The guesthouse at autumn.., p.1
The Guesthouse at Autumn Lake, page 1
The Guesthouse at Autumn Lake: Autumn Lake Book 1
Copyright 2022 Becky Doughty
Published by BraveHearts Press
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, posted on any website, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in printed reviews and articles. The persons and events portrayed in this work of Fiction are the creations of the author, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Cover Design: Mackey Designs
Author Info: BeckyDoughty.com
ISBN: 9781953347503
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Contents
1. Penny
2. Ward
3. Penny
4. Ward
5. Penny
6. Ward
7. Penny
8. Ward
9. Penny
10. Ward
11. Penny
12. Ward
13. Penny
14. Ward
15. Penny
16. Ward
17. Penny
18. Ward
19. Penny
20. Ward
21. Penny
22. Ward
23. Penny
24. Ward
25. Penny
26. Epilogue
From the Author
Excerpt: The Apartment on Larkspur Lane
1
Penny
“There’s something rather… euphoric about pulling into a place that feels like home after having been away for ten long months.” Even as she said the words aloud, Penny knew they made little sense, even to her. Not only was this place not her home, but these next two months were, in fact, her time away from home, not the other way around. Eventually, she’d have to return to her own life and pick up the pieces of everything she’d left behind.
But until then, until July wound down and August reared its responsibility-laden head, she wouldn’t think about that.
In the air-conditioned comfort of her car, while her road trip playlist piped out another Ranae song, Penny gave herself a stern look in the rearview mirror. Then, she placed a hand over her heart and declared, “I, Penelope Eva Anderson, do solemnly swear that I will leave my worries at home where they belong, and that I will wake up each morning in this beautiful place with a spirit of gratitude and hope and anticipation for whatever the day will bring.”
The vow was one she made to herself every summer before she set foot out of her car in the lovely little town of Autumn Lake.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax and the spinning plates she always seemed to be balancing in her mind to drop.
Outside the car windows, the late-morning sun shone warmly down on the lush front lawn of the bed-and-breakfast Penny would call her home away from home for the next two months. Flowerbeds awash in early summer color pooled whimsically around the base of the wraparound porch, a telltale sign of the green thumb who resided at the property. Behind the house, sprawling out from the back door like rainbow rays, was the rest of the garden Hazel Poleman tended so meticulously. Penny could hardly wait to make her way back there so she could revel in the ordered chaos of flowers and vegetables cohabiting the space so beautifully. There was also a small orchard of stone fruit trees, their branches aggressively pruned to hang low for easy picking, and several apple and pear trees espaliered against a south-facing brick wall to make the most of the space. She itched to get her hands dirty, to bury her fingers in the rich, dark soil that was the foundation of Hazel’s gardens.
Just as she reached down to turn off the ignition, Taylor Swift’s “Shake it off” riffed out through the speakers. Penny laughed gleefully and turned up the volume. She popped the trunk latch from her key fob and scrambled out of her seat, leaving the car running so the song could play loud and proud. It would be her summer anthem, she decided, and she let herself shimmy-shimmy-shake-shake to the catchy rhythm of the song.
Eyeing the basket of groceries—nonperishables she’d keep stashed in her room for late-night reading binges—and the bag of her shoes in her back seat, she realized she’d have to make at least two trips. She left the driver’s side door wide open so she could hear the music and bopped her way around to the back of the car. Singing along with the words she knew far too well for someone her age, she shook her backside as she unloaded her small suitcase of clothes and personal items, followed by her much larger duffel bag loaded with the books she’d brought with her. Most of them she’d already read over the last school year; she’d donate those to the Autumn Lake Library when she paid the place a visit in the next few days. But there were several she hadn’t been able to get to, and she was determined to do so before she made her way to The Cracked Spine in town to restock her to-be-read pile. She had a whole new list of books to pick up from Claire Maitland, the owner of the bookstore on Dahlia Drive, so the pressure was on, as the proprietress would say, to get to cracking spines. Book spines, of course.
It had always struck Penny as a bit of a morbid name for a bookstore. Claire acknowledged that it did sound more like a chiropractor’s office than a bookstore, but she didn’t care. “It’s my life’s work to get people reading, and that means cracking some spines. I want them to love books so much they all but fall right into them.” With her waist-length blonde hair, her porcelain features, and her willowy figure, Claire looked like she’d stepped right out of a fairy tale herself.
Penny hoisted the heavy bag of books onto her shoulder, then closed the trunk lid, still singing along with Ms. Swift. It was a little harder to shimmy and shake all loaded up the way she was, especially since her old suitcase had a broken wheel that kept getting stuck sideways. But she still managed a little jiggle-jiggle as she dragged her suitcase toward the front steps of the old waterfront guesthouse where she would be staying for the next two months. The wraparound porch beckoned her already, and she couldn’t wait to fill a Mason jar with Hazel’s homemade lemonade and settle into one of the comfortable old patio chairs with a brand-new romance novel.
