The House by the Lake by Ella Carey Read Free Book Online Page A

everything more poignant somehow. It was as if this place, hidden away in the forest, locked up by the recent past, had been forgotten now, as so much was forgotten once it was gone. Once it was done.
    But why did it have to be finished?
    Anna made her way back to the square, taking the next road. After several minutes she turned back around. She had passed a ghost of a post office but nothing else. The clouds had turned to dark gray now—she had been walking for at least an hour. It was nearly six. There was still no sign of life in the village beyond the hotel—and the shop.
    Of course. It was still open. But for whom?
    Anna pushed the door open. She was hungry now, and her eyes burned with exhaustion. She experienced another bout of dizziness, as if the floor under her feet were spinning.
    An elderly woman sat behind the counter, but she stood up when Anna appeared and turned to busy herself with the racks of cigarettes behind the till. Anna watched out of the corner of her eye while the old woman pulled a couple of packets out, sorting them in a halfhearted way.
    Anna glanced around the store. It looked as if nothing much had changed here for a long time. The merchandise—mostly packaged goods—was arranged in three aisles, and there was a small selection of fruits and vegetables in a fridge at the back.
    Anna decided it would be tactful to buy something before approaching the storeowner. She wandered, fascinated by the German biscuits, the jars of sauerkraut, and the packages of sausages in the freezer section, drawn by the colors of the packaging and the potential of new ingredients. She had to shake herself back to the present.
    Finally, Anna selected a packet of chocolate cookies. She needed them. After stalling for a few seconds so that she could plan what she was going to say to the woman at the counter, she made her way over to the till.
    “ Guten tag ,” she said, wincing at what was probably the worst German accent the woman had ever heard.
    “Hello,” the woman replied in English, holding out a hand for the cookies, not smiling.
    But Anna was not going to budge. “I was wondering—could you tell me where I could find the mayor of the village?”
    The woman scanned Anna’s cookies and punched numbers into her cash register, deadly slow. Anna bit her lip and paid for her small purchase.
    The woman studied Anna as if assessing her—up and down the entire length of her being. “I am the mayor of Siegel. If you have questions, you must talk to me.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    Lake Geneva, 1934
     
    There was something about being out on the water that spelled freedom, glamour, and exhilaration, all blended into one heady mix. Looking out over the deep-blue water and sparkling sunshine, while Max leaned against the side of the boat next to her, Isabelle felt a sense of hope, of happiness and possibility that she had not felt since she was a child.
    Even if today was just an aberration, she could live on the feelings she was experiencing now for months. She had a good imagination, but she hoped that she wouldn’t have to use it. Deep down she hoped that she could live like this, feel like this, forever.
    Max pointed out several picturesque towns as they motored along, telling her which of them sold the best Swiss chocolates, which held the most colorful weekend markets, which had the liveliest restaurants and cafés, even which were best for clothes shopping.
    Isabelle caught her breath when they passed private waterfront estates, their immaculate gardens surrounding gabled and turreted houses with motorboats and yachts moored to private jetties. But, as Max pointed out, the lake had its wild side. Impenetrable mountains—their tips capped with smatterings of snow—loomed behind the forests above shingled, deserted beaches.
    “Here we are. St. Prex,” Max said, as the boat slowed and turned toward the shore.
    Didi and Jo were talking in the wild, excited voices typical of young men. Virginia had taken off her hat