapter One

This wasn’t a good way to start off the day.

Trisha Langly grabbed a towel and hurried out the door and down the steps just as the sun rose over the Blue Ridge Mountains. She’d accidentally overslept this morning and needed to get to the west side of Somerset Lake quickly—before some poor, unsuspecting person happened upon a sight that couldn’t be unseen.

As property manager of the Somerset Rental Cottages, Trisha had the unique job of heading out every morning to make sure Mr. S wasn’t lying on the shore in his full glory.

This wasn’t a nudist colony by any means, and Mr. S was in his eighties. In his thirties and forties, however, he’d lived on a nude beach. And apparently old habits die hard.

Trisha quickened her step. She’d left her son Petey in bed as usual. She’d only be gone long enough to toss the towel over Mr. S, nudge him awake, and convince him to go home. Then she’d hurry back to have coffee and make breakfast for her son.

Trisha had done a lot of things to make ends meet in her adult life, including housekeeping and running a women’s shelter in her hometown of Sweetwater Springs. She was technically the property manager here, but the job description included a lot more than tending to the twelve cottages and sparse tenants. She also tended to her boss, Vi, an older woman in the house next door. Trisha kept Vi’s garden and purchased her groceries, as well as those of two other homebound tenants. She retrieved the mail every day from the boxes at the end of Lakeshore Drive and delivered it to the addressees’ doorsteps.

And every morning at dawn, Trisha woke a naked elderly man from his slumber.

The blurry image of Mr. S came into view.

Trisha picked up speed. The sun was rising and so would the folks who lived on Somerset Lake. Her gaze caught on movement in the distance. Oh no. Someone was approaching from the opposite direction. Making sure no one happened upon Mr. S was one of Vi’s most important requests from Trisha. Apparently, the last time someone had seen him, it’d caused quite a stir. So much so that an ambulance had to be called.

Trisha started running now. “Mr. S!” she whisper-shouted. “Mr. S, wake up!”

He didn’t move. Over the month that Trisha had been working here, she’d discovered that he was a sound sleeper. It usually took several long minutes to wake him up. That was time she couldn’t afford this morning.

She reached him now, tossed a towel over his midsection, and tapped his shoulder. “Mr. S!” She glanced up and saw the approaching man getting closer, walking a dark-colored dog off leash. Trisha tapped Mr. S a little harder. “Wake up!”

Mr. S cracked an eye. “There you are, T. My beautiful alarm clock.” Mr. S had a thing for calling people by their first initial. It was another oddity in the growing list of the older man’s quirks.

Trisha shook her head. “I’m not the only one here this morning, Mr. S. Please return to your cottage or I’ll have to talk to Vi.”

Vi was tough, although physically she was tiny and medically frail. Mr. S sat up. “Please don’t tell Vi. I’m going. I’m going.”

He turned to look in the direction of the man walking his dog. “Oh, it’s just you, J,” he called down the shore. “You don’t mind me being naked, do you?”

The other man stepped toward them with his dog at his side. Trisha had never seen him at Somerset Lake before, but that didn’t mean anything. Vi and the Fletcher family owned her house and the twelve cottages on the west side, but there were other, larger lakeside houses that rounded the lake. “I don’t mind, but I think the lady’s probably right. You should go home before the folks here wake up.”

Mr. S huffed loudly. “All right, all right.” He stood and secured the towel around his waist before making his way to a nearby cottage that was bordered by a thick wooded area.

Trisha faced the man that Mr. S had called J. “Sorry about that.” She folded her arms across her chest, feeling the need to distance herself from the man in front of her.

“Not your fault. You can’t control Mr. S any more than his wife can. Or Vi.” The man chuckled, his hand absently petting the head of his medium-sized dog, who tipped its head back and let its tongue hang out, seeming to love every second of the attention.

Trisha inspected the man more closely. He was tall with golden brown hair that was slightly overgrown and curling at the tips. His T-shirt hugged his broad chest and not because it was too small for him. He didn’t have bulky muscles, but they were there, begging for her attention just like that dog, whose eyes were now rolled back in its head.

Trisha blinked and willed herself to stop checking out the handsome stranger. She swallowed and glanced down at her bare feet. She hadn’t taken the time to put on shoes or even brush her hair. Mortification quickly flared up through her chest and neck.