She managed to lug her things up the wide steps to the front porch, and although the privacy screen door prevented her from seeing inside, she already knew that the heavy front door stood wide open to allow the cooling breeze from off the water to circulate through the house.
She rapped gently on the screen door, then pulled it open, not waiting to be invited in. There were no formalities at The Garden Gate Guesthouse.
The front parlor sat empty, but that wasn’t unusual, especially this early in the season. Come July, though, when the summer temperatures hit their peak, especially in the middle of the day, guests were much more likely to head inside and make good use of the comfortable furnishings just to stay out of the worst of the midday heat.
“Hazel?” Penny called out, smiling as she heard banging coming from down the hall.
Hazel, the delightfully eccentric proprietress of the bed-and-breakfast, had a bit of a reputation for being a wannabe Rosie the Riveter. She’d fearlessly tackle repairs around the place, only to have to give in and ask for help, often after she’d exacerbated the original problem. The septuagenarian claimed to love being self-sufficient, but sometimes, especially in the last couple of years, Penny got the feeling that Hazel wouldn’t mind having someone around to help her with keeping up with the house and property. The woman had mentioned as much on more than one occasion to Penny.
“For whatever reason, the good Lord didn’t see fit to surround me with a husband and children of my own. Instead, He gave me this house and told me to open up its doors. Sometimes, I admit, it seems more than I can handle on my own, but then, without fail, He sends just the right help my way, and I somehow manage.”
Penny would love nothing more than to be ‘just the right help’ for Hazel, but she knew that was an impossible dream. Her help was desperately needed elsewhere.
Back at home.
But she wasn’t going to think about that.
She left her suitcase and bag of books in the parlor and headed toward the sounds coming from the direction of the stairwell that sat just around the bend at the other end of the hall. She let her fingertips drift over the pattern of the vintage wallpaper, relishing in the familiarity of the kitschy décor. Her footsteps were muffled on the thick wool carpet runner under her feet. Nothing had changed about the place in so long, and as far as she was concerned, that was what made it feel so much like home to her.
Then she heard the buzzing shriek of a saw blade. “Oh, Hazel,” Penny murmured in trepidation. “What on earth?” In a surge of panic, she quickened her pace and rounded the corner, only to stop in surprise at the sight that greeted her.
A curtain of opaque painter’s plastic hung to the floor from where it was taped to the ceiling, closing off access to the stairs. The whir of the saw quieted momentarily. “Hazel, what are you doing?” she called out carefully, not wanting to startle the woman, lest she sever a thumb. Or worse. “No morbid thoughts while on vacation, Penster,” she chided herself.
When there was no response, Penny fumbled her way around the plastic enclosure until she found an opening and drew it back. The aroma of fresh-cut wood washed over her, a
“Oh!”
A man stood with his back to her, his shoulders and arms speckled with sawdust, his t-shirt damp with perspiration, and clinging to his torso. He leaned over a makeshift workbench constructed of a thick piece of plywood resting across two sawhorses. On it was the chop saw he’d just been using. He wore protective eyewear and a pair of chunky headphones, presumably sound protection, Penny surmised, since he clearly hadn’t heard her. He lifted an arm to grip the back of his neck, the motion tightening the muscles in his back and making his biceps bulge.
“Oh,” Penny said again, a little breathier this time, a flush warming her from head to toe. She fanned her face with one hand. It’s the heat in here. Of course, it’s the heat. It had to be a good fifteen degrees warmer inside the plastic-draped space.
Penny suddenly had no idea what to do. Should she make her presence known? Should she go back down the hall and make more noise so he would know she was coming? Should she run?
“Um, yes, Pen. Run!” It came out much louder than she’d intended, just as the guy pushed the headset away from his ears.
A sound that probably shouldn’t come out of a man—ever—came out of him. A shriek, not unlike the sound the saw had just been making. He spun on his heels, the headphones clattering to the floor behind him, his fists clenched at his sides, his mouth and eyes open wide in surprise.
Penny, in turn, let out a scream of her own, and she lurched backward, with the plastic sheeting still clutched in one hand. To her dismay, a few feet of the curtain pulled free of where it was taped to the ceiling.
The next sound that emanated from the guy was much manlier. A snarl. No, a growl, Penny decided. His eyes darted from her face to the plastic in her hand, up to the ceiling, and back again in quick succession.
“Sorry!” She let go of the sheeting and lifted both hands at her sides in the universal sign of I-mean-you-no-harm-don’t-hurt-me. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I—I didn’t know you were in here.”
He narrowed his eyes and clamped his jaw shut as he glared at her. His chest—she was doing her best not to notice his very broad chest—rose and fell rapidly. His fists were still balled up, but he’d lowered them. That had to be an encouraging sign, right?
“I mean, I figured someone was in here. I just thought you were Hazel.” Like that didn’t make her sound a little crazy? Why on earth would Hazel be enclosed in a plastic bubble using power tools? Penny was pretty sure that the woman wouldn’t have bothered with the dust containment. No, Hazel would have wielded her power tools right out in the open for all to see.
