The Summer House by Lauren K. Denton

Author:Lauren K. Denton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2020-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

Early Wednesday evening Hazel stood on her pink stool at Rose’s counter, gently pressing the bottom of a juice glass onto balls of snickerdoodle dough lined up on a cookie sheet. As this was the second night in a row that Hazel would be spending the night at Rose’s cottage, Rose had depleted her mental stockpile of child-appropriate activities—swimming, coloring, picking weeds, making paper dolls, folding clothes—and was now moving on to other, less-tested methods of keeping her grandniece entertained.

As Rawlins had predicted, his ex-wife, Tara, began working as many shifts as possible in her new job, and Rose for one was glad for the shift in care. She knew Rawlins was too. Rose could tell he was never entirely comfortable after Tara picked up Hazel for their days together.

So really, her job change was a blessing, though her timing couldn’t have been worse. The beginning of the shrimping season was always the busiest, and with Tara working almost all dinner shifts at the restaurant and many lunches as well, Hazel would be a more frequent presence around the village. And seeing how Rose was her de facto babysitter, Hazel would also be the newest—and youngest—neighbor.

“I love baking,” Hazel pronounced as she smashed the glass onto the last ball of dough. “These smell so good.”

“You think so?” Rose slid the sheet into the oven, holding an arm out to keep Hazel from coming too close to the heat. “Wait until they finish baking. They’ll smell even better. They can be our after-dinner treat.” Rose set the timer for sixteen minutes, then led Hazel out the back door. She needed a little breathing room after standing shoulder to shoulder—more like shoulder to elbow—with Hazel for the last half hour. She loved the girl, but Rose’s personal bubble was growing smaller and smaller.

Rose pushed open the door and inhaled as she walked out into the evening air. The sun was making its slow descent over the bay, casting the water in a sparkling glow. Clouds pushed in from the south, dark purple-blue over the horizon. Rose hoped Hazel was okay sleeping during thunderstorms.

Rose sat in one of the Adirondack chairs and set her timer on the table next to her, then stretched her legs out in front. Hazel ran ahead to the grass, hopping through it like a bunny. She investigated each of Rose’s three bird feeders hanging from the scrubby oak tree in the side yard. After a few minutes she plopped down in the chair next to Rose.

“Do alligators ever come out of that water?” she asked, one finger pointing to the bay.

“I’ve never seen one here,” she said. “But other places on the island, yes.”

“You mean like in the swamp?”

“There, yes. Also in the nature preserve.” A few years ago the National Wildlife Service had designated two miles of walking trail through the island’s scrubby forest as part of its nature preserve, an honor that ensured developers couldn’t sweep in and take land for nefarious purposes. “Have you ever seen an alligator?”

Hazel shook her head.

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