Here she was checking out the hottest guy she’d seen on the lakeshore so far, and her just-rolled-out-of-bed look must be making his eyes sore. She was pretty sure she’d coated an oncoming zit with white benzoyl peroxide cream last night too. She suddenly felt as naked as Mr. S.

Trisha glanced over to make sure Mr. S had gone back inside his cottage and was relieved to see that he had. Then her thoughts jumped to her son, who was alone in bed. Or awake and wondering where she was. Somerset Lake was safe, of course. There was no reason to be concerned. Just the constant mom-worry that no one ever told you came along with being a parent. “I have to go,” Trisha told the man she only knew as J. “Enjoy your day.”

Trisha took a step backward, ready to run for more than one reason. A handsome man with no ring on his finger—she’d gotten that far before she’d yanked her gaze—couldn’t lead to anything good for her right now. She’d only been in Somerset Lake for one month. She and Petey were finally starting to settle in, and staying here depended on keeping their distance, and their pasts, locked away. Any kind of romantic interest was definitely off the table.

*  *  *

“Where were you?” Petey looked up a few minutes later as Trisha stepped into their little two-bedroom cottage. The place was quaint, although it needed a few repairs and renovations just like the rest of the cottages on the lake. A hurricane had swept through the central and western part of North Carolina last year, causing flooding and damage in its path.

To this point, Vi, the trustee of her family’s rental cottages, had struggled to complete the repairs. That was the reason Trisha was hired—to pick up the slack. In return, Trisha received a modest salary and a home here at Juniper Cottage.

Trisha ruffled Petey’s hair as she walked past where he sat on a barstool. “Just helping Mr. S find his way home,” she said, not mentioning why that task was so important.

“Why does he sleep outside when he has a bed inside his cottage?” Petey looked up from the sandwich he’d made himself.

“Good question, but I don’t have an answer. I was going to make you pancakes,” Trisha said, eying the mess he’d made.

“But isn’t it against the law to sleep outside without your clothes on?” Petey asked.

Trisha’s mouth dropped open as she spun to fully face her son. “How did you know about that?”

Petey took another bite of his sandwich. “Vi told me,” he said.

“Mrs. Vi,” Trisha corrected. This was the South, and in the South, it may as well have been against the law for a youth to address their elder without a proper Mr. or Mrs. salutation.

“She told me to just call her Vi,” Petey said as he chewed. “She said it makes her feel old when I call her Mrs.”

Well, Vi wasn’t exactly young. She was in her late seventies.

Trisha headed to the back counter and started preparing her coffee. She needed it extra strong this morning. She’d slept restlessly last night, thinking about all the things on her to-do list for this week. It was a hefty job for one person, and she was surprised that she was the first property manager ever at the Somerset Rental Cottages. “It’s respectful to use Mrs.,” Trisha told Petey.

“Not if using Mrs. makes her feel old, Mom. I don’t want to hurt Vi’s feelings.”

Trisha flipped the coffeemaker on and turned, leaning against the counter and looking at her son. Maybe she was a bit biased, but he was the sweetest boy in the whole wide world. There was no risk of him coming off as disrespectful. “Okay, but she’s the only adult you can call by just their first name.”

“Okay.” Petey bit into his sandwich again. He chewed and swallowed before talking again. “But it’s illegal, right? To sleep outside naked? He could go to jail like Dad?”

Trisha hesitated a moment before answering. “Remember, we don’t talk about your dad being in prison around other people here. That’s very important.”

Petey looked down at the counter of the kitchen island for a long moment. “I know. But no one else is here right now. You’re the only one who can hear me.”

“I’m just reminding you. We don’t want other kids picking on you the way they did at your last school.”

Petey’s shoulders slumped forward as his chin tipped toward his chest. “What other kids, Mom? I haven’t seen any kids my age here.”

Trisha sighed softly. “It’s summer. Other kids live in Somerset Lake, I promise. And when you start school in the fall, you’ll meet them and make new friends. And to answer your question about Mr. S…”

Petey looked up at her.

“I guess it is a crime,” Trisha said, “but it’s not like Daddy’s.”

“Daddy’s is worse?” Petey asked. “Because he stole money from people?”

