Diamond Lake Series: Complete Series (Bks 1-7) Boxset

by T. K. Chapin

  “Yes, Emily?”

  “I can’t be late. I have to turn in that extra credit to Mrs. Platt.” Her eyes drifted over to Mr. Finley’s house and the moving truck I was looking at only moments earlier. “Who’s moving in next door?”

  “I’m not sure.” My eyes found their way back over to see the piano rolling down the ramp. Who was this new mysterious guy who’d moved in next door? I wasn’t sure, but I planned to find out.

  As I backed out of my driveway, I pulled my thoughts away from the mysterious new arrival to the neighborhood and focused on the day ahead. Dropping the kids off at school for their last day, I stopped by the grocery store for a few needed items, and then headed off to my shift at Dixie’s Diner.

  Chapter 2

  After helping with dishes all morning after a big breakfast rush, I was more than ready for my lunch break. As I sat down with my chef salad in a booth, Miley came over and sat down with me.

  “You want to get together tonight? I need a girl’s night. How about you?”

  I smiled. “I don’t know. I’m little on the tired side.”

  “You okay? You seemed a little lost in thought all morning in the back.”

  Finishing my bite of salad, I nodded. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the new neighbor who moved in next door.”

  “Thinking about the neighbor?”

  “Yeah. He’s cute.” My thoughts drifted back in time to earlier that day when I saw him.

  “Single?”

  “I don’t know . . . probably not.”

  Miley let out a laugh and reached across the table, grasping my free hand. “Don’t think that way. He could be. You never know . . . you know?”

  “Yeah. I suppose you’re right, but I have three kids and I’m pretty sure I’m older than him. He probably doesn’t want all this baggage if he is free.”

  Miley looked me in the eyes. “You have a lot to offer, Charlotte. You have a big heart and can cook like nobody I’ve ever met! Don’t tell Serenah that though.”

  I laughed. “Thanks.” As I sat and finished my salad, my mind began to wander to the new neighbor. I pictured us walking along the shore with the sun setting across the lake, drinking a cup of coffee together at my kitchen table, and even sharing a cup of tea under the stars on my back porch. Realizing I was daydreaming about a complete stranger, I snapped myself out of it and headed back for the rest of my shift.

  I spent the second half of my shift helping bus tables and serving until around four thirty, when two of the vilest people walked in—the Atkin brothers, Frank and Cody. The Townson family’s enemy was the Atkins family. And while I wasn’t a Townson by blood, I did find myself aligned with their family. In my youth, I had taken piano lessons from Edith Townson. She might be quite a bit older than me, but she was one of my closest friends I had in Newport.

  Slipping to the back of the restaurant as my heart pounded, I hoped to avoid waiting on their table. I watched from the small window in the swinging doors. Feeling my anger rise inside me, I asked out loud, “Why? Why must the lousy Atkin brothers come here?”

  A snicker came from behind me and I turned around. It was the cook Diego. He was logging into the computer for his shift.

  “It’s not funny.” I turned back to look through the little window and back at the table the brothers were sitting at. “I can’t stand the Atkin’s family.”

  “You’ll have to take their table. Wendy is sending Miley home early.”

  “Ugh. Fine.” There was nothing I could do to get out of it. With a fake smile, I pushed open the swinging doors and headed toward their table. Every step I got closer, I prayed for God’s help. It’d be a miracle if I could get through taking their order without slapping one of them across the face. There was too much history. Arriving at their table, I forced my fake smile wider and pulled out my pen and pad to take their order. Faking happiness wasn’t too hard for me. I had been accustomed to it as a server for two years now. There seemed to always be a few—let’s say . . . inconvenient—customers almost weekly. “What can I get for you, gentlemen? I mean, guys?”

  “Rude.” Frank crossed his arms on the table and leaned in to laugh a little. Then he looked up at me. “What about some food?”

  “Okay.” I can’t do this. They’re just going to be immature. Dropping my hand to my side, I began to walk away.

