Page 180 of Secrets Along the Shore

No, they wouldn’t do that. Not them. Not the sisters who always smiled when they saw me across the water. Not the girls who brought me cherry licorice and told me secrets about their neighbor’s dog having puppies. Not the girls who signedfriendand pointed to me.

But people change. People lie.

I stared harder, willing the light to blink. Wishing, praying, begging. But the lodge stayed dark, the shadows thick, the silence pressing.

Maybe someone told them I was strange. That I didn’t belong. That I wasfavored—whatever that meant. Maybe they’d grown tired of me, tired of having to slow down their speech or fumble through hand signs. Maybe they were embarrassed by me. Ashamed.

I thought we were different.

But maybe I was just a project to them. A novelty. A summer charity case they’d finally outgrown.

A sick feeling rolled over me. I swallowed hard and turned the flashlight off, setting it gently beside me. The boat shifted with the current, alone in the dark. And I let the anger bloom—hot and sharp and mean.

It was easier than sadness. Easier than disappointment.

Then I saw her—the younger sister—racing my way. I twisted the oars in my grip, bracing for her offensive reason when no excuses would be enough to appease my anger.

None.

CHAPTER

ONE

Flathead Lake, Montana

Present Day

If houses could breathe,this one exhaled dust. I felt the wooden front doors groan open beneath my palm, revealing the wide cavern of the entry hall beyond. Everything inside was still and shadowed as though the place had been holding its breath for the last fifteen years—waiting for someone, anyone, to return and stir it back to life.

I stood in the doorway, holding the keys in one hand, the deed in the other. Even now, I wasn’t sure the ownership feltreal.

Mine. The lake lodge was mine. Old man Scanlon had left me his lodge.

Why me?

But wasn’t that always the question? I had been chosen every year for five years for reasons I never understood—chosen until the Fourth of July night when the Bishop girl drowned in the middle of the lake.

Then I was never invited back…until now.

And now, I held the keys to Scanlon’s private kingdom as my own.

I stepped inside, feeling the hardwood crack beneath my boots. Thescent hit me next—old pine, wax, dust, maybe something metallic underneath. The smell that never quite left my memory, even after years of being gone.

The lodge hadn’t changed. Its ceilings were still high and vaulted, thick beams stretching across like the ribs of some sleeping giant. The chandelier overhead looked like an iron cage strung with crystals and cobwebs. To the left was the long hall that led to the kitchen and common area. To the right was the library, filled wall to wall with books and the fireplace I used to curl up beside on cool nights.

But it was the stairs straight ahead that pulled me forward. The landing flashed with memory beneath the stained-glass window. Sunlight streamed in and covered a smiling Becca—no.Her sister. The little one. The one with the flashlight. The one who drowned.

What was her name?

I squeezed the keyring in my hand until the sharp edges bit into my palm. I couldn’t recollect her name sign, either. It was so long ago.

And I wasn’t here for memories. I was here to clean the lodge out, sell it, and send the money back to the school, the only parent I ever had. Had this been a peace offering from Scanlon? I would never know why he left it to me instead of a family member.

The question circled in my mind the entire flight here, the entire drive up the winding path that led to the lodge like some hidden road to a forgotten castle. I wasn’t close to Scanlon. I hadn’t spoken to him since I left the school after graduation and moved to Idaho to start my life over. I never even said goodbye. It made little sense. Unless the others had been right all along, and I was his favorite in some weird way.

The signs had been there. The looks. The rumors. How I was always selected. How the headmaster gave me extra attention, extra praise. Some called me teacher’s pet. Others called me worse. I didn’t care. Not then. Not when it meant coming here—escaping the school, the way everyone else’s eyes looked right past me.

Here, I had the lake. I had peace and the girls across the water. The summers felt like dreams. And maybe they were.