Trisha turned back to the coffee maker, which wasn’t brewing fast enough. “That’s right. He hurt people with his actions. But he’s still your dad,” she said, like she always did when the subject came up. Her ex-husband, Peter, was far from perfect. But Petey deserved a father, even if his father had embezzled, lied, and robbed people of their life savings. Petey also deserved to be able to go to school without other kids reminding him of that fact every day.

“Mom?” Petey asked.

Trisha braced herself for another hard question as her coffeepot grumbled to a stop, signaling that her French roast brew was finally done. She reached for a mug from her cabinet. “Yes?” she called behind her.

“There’s a man with a big dog standing at the door.”

*  *  *

Jake Fletcher waved from where he stood on the porch of Juniper Cottage. The Somerset Rentals were owned by the Fletcher family, but as the last of her generation, his grandmother Vi was the trustee. She handled all aspects of business, including management of the property and the money it brought in, which in recent years wasn’t much.

Jake didn’t think anyone who wasn’t of retirement age stayed in these old cottages, but he supposed he was wrong. Where had the beautiful brunette come from? He held up the bracelet that she’d dropped along the lakeshore when she’d poked at Mr. Santorini. Jake’s dog, Bailey, had sniffed the item out and alerted Jake to it once the woman had left. And Jake had to admit that some part of him was relieved because he’d hoped to run into her again. She’d hurried off so fast. He hadn’t even gotten to ask her name.

The woman squinted at him through the glass door, but she didn’t come to answer it. Instead a little boy with a mop head of black hair came running toward him, plastering purplish fingerprints to the glass that Jake guessed was from jelly residue.

The woman finally walked over to peel her son away. Then she opened the door and looked up at him. “Hello.”

Jake was taken aback for just a second, like a teenaged boy being awestruck by a pretty girl. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the color of her eyes on the beach earlier because he’d been wearing sunglasses. Now he saw that the woman’s eyes were a bright brown that matched a small splattering of freckles along the bridge of her nose and cheeks.

Jake cleared his throat and offered the bracelet. It had a silver turtle dangling from one of its links. “Hi again. You dropped this on the shore. Just returning it to you.”

She lowered her gaze to his palm. While she did, he took a second to look at her more closely. She’d obviously just woken up when he’d run into her earlier. Why she’d left her home so quickly, he wasn’t sure. But even with her unbrushed dark hair and pillow creases running diagonal to her high cheekbones, it was plain to see that she was beautiful.

She took the bracelet, her fingers briefly brushing against his skin. Then she looked up at him. “Thank you. I would have missed this bracelet. I never take it off.”

“You’re welcome. Mrs. Jenkins down the way likes to take her metal detector out every now and then. If she would have found that, she’d have added it to her treasure chest.”

The boy’s eyes lit up comically. “She has a treasure chest?”

Jake chuckled as he looked down at him. There was the same purplish jelly at the corner of his mouth. “That’s right. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.”

“Isn’t that wrong though? Finders keepers isn’t a real thing. It’s stealing,” the boy said, frowning deeply. “And we don’t steal in this family.”

Jake rubbed the side of his cheek where a new growth of hair was filling in. He’d just rolled out of bed before heading down the beach this morning as well. “That’s a good family policy to have,” he told the boy, who couldn’t have been older than seven or eight. He looked back up at the woman. “I should’ve introduced myself to you earlier, but there wasn’t really a chance. I’m Jake. Otherwise known as J.” He gestured at his Labrador retriever mix at his side. “And this is Bailey.”

Her gaze flicked to his dog and back to him. “Well, thank you again for returning my bracelet, Jake,” she said with a too-quick smile. She took a tiny step backward. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make breakfast for my son.”

Jake’s gaze dropped to the purple jelly evidence on the boy’s mouth again. As a lawyer, Jake wasn’t one to miss details. It was his job to notice.

“I’ve already eaten,” the boy said.

“Well, I also need to, um…” The woman trailed off, not meeting Jake’s gaze again.

“Brush your hair and get dressed for the day?” Jake supplied. He was usually a lot more charming than this with a beautiful woman. The brunette standing in front of him looked anything but charmed.

“Yes.” She smoothed her hand over her mussed hair. “That too.” A shy smile curled at the corners of her mouth. Before he could appreciate it too much, it disappeared. “It was nice to meet you,” she said, looking at him now.