  “Come back! I’m just playing.” Frank motioned me back to the table with a wave and a smile.

  I kept my composure and headed back to their table. I sent another prayer up. I needed God’s ability to show grace and mercy. There was too much anger and anxiety built up over all that was going on between the Townson and the Atkin families. My self-control petered out and my self-will took hold. “Are you ready to order, Mr. Atkin?” My eyes shifted to another customer’s table in the restaurant. “Or would you rather just steal someone else’s plate of food?”

  His smile turned into a tight-lipped expression. His voice deepened. “We’re going to find our bell and there’s not a thing you or that Townson family can do about it. We have family from all across the country showing up to Newport to finally retrieve our bell from Diamond Lake.”

  Smirking, I said, “We’ll see about that.”

  “We’re closing in on the bell. I can feel it,” Cody added.

  “Oh, yeah?” Raising an eyebrow, I continued. “You have a lead?”

  Frank shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You just worry about our food getting to us hot. We’ll take two cokes and a couple chicken clubs, Ms. Charlotte.”

  They didn’t have any leads. They were probably just jerking me around, but it drove me nuts regardless. My cheeks began to burn from trying to keep the fake smile on my face as I went to the back of the restaurant. As the swinging doors closed, I exploded. “Those self-righteous Atkin brothers are so agitating!” I ripped the order from my pad and tossed it up on the order rack.

  “Jeez,” Diego said as he glanced around the corner of the metal shelves he was at further in the back.

  Walking back to him as he pulled down the box of napkins from a top shelf, I continued. “They’re jerks, Diego. I can’t stand them! I’m not even a Townson, but I just don’t like them!”

  Diego kept quiet as he opened the box of napkins.

  “I’m sure they’re wonderful people in their circles of friends and family, but I cannot stand their rudeness toward anyone who doesn’t agree with them.”

  “Aren’t you rude toward the Atkins?” he asked.

  “No . . . maybe. I don’t know. I try to be nice.” My mind wandered. Was Frank telling the truth about having family coming to town to help expand the search of the Townson’s lost bell? What if it was true? I needed to tell the Townsons what I learned, regardless of it being true or not. It could help them speed up their own efforts. “I’m taking a break.” Undoing my apron from my waist, I tossed it onto the nearby counter and headed through the back door.

  Moments later Wendy came outside. “You on break?” she asked snidely.

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Let someone other than the cook know next time,” she retorted and went back inside.

  Shaking my head as I walked away I called Edith.

  “Charlotte.” Edith answered with an elegant tone that conveyed both gentleness and joy to hear from me. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Hey, Edith.” Glancing through a side window into the restaurant, my eyes fell on Frank and Cody. “Do you know about the Atkins having family come to town?”

  “There is a rumor floating around about an Atkin cousin purchasing The Newport Theater.”

  Pressing my hand against my forehead, I turned and began to pace. “Really?”

  “Yes, but why do you ask, dear?”

  “A couple of Atkin brothers came into the diner and were talking about closing in on your family’s bell in the lake.”

  “Interesting . . .” Her tone shifted to concern, and then she paused for a moment before continuing. “Keep your e
yes and ears open, Charlotte. Would you?”

  “I’ll let you know anything I find out, Edith.” As I hung up the phone, I saw Frank purposely knock over his cup of soda onto the floor, and then he and Cody began to laugh.

  Returning back inside after my phone call with Edith, I felt my annoyance with the Atkin family rising. Like a summer storm moving in, I was ready to dart back into the dining room and smack Frank upside the head for the stunt he pulled. How dare he come into my place of work and show such a lack of respect? He had no right. Cutting through the kitchen, I grabbed my server apron and went through the swinging doors back into the restaurant.

  They were gone.

  Glancing at Miley over at the register, I asked, “Where’d they go?”

  “They paid and changed the order to be a ‘to-go’ and left when it was done. Just a minute ago.”