What had she been thinking?
And why wasn’t the guy saying anything? Hadn’t she just apologized?
She lifted her chin and gave him as disdainful a look as she could muster. “Look, I said I was sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to scare you into letting out that man-scream.” He flinched at her choice of words to describe the noise he’d made, and she wanted to raise a triumphant fist. Good one, girlie. But then she immediately felt remorse. She wasn’t unkind by nature, and she didn’t like that this snarling, glowering man was goading her into saying things out of character for her. “Besides, you surprised me, too, you know. I—I thought—.”
“You thought Hazel was in here using power tools,” he finished for her, as though he’d read her mind. His tone, however, made it clear that he didn’t believe a word of it.
“Where is Hazel?” Penny asked, not liking his sarcasm. But at least the guy had found his voice. She crossed her arms and glowered back at him. “And who are you?”
“Who are you?” he shot back, crossing his own arms in what she could only assume was a mockery of her stance. So rude.
“I’m a guest here. Where is Hazel?” she demanded again, this time a bit more adamantly.
“She’s not here.” He thrust his chin at her. “And you’re not supposed to be here, either.” He bent over and scooped up his headphones, brushed sawdust off them, then set them beside the saw on the makeshift table.
“Uh, yes, I am,” Penny declared indignantly. “And who did you say you were, again?”
“I didn’t say,” the guy retorted as he busied himself doing something with a pencil and a tape measure. He had his back to her, so she couldn’t see what the project was, but curious as she might be, she wasn’t about to poke the bear even more by trying to sneak a peek around him.
Besides, she wanted a name. Someone she could put on her ‘Who to Avoid this Summer’ list. A list that consisted mostly of men Hazel and her friends had tried to set her up to have summer romances with. They tried every stinkin’ year, no matter how often she insisted she wasn’t interested in such a thing.
She didn’t even have to wait for someone to suggest this guy. His name—at least, once she found out what it was—was going on her list immediately.
“Name’s Ward,” he tossed over his shoulder at her.
Penny blushed; could he read her mind? Was that even possible? And was Ward his first or last name?
He turned around again and leveled an impatient glare at her. “Hazel said no one would be here this morning. Said I’d have the place to myself at least until noon.”
Was he sulking? Penny had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. Hazel said… He sounded like one of her second graders. She glared right back at him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt your you-time?”
“No. You interrupted my work time.” He pointed at the ceiling where the plastic had come away from the tape, thanks to her. “You going to fix that?”
“Excuse me?” she spluttered.
“Are you going to fix that?” He said each word a little slower, like he thought her half-witted.
“I heard you the first time. And no. You can fix it yourself, bubble boy.” It was time to go. She’d just come back later when, hopefully, this rude, sweaty man wouldn’t be here.
As she spun on her heel, her foot tangled in the edge of the drooping plastic. Ward let out another strangled sound of warning, but it was too late. With her first angry step, she brought down the rest of the sheeting, and the whole thing drifted down around them like a billowy cloud.
Penny froze, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. “Oh, no,” she groaned behind her fingers.
“Are you kidding me?” Behind her, Ward’s voice rang with frustration.
Dreading having to face him again but knowing there was no avoiding it—she couldn’t just run, no matter how badly she wanted to—Penny slowly turned back around, not even bothering to disentangle her foot from the plastic. “I am so sorry,” she murmured. “I really did not mean to do that.”
Ward stood with his hands propped low on his hips. His head was bowed, but she could see the muscles in his jaw bunch with restraint.
“I—I can help you put it back up, if you…” Her voice faded to silence as he lifted his head to glare at her. Her chin went up again, even though she felt a little sick over the chaos she’d just brought down around him. Literally. “Or I can just leave now.”
“You know, I think that’s a good idea.”
He really was awful, Penny decided. It had obviously been an accident. It wasn’t like she’d meant to tear down his work bubble. “Fine. Leaving. I’ll come back this afternoon when I’m supposed to be here,” she added, making air quotes around the word with her fingers.
He wasn’t wrong. She was early, and technically, check-in time wasn’t until three p.m. She’d tried to call Hazel to let her know she’d be arriving sooner than she’d expected, but the calls had just gone to voice mail. She’d gotten on the road several hours earlier than she’d originally planned, and she’d made remarkably good time, having avoided the worst of the morning traffic by leaving the city before rush hour. Hazel had never seemed to mind her showing up before check-in in the past, and Penny had just assumed today would be no different.
“You do that.” Ward was already turning away from her, stalking toward a ladder that was propped up against one wall.
In the silence that followed, Penny could hear the faint strains of music wafting down the hall toward them. She smacked herself in the forehead. “My car.” She’d left the thing running this whole time. She quickly disentangled her foot from the plastic and headed back the way she’d come. She only felt the tiniest bubble of shame at the state she was leaving him in, but that was because she was a nice person. In fact, if he had been even the tiniest bit nice, himself, she would have insisted on staying and helping. She may not know a whole lot about construction, but she worked with children. She was a master at taping.