“We didn’t meet, actually. I introduced myself, but you never told me your name.”

The woman hesitated. Maybe she was just shy, but the impression he got from her was one of guardedness. “I’m Trisha.”

Jake offered his hand for her to shake. She looked at it for a moment and then seemed to take a breath as she slid her palm against his. “I’ve never met a Trisha before,” he said. “You’ll be hard to forget.” He released her hand and took a step backward. He would’ve asked the boy’s name, too, but something told him he’d be pushing his luck with the inquiry. Instead he waved at the two of them. “See you around the lake.”

Jake walked Bailey for another good twenty minutes. Bailey needed the exercise as much as he did. Plus, Jake was stalling. Grandma Vi didn’t know he was back yet, and she certainly didn’t know the reason he was here.

But he couldn’t delay going to see her forever. He turned and headed toward his grandmother’s house beyond the twelve cottages. He didn’t suspect she would love the idea of selling the Somerset Rental Cottages. But Jake agreed with his parents, aunt, and uncles. Considering Vi’s recent health issues and the fact that the property was edging closer toward foreclosure with each passing month, there was no choice.

And since his family had nominated him to come here and convince Vi, he didn’t really have much choice either.

Chapter Two

Jake!” Grandma Vi moved a lot slower than she had at Christmastime when Jake last saw her. She still moved faster than most people he knew in her age group though. “I didn’t know you were coming to town,” she said as she opened the door for him.

Jake stepped inside. “Sorry I didn’t call,” he said, noticing that Vi wasn’t alone.

“We’re family. You don’t have to apologize for visiting.” Vi turned toward Trisha, who was standing in the living room, adding to the growing mystery of who she was and why she was here. “Trisha, this is my favorite grandson, Jake.”

Jake chuckled and narrowed his eyes at his grandmother. “I bet you say that to your other eight grandchildren too.”

“You are the only boy, so that makes you the favorite grandson.”

This was true. Jake was the only male grandchild, but there were seven other grandchildren. Half of them were defense lawyers at what used to be Fletcher and Sons. Now it was called Fletcher Law Practice. Jake was the only one in his family who’d become a prosecutor. He guessed that made him the black sheep of the family.

Jake gave Trisha a nod and a smile. In return, she lifted her hand and offered a slight wave.

Vi’s gaze bounced between him and Trisha. “It appears that you two have already met.”

Jake slipped his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, rolling his shoulders out until they felt more relaxed. “Trisha and I ran into each other on the lake this morning. She was waking Mr. Santorini.”

Vi frowned. “You know he prefers to be called Mr. S. Was he”—she lowered her voice—“clothed?”

Jake grinned. “Is he ever dressed before dawn?”

Vi shared a glance with Trisha. “You’ve only been here a month, and you already deserve a raise.”

Jake felt his smile drop as he looked between them for answers. “What does that mean?” His grandmother was a one-woman show when it came to running the Somerset Rental Cottages. She’d always refused to hire anyone for anything. There were some things she couldn’t do herself, of course, but those were times she got friends and family to pitch in.

Vi gestured at Trisha, who had taken the half hour since they’d met to change clothes and brush her chestnut-colored hair back into a ponytail. “Trisha is my new property manager. After my little…medical issue, I decided it was time for some assistance. She has been so much help to me already.”

Jake was speechless for a moment. “That little medical issue, Grandma, was a stroke that could have killed you.”

“Could have, but didn’t. A colonoscopy can kill you, too, by the way. It’s been documented,” Vi said.

Jake’s mouth dropped. The lawyer in him took over. “No, that would be medical negligence that killed whoever you’re talking about. Not the procedure, which saves many lives each year.”

Vi laughed quietly. “Oh, it’s so good to have you home, Jake. We have the best debates, don’t we? Always have.”

Jake wanted to argue more. He wasn’t home. Somerset Lake hadn’t been home to him in a long time. Neither was the DC area, where he was coming from. He’d wanted to make his own way in life so he’d stubbornly gone north when the rest of his relatives had gone south. But there was nothing up there for him anymore, and after years of his family tugging on him to join them, he’d finally agreed. He was headed in that direction and aiming to take Vi with him.