  “Surprise they actually paid for their meal. Last time they left they just told Miley I offered to buy their meal.” Glancing toward the parking lot, my kindling wrath began to dwindle as relief took over that they were gone.

  After stopping by my mother’s house to pick up the girls, I arrived back home to spot the mysterious new neighbor sitting out on the back of the moving truck. His help seemed to have left and he looked a bit lonely. I wondered if perhaps his wife was out gathering new cleaning supplies for the house. I had always done that each time Bradley and I moved somewhere new. Regardless, I felt it was proper to go introduce myself and welcome him and his family to the neighborhood.

  “Go ahead inside,” I told the girls as we got out of the car. They headed toward the house while I crossed the patch of grass that separated our properties. He didn’t see me on my approach, but I kept my eyes on him. He was attractive, but I dismissed any desire that I felt in the moment. A man who looked like that had to be taken.

  “Hey,” I said with a grin as I approached him.

  He jumped a little and spilled his glass of lemonade on his shirt. “Hey . . .”

  “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m your neighbor—Charlotte.”

  “It’s okay. I’m Dylan.” He extended a hand to shake mine as he set his lemonade down beside him. My wandering eyes couldn’t help but notice there was no ring on his finger. Not married? Or just the type of guy who doesn’t wear a ring? Hmm . . . His arms were well defined and his white tee shirt was tight against his body in all the right places. It was difficult to not let my mind wander too long as I looked him over. Turning my head, I glanced over at the house.

  “So you’re the brave soul that took on the abandoned house? When I took a peek inside a couple of years back, it was pretty bad in there.”

  “It just needs some love.” He stood up and stood closer to me as he pointed to the front steps. “You see that overgrowth out front? It’d take less than an afternoon to clean up.”

  He might have been moving all day, but I got a whiff of his scent and it was heavenly. I needed to know if he was married quickly. “Is that factoring in help from your . . . wife?”

  He shook his head and sat back down on the end of the truck. “No wife. Just me.”

  Dylan gazed back over at the house. “Shouldn’t take more than a week to clean up and get the electrical fixed in the house. I can ‘rough it’ until then.” Our eyes connected as he finished his sentence.

  Warmth washed over me as I looked into his golden brown eyes. He was handsome, and that fact terrified me. “Neat.” My eyes turned back to the house. “I’m sure if Mr. Finley were still alive, he would have been happy to see someone move in and fix it up.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Who’s that?”

  “He used to live here. He was an old guy who lived in this house clear back to when I was a kid. That was a long time ago, and the house was old then!” Letting out a bit of a laugh, I said, “Guess I’m dating myself with that comment.”

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t guess you’re over twenty-five.”

  I blushed. This guy is laying on the charm big time, and before he even gets moved into his house. Smiling, I shook my head. “Try thirty-seven.”

  His eyebrows shot up as he leaned forward. “No way! I couldn’t have guessed that in a million years.”

  “How old are you, Dylan?”

  “I’m thirty-eight.” He stood up and touched the side of my arm. “Come in and let’s get you a glass of lemonade.”

  Stepping back, I shook my head. “I can’t. I gotta get back to my girls.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to ask. Are you married?”

  “I’m very single. I just need to get them some dinner.”

  “Ah . . . I gotcha.”

  Our eyes connected and we both smiled. The slight awkwardness I felt in the moment reminded me I hadn’t dated much since Bradley. I tried online dating, but it didn’t work out at all. The only guys I could manage to find always ended up weird, and most were downright creepy. The best date I was able to muster up from online dating was dinner and a movie, but all he did was talk the entire way through the movie. He gabbed on and on about how corrupt Hollywood had become over the years and how they’re a working hand of Satan.

  Interrupting our moment, a faint but very distinct voice called out to me. Turning my head, I saw it was Bailey hollering from the doorway and waving me over. Looking back at Dylan with a smile, I said, “I’d better get going.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Charlotte.” He extended his hand again. Just to feel the touch of him, even for a moment, brought a certain comfort to me.

