The Lake House by Marci Nault Read Free Book Online Page B

apartmentcomplexes, strip malls, and gas stations had replaced the large, green yards of yesterday.
    “Before we get groceries, I want to make one stop,” Molly said as she pulled into a lot in front of a small blue building. She smiled as she looked at the bay windows of the coffee shop. A hand-painted sign read Daisy Dots. The windows were decorated with painted purple, blue, pink, and green daisies.
    “What a surprise, you want to get a coffee and some dessert,” Victoria said as she climbed out of the car.
    “You and I haven’t been able to do such mundane things in a long time. I thought it would be nice,” Molly said as she opened the glass door and a bell rang. The smell of coffee and chocolate greeted her along with the sound of milk being steamed and the buzz of conversation. Each table had a yellow linen cloth and a blue vase that looked like something out of Dr. Seuss, filled with yellow daisies.
    People sat in overstuffed purple chairs and on couches near the fireplace. A long line of people stood waiting at the case of colorful baked goods glazed with fruits and chocolates.
    “Grandma,” Molly’s granddaughter, Stacy, called out as she bounded from behind the counter. At twenty-seven, Stacy was the spitting image of Molly at that age: all feminine curves on a short frame. She wrapped her arms around her grandmother. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
    “Well, I had to show Victoria what incredible entrepreneurs my daughter and granddaughter have become.” Molly turned to Victoria. “You remember my granddaughter Stacy?”
    Victoria smiled and nodded. “Of course.” She embraced the girl. “This place is adorable. When did you and your mother open it?”
    “A year ago,” Stacy said, as she beamed with pride. “All the baked goods are Grandma’s recipes.”
    Molly watched Victoria force a smile. What had she done? How could she have been so inconsiderate? Victoria had just come home to the place where Annabelle had died and here Molly was showing off her very alive granddaughter. She should’ve waited.
    Before she could rectify her mistake, Molly turned and saw her neighbors Sarah and Carl Dragone walking through the front door. Molly folded her hands together and squeezed. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, asking that this first encounter between Victoria and Sarah be served with love.
    Sarah and Carl made their way to a table near the fireplace. Carl stood behind Sarah and helped her to remove her wool coat. Sarah was almost three inches taller than Carl and he had to reach up to help her. Carl wore a navy baseball cap with the embroidered red B on the front. No one but Sarah had seen Carl without a cap since 1977, when the last of his black hair had fallen out. When Sarah complained that a hat wasn’t appropriate in church, he quit attending.
    They walked toward the line of customers. In a white cardigan, black turtleneck, and dark green pants, Sarah carried herself like a schoolmarm. A large golden crucifix hung between her small breasts. Carl, dressed in jeans and a Patriots sweatshirt, looked and moved like a bowling ball. They’d always been opposites. Sarah believed in proper etiquette. Carl spent years perfecting armpit farts. When Sarah miscarried for the third time, she left the Episcopalian church and converted to Catholicism, saying it was a stricter faith. Carl spent his Sundays yelling obscenities at sports teams.
    Sarah Dragone’s lips pinched together when she saw Molly and Victoria. Her hair had been pulled back into a tight bun that accentuated the anger in her hazel eyes.
    Please God, let this go well, Molly prayed again.
    “Sarah, Carl, I didn’t expect you would be out today,” Molly said. “Victoria and I are doing a little shopping to get her place habitable.”
    “Why bother? I’m certain she won’t be staying long,” Sarah said, extending her arms to Molly’s granddaughter while refusing to look at Victoria. “How’s my beautiful