He looked at Trisha again. This woman was going to complicate things. It would be a lot easier to convince Vi she wasn’t up to handling the family’s rental properties if she was still handling it on her own. “You hired someone to help? That’s a surprise.”

“Well, it was time. And it’s been amazing to have someone here to relieve me of some of the daily chores involved in running these properties.” Vi clapped her hands together at her chest. “Why don’t we catch up over breakfast?” She turned to Trisha. “You and Petey can join us, too, of course.”

Jake noticed that the boy, Petey, was sitting on Vi’s couch with a book in his lap. A boy after Jake’s own heart.

Trisha shook her head, a beautiful smile blooming on her lips. “No, thank you, Vi. Petey ate earlier, and I need to take this list of yours to Hannigan’s Market.”

“You’ll check to see if Tammy needs anything?” Vi asked.

Tammy lived in Ivy Cottage right next to Mr. S.

“Of course.” Trisha was still smiling.

For a moment, Jake couldn’t take his eyes off her. She possessed an unassuming beauty that seemed to grow the more you looked at her.

“So breakfast?” Vi turned back to him.

“I would never turn down a home-cooked meal from you,” Jake said, partly relieved that Trisha had declined to stay. The other part of him was disappointed though. Sharing breakfast with a beautiful woman wouldn’t be a bad start to his day.

*  *  *

“What are you doing, Mom?” Petey stepped over to where Trisha was sitting. They’d already been to the market, picked up groceries for Vi and Tammy, another cottage resident, and delivered them. Now Trisha was holding an old camera that she’d found while packing up her home in Sweetwater Springs last month. It was a nice camera. Expensive. And she felt a little guilty owning it because maybe her ex had purchased it with money from cheating his clients.

“Just looking at this old camera.” It wasn’t old though. It’d never even been used.

“Dad gave it to you, right?” Petey leaned in to get a better look at it.

“Yep.” After Peter’s arrest, the feds took most of the things of value that Trisha owned. “I don’t even know how to use it. I can’t find the manual that came with it.” Trisha laid the camera on a small outdoor table in front of her.

The table was part of the porch furniture. It had taken Trisha a good hour when she’d moved in just to clean this one table from the grime that had set in from being outside. Then she’d done the chairs, working her way through all the porch furniture. She’d also cleaned Vi’s, and now she was going to Mrs. Beaver’s house once a week and slowly reviving hers as well. The job description as property manager here wasn’t set in stone, but Trisha didn’t want for anything to do either.

“Hi there!” A voice floated on the air toward Trisha, coming from the south side of the lake. A woman with long, auburn hair in a ponytail was headed toward her. She looked to be in her thirties or maybe her late twenties.

Trisha didn’t invite her up her steps, but the woman climbed up anyway, stopping at the top stair and resting against the banister. She was holding a plate of something that looked and smelled delicious.

“Hello, neighbor. I’m Lucy Hannigan,” she said. “I live down the lake. I heard there was a newcomer in Somerset so I came to see for myself. I’m ashamed that it took me this long to get here.” She lifted the plate. “But I come bearing cinnamon buns hot from my oven. Hopefully that makes up for my rudeness.”

Trisha stood and stepped closer, leaning in to get a better look at the tray of treats. “Wow, that’s very kind of you.”

“Full disclosure, because there’s no such thing as secrets in this Hallmark town, I bought these sticky buns at the market and warmed them in the oven before heading over.”

Trisha tried to ignore the whole no-secrets-in-a-small-town line. Maybe she should’ve moved to the city, but she’d never been a city girl at heart. She liked the slow pace of a town that only held a thousand people or less. Somerset Lake’s population was a little over five hundred. Trisha also liked knowing everyone’s name and their story; she just didn’t want people to know her story.

Lucy offered her the plate of cinnamon buns. “Careful. They’re hot,” she warned.

“I’m Petey,” Trisha’s son said first, making Trisha realize that for the second time today, she hadn’t introduced herself to someone she was in a conversation with. “I’m seven years old, and I want to be an engineer when I grow up. Or an architect. I like to build.”

“Wow. That’s ambitious.” Lucy looked down at him with a warm smile.

“Or I want to be a veterinarian like my uncle Chase because I like animals. But my mom won’t let me have a pet.”

