Chapter Three Sophie
Three
Sophie
“Well, if this isn’t the most interesting thing to happen on my morning walk since Riley Nagle’s canoe floated off with his cat still in it last summer!”
Sophie turned to find a woman in her sixties sweeping toward her, her lilac cardigan as bright as her smile. Everything about her radiated the kind of cheerful authority that suggested she was used to organizing both people and events into submission.
Her rescuer emerged from his boathouse then, pausing as he watched the woman approach, supplies held in his arms like he was preparing for a tactical retreat rather than a simple handover of dry clothes and coffee.
“Ah, Luke, I was just about to introduce myself to your new and very pretty neighbor,” the woman said, adding a wink.
In return, Luke gave the woman the kind of long-suffering look that suggested this wasn’t their first roadside ambush.
The woman turned to Sophie, her green eyes sparkling. “I’m Mabel Sullivan, owner of Blossoms she’s something of an anglophile.
But look at you, poor thing, all wet.” Her eyes twinkled as she glanced out at the lake.
“Most people wait until summer for a swim.”
Sophie laughed, already warming to Mabel’s motherly enthusiasm. “Not exactly part of my planned grand entrance. The dock had other ideas.” She gestured to the broken board that had betrayed her. “Though I suppose it’s one way to meet the neighbors.”
“And what a neighbor to meet first,” Mabel said with a meaningful look at Luke, who was very deliberately focusing on watching a bird diving into the lake.
“Luke’s family have been the unofficial custodians of Solace Lake for generations.
And as my grandmother would always say, everything happens for a reason. ”
Sophie felt her cheeks warm, and not just from the coffee.
She recognized that look in Mabel’s eyes.
It was the same one her mother had got right before trying to set her up with her friend’s nephew.
Clearly, small-town matchmaking was universal.
And just because Sophie was technically on the rebound and Luke happened to be unfairly attractive didn’t mean she needed the entire town playing cupid.
She wasn’t here for a meet-cute. She was here to prove she could take risks that didn’t involve men.
Even scowling, ridiculously handsome ones.
“Speaking of things in the lake,” Mabel added, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “you might want to keep your eyes on Maple Island after dark. There have been some…unusual sightings lately. The whole town’s talking about it.”
Sophie looked toward the small island in the middle of the lake, which rose from the water like a forgotten relic; a tangle of gnarled pines and jagged rocks at its edges, the hint of a stone-built building, complete with chimney, at its center.
Luke barely suppressed his eye roll.
“What kind of sightings?” Sophie asked, instantly intrigued.
If there was one thing guaranteed to distract her from both her soaking clothes and her very hot neighbor, it was a good mystery.
She’d spent countless London commutes with true-crime and mystery podcasts in her ears.
Her ex used to say her imagination worked overtime, but Sophie preferred to think of it as having an open mind to life’s mysteries.
“Strange lights dancing from among the trees,” Mabel said, clearly pleased to have found a fellow sleuth-story aficionado. “Even the inn’s guests have seen them.”
“There’s an inn there?” Sophie asked.
Mabel nodded. “The Maple Inn, been there over a century. At first we thought it was just reflections from cars up on the hills on the other side of the lake, like someone keeps insisting”—she shot Luke a look—“but there’s been talk.
Ella from the museum swears its smugglers using underwater drones.
Grace is convinced someone’s dumping toxic waste that’s making the fish glow.
And don’t get me started on what the knitting club think after their true-crime podcast marathon. ”
“It’s called moonlight,” Luke muttered. “Been happening since the dawn of time.”
“Moonlight doesn’t move through trees,” Mabel countered. “And it certainly doesn’t dive underwater.”
Sophie’s mind was already racing with possibilities.
“This is just like that case I read about! These weird lights on a Scottish loch turned out to be divers finding stolen antiques in underwater caves. The police thought it was drugs at first, but nope, thieves had been using the caves to store their haul.”
“No underwater caves here,” Luke said with another heavy sigh.
Sophie ignored him. “Does anyone have wildlife cameras? Ooooh, underwater ones would be fab, too. We could set them up at different depths, track the movement patterns…”
Luke made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh.
“Oh!” Mabel clapped her hands together. “That’s brilliant! Luke has all sorts of fancy equipment for his tour business. And didn’t you just get those new underwater lights for night fishing trips?”
“Not happening,” Luke said firmly. “Absolutely not.”
“But think about it,” Sophie pressed. “If nothing else, you’d have proof it’s just moonlight and headlight reflections. Though personally, my money’s on a secret research facility,” she added, giving him a wink.
Luke’s lip twitched up slightly.
“Better than Caleb’s theory about merpeople.” Mabel nodded sagely. “Though that would explain why some of the lights have been seen near Luke’s evening tours. You do have that merman kind of look about you, Luke…”
Luke shook his head. “I’m leaving now,” he announced, “to fix a kayak. Which is a real problem that actually exists.”
He headed toward his boathouse, but Sophie didn’t miss how his eyes lingered on the island for just a moment too long.
“Our Luke’s a marvel with anything that needs fixing,” Mabel told Sophie as they watched him grab some tools from a small shed next to his boathouse. “Boats, docks, buildings. Half the town would fall apart without him. Though he’d rather wrestle a bear than accept a compliment.”
“Well, stop the presses and hold the avocado toast!” came a vibrant voice.
Sophie turned to see a man in his forties, tanned and glowing, with a dazzling white smile and a wardrobe straight out of a Palm Springs resort catalog.
His linen shirt was half-open, his sunglasses perched on his artfully tousled blond hair, and a chunky turquoise necklace hung around his neck.
“You must be our new British neighbor,” he said when he got to her.
“I’m Caleb, by the way. Caleb Hansen. Writer, dreamer, brunch enthusiast, and—”
“Part-time troublemaker,” Luke called over.
“Why, thank you for the compliment, Captain Grumpy!” Caleb called back. “I live on the eastern side of the lake with my better half, Mikkel. He’s an interior designer.”
He gestured across the lake to where the more modern boathouses were. The one he was pointing at was all glass and warm wood, a wraparound deck with an elegant canoe moored at its edge.
“Wow, it’s stunning,” Sophie said.
She heard Luke make a disapproving noise.
“Yes, isn’t it? Despite some people’s disapproval,” Caleb said with an eye roll. He cocked his head, taking in Sophie’s appearance. “Is the drenched mermaid-in-distress look all the rage in London nowadays?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she replied, flipping her damp hair with mock glamour. “We’re calling it ‘wetcore.’ It’s huge. British Vogue is doing a whole spread on it next month.”
She noticed Luke suppress a smile.
Caleb let out a delighted laugh, clapping his hands together. “Oh, honey, I love you already. Now, tell me you’re not planning to let this little diamond stay in the rough?” he asked as he surveyed Sophie’s boathouse.
“Yes, we’re dying to hear what you’ve got planned,” Mabel said.
Sophie blinked, already disarmed by the larger-than-life presence of her new neighbors. “Well, I was thinking of turning it into a bookshop, actually.”
Caleb gasped, clutching his chest as though she’d just announced she was saving an endangered species.
“A bookshop? Oh my gosh, that is everything. I mean, you’ve got the vibe already: quaint lakeside chic meets literary haven.
It’s giving me all the feels.” He waved his hand as if to fan himself. “Now, tell me, what’s the big vision?”