  My smile grew as I tilted my head. “It was nice meeting you too.” As I crossed the grass, I glanced back to catch him still looking at me.

  “Feel free to come by anytime,” he said.

  I smiled and kept walking back to my house. He was cute, charming, and not married. Life just got a little more interesting.

  Chapter 3

  After dinner, I baked a dozen chocolate chip cookies for the girls to take over to Dylan. In the Gilroy family, we had a longstanding tradition of welcoming newcomers to the neighborhood with sweets. I remember as a child my mother hustling to the kitchen at the first sighting of a moving truck pulling into the neighborhood. Oftentimes, it’d be a plate of cookies or brownies, but on occasion, she’d make her famous four-layer dessert. My sister, Abby, and I were always tasked, once we were old enough, to take the freshly baked goods to the newcomers.

  As I wrapped the plate of cookies with tinfoil, I called for the girls to come downstairs to the kitchen. As they came down the stairs and through the living room, I could hear the girls exchanging giggles.

  “Those smell so good, Mom!” Tristan said.

  “They’re for our new neighbor next door, Dylan. I want you girls to take them to him.” I gave Emily the plate of cookies. She sighed heavily.

  “I’m not a kid anymore,” Emily blurted out. “This is a kid thing to do.”

  “Lead by example and by listening, please.” Glancing toward the back door and then back into Emily’s eyes, I said, “It’ll take you maybe five minutes to take the trip over there with your sisters. It won’t kill you.”

  “You sure it won’t?” Emily responded. “Because I could trip and fall and die or something. Plus, he could be a total weirdo and into kids, and you’re sending all your girls over to his house.”

  “Stop,” I said, furrowing my eyes. “It’ll be fine. Newport is a good town with good people. I met him and he’s fine.” Leading my girls out the back door and onto the bricked patio, I sent them next door.

  Returning to the kitchen, I poured myself a cup of tea from the kettle on the stove and went to the patio—my favorite place. I could look out across the lake and drink in a beautiful sunset in the evenings and also look up at the starry night sky on a cloudless night while I kept warm by my outdoor fireplace. No matter the night or occasion, I found comfort in being able to see and appreciate God’s design and handiwork in all the beauty from the patio. If only there were someone to sha
re it with.

  Turning my eyes to the sky, I raised my cup of tea toward Heaven and said, “Thank you for getting me through another day, Lord.” As the tea rushed over my taste buds like a high tide coming in, I felt my body relax and my mind begin to unwind.

  After a while—enough time to be concerned—I began to wonder why the girls hadn’t come back yet. Standing up, I walked over and glanced through the evening toward the light I could see illuminated on Dylan’s back porch. Why aren’t they back yet? Anxiously waiting, I kept my eyes on the light. A few more minutes passed, and then I decided to walk over and see what was going on.

  Walking up to the back porch, I took a deep breath and let it escape my lips. It helped lower the anxious feelings that were churning in my chest. Giving the door a couple of short knocks, I waited. I could hear little footsteps coming to the front door, and little Bailey opened it.

  “Mommy!” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “You’ve gotta come see this!” she exclaimed, grasping onto my hand and leading me into the house.

  “See what?” I asked with a smile as she led me through a hallway and to a stairwell.

  “Upstairs. These birds!”

  “Birds?”

  “Yes! Birds! Dylan makes them out of wood. He has lots of them!”

  “All right. Let’s go see.”

  Bailey took me upstairs and down a hallway of doors to an open one. Inside, I found Emily and Tristan at the base of a chair that Dylan was sitting in. In his hands, he held a small bluebird sitting perched on a barbed-wire fence.

  “You were right,” Emily said, making eye contact with me for a moment and then over to Dylan. “It was her.”

  His eyes met mine as he grinned. “Sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to worry you. They were just fascinated with one of my carvings down in the kitchen.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “It’s all right. So you carved all these?” My eyes scanned the shelves that were full of different types of birds. “They are all so life-like.”