Lucy shared a look with Trisha. “Well, pets are a lot of work,” she offered, helping Trisha’s case. “You have to feed them, walk them, bathe them.” She tapped the list out on her well-manicured fingers. “I have a little dog at home, and she’s very demanding.”

“Why didn’t you walk her down here?” Petey asked, ever ready with a question. For that reason, Trisha thought he’d make a better lawyer or reporter.

“Well,” Lucy said, “because she would’ve tried to eat your cinnamon buns. And they’re for you and your mom.” Lucy looked back up at Trisha.

Time to introduce myself. “Thank you for these.” Trisha offered her hand to shake. “I’m Trisha. It’s nice to meet another neighbor.”

Lucy shook her hand and seemed to look around the deck, which had very little on it. Just a couple chairs and one drooping plant that needed watering. “You’ll meet us all eventually. The crowd on my stretch is younger than the folks over here. This stretch of property used to be more of a place for retirees on vacation. You know, the whole live in the south in the summer and fly farther south for the winter.”

Trisha surprised herself by laughing. “Yeah, I’ve heard that about the Somerset Rental Cottages. I’m the property manager here.”

“Oh?” Lucy apparently hadn’t heard that bit of information. “Interesting. So what are Vi’s plans for these old cottages?”

Trisha set the plate of cinnamon buns down on the outdoor table. “Renovate them and rent them out. To anyone. Vi would actually like to attract a younger crowd, just to change the perception of this place.”

Lucy’s gaze roamed over Juniper Cottage, no doubt taking in the wear. There was a lot of work to be done before people would flock to live here. Trisha wasn’t in charge of doing all that work herself. Vi wanted her ideas though. She wanted Trisha to do the legwork and find the necessary and cheapest contractors. Vi didn’t have a lot of money to invest so frugality was important.

Trisha’s first priority in her job title was caring for those who already lived on the lake though. And those residents were needier than Trisha would’ve expected.

“So anyway”—Lucy pointed down the shore—“if you ever need anything, I’m in a neighborhood called The Village. Turn in there and head straight down Christmas Lane. I’m in the pink house at the end. You can’t miss it.”

“Christmas Lane?”

Lucy grinned. “We love the holidays around here. Just wait.” Lucy looked between Trisha and Petey for a moment. “So just the two of you, huh?”

Tension rolled back between Trisha’s shoulder blades. “Yes, it’s just us.” And she hoped Lucy didn’t ask the next obvious question: Where was Petey’s father?

Lucy apparently had more class than that. “Well, maybe you’ll come downtown with me one Friday night. There’s live music and dancing in the summers. It’s a good time. We call it Sunset Over Somerset. You’ll meet a lot of people, and I’d be popular if I was the one to lure the town newbie down there.”

Trisha smiled because it seemed like the polite thing to do. But she had no intention of going downtown with Lucy, even if she seemed nice. And even if Trisha missed having a close friend nearby. Her best friend Sophie in Sweetwater Springs was only a phone call away, but it wasn’t the same.

“What an amazing view this stretch of lake has,” Lucy said with a long sigh as her gaze roamed over the lake and then snagged on Jake, who was sitting on the neighboring deck. She looked at Trisha with wide eyes and an open mouth. “Jake is back?”

Trisha couldn’t figure out if Lucy looked shocked or excited. “Just for a couple weeks or so. You know him?”

Lucy’s expression was unreadable. “Of course I do. He was one of those guys that all the girls had an eye for growing up. He only ever had eyes for my friend Rachel though.” Lucy’s gaze lowered for a moment. Then she looked back up at Trisha with bright eyes and a brighter smile. “Well it’s official, my new friend. You definitely have the best view on this lake.”

*  *  *

Later that morning, Jake headed down Vi’s pier, where his amphibious seaplane was tied to the end post. It’d been kept in a large garage, getting tended to whenever Jake came to visit. Now he’d have access to it for a decent stretch of time. In his experience, there was no better way to relax than to immerse yourself in the clouds.

He walked toward the plane with Bailey matching his pace. When he reached the end of the pier, he opened the door to his plane. He’d started flying these birds when he was fifteen. His grandfather had owned one, and he’d taught Jake everything he knew.

Bailey jumped up onto the seat of the seaplane, knowing the routine. Jake unwound the rope secu. . .