Read Online Angel Lane by Sheila Roberts - Free Book Online Page A

progress, but that was the way of all artistic creations. Whether they were made from flour, sugar, and eggs or out of fabric, works of art took time.
    They also gave a girl an appetite. She needed fortification. She went to the kitchen in search of coffee and a cookie. She could hear the sound of hammering coming from the garage, which meant Sam was working in his shop.
    She filled a mug and wandered over to the living room window. The early-morning clouds had moved on and now the sun was out and making the lake sparkle like a gigantic sapphire. When she was a child her parents had owned a cabin on the water. They sold it after the first permanent residence made its appearance, trading the place in on some property at the ocean. But Sarah always loved the lake, and when she and Sam married, they moved there. They couldn’t afford to be on the water, so they wound up across from it, and because the houses on her side of the street were slightly uphill, they still got a view. The neighborhood was friendly and the street was quiet, except for the occasional noisy barbecue. And she and Sam were usually present for those, contributing to the noise, so who cared?
    Today Anna Grueber was out walking her schnauzer, Otto. Across the street the Morioka boy was raking leaves. And aU-Haul moving van was pulling up in front of the corner lakefront rambler that she and Sam had considered buying. They’d been too slow, so she’d heaved a mental shrug and reminded herself that she was perfectly happy with her lovely view.
    Still, she’d been curious to see who beat her to the punch. She’d heard the new people were supposed to move in after the first of November. They must have fudged the moving date a little. She craned her neck for a better look.
    Another car pulled up behind the U-Haul—an old beater of some kind. American made. Sam would know the make and model in an instant. Out spilled two young men who looked to be somewhere in their thirties. Another young family. Great. But where were the women?
    The U-Haul cab door opened now and out stepped a middle-aged man. He was short and square with salt-and-pepper hair and was wearing jeans and a leather bomber jacket. He walked over to one of the young men and clapped him on the back, and for a moment all three stood surveying the house. Where were the women?
    The men sprang to life, opening the moving truck, letting down the hydraulic lift. She tried to get a better look at what might be inside and banged her forehead on the window. Maybe the missus was coming in another car. Maybe she’d be showing up any minute and wondering what kind of neighborhood she’d moved into.
    This was a perfect opportunity to keep the small-town spirit alive. Sarah hurried to the kitchen and pulled out the recipe for her coveted huckleberry coffee cake from the old, wooden recipe box that had been her mother’s. Then she got to work.
    She was pouring batter into the pan when Sam ambled into the kitchen. “Looks like we’ve got new neighbors,” he said, peering over her shoulder into the bowl.
    â€œDid you meet them?”
    He looked at her like she’d suggested something ridiculous. “No. They’re trying to get moved in.”
    â€œYou could go offer to help.”
    â€œNah. Looks like they’re almost done.” He dipped a finger in the batter.
    â€œI know you didn’t wash your hands,” she scolded.
    â€œGerms are good for you,” he retorted, and stuck his batter-dipped finger in his mouth. “When will this be done?”
    â€œIn about a half hour,” she said. “But don’t get excited. It’s not for us.”
    â€œIt figures,” he said, his voice frosted with disappointment. “Let me guess. It’s for the new neighbors.”
    â€œI thought it would be a nice way to welcome them to the neighborhood.”
    â€œAnd to get inside the house and see what’s going on,” Sam