Second Chances in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #3)

27. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

T he day was hot, and Diana walked down to the beach wearing a cover-up she’d made herself and a wide-brimmed hat she’d found in one of the closets. Under her arm, she carried an old bath towel.

She’d never lived near a beach before. It was a novel experience. In Pennsylvania, there were mountains, and she’d thought she’d never see anything as beautiful, especially in the fall when the leaves turned vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow. But the lake possessed its own charm, and she especially loved those lavender-hued skies at nighttime. It was hard to beat. She’d been surprised when someone had told her that the shadowy mass across the lake was Canada. At first, she’d thought they were kidding, but it had turned out to be true. She’d never been to another country before, and she hadn’t realized Canada was that close. She liked to look at it across the water, sitting there in a mysterious haze, and wonder what they were doing over there. Was someone on that side lying on a beach, looking across the water at the United States and wondering the same thing?

The beach was crowded.

She found an empty space on the sand to spread out her towel, not too far from the water. She didn’t know how to swim, but she stepped into the lake up to her knees and splashed some water on herself. She was afraid to go any farther.

Once she cooled off, she returned to the old bath towel and sat down with her legs stretched out in front of her. She folded up her cover-up and created an impromptu pillow.

Trying not to be too obvious about it, she glanced around the packed beach. An elderly woman stood at the shore, holding hands with an elderly man, most likely her husband. With her free hand, the woman held up the skirt of her housedress and let the water rush over her feet, giggling like a schoolgirl. Blankets, towels, and old bedspreads were laid out all over the beach, bearing people of all ages. There was an obvious lack of young men; the few who were there must either be on leave or their health had kept them back from joining the military.

But there were girls Diana’s age all over the place, mostly clustered in small groups of three, four, and five, laughing and talking loudly. Diana envied them. She hadn’t made one good friend since she arrived. She saw some people regularly enough that they’d acknowledge her with a nod or sometimes even a wave if she was lucky. But the close friendships among these women had formed during their school years, and Diana had arrived too late. She thought of her friends back in Pennsylvania. Since the move, she’d lost touch. It was her own fault.

Hopefully, she would make some friends at her new job.

She settled on the bath towel and to take her mind off her loneliness, she pulled Preston’s letters out of her bag. They were very romantic. She flipped over and lay on her stomach, feet in the air, and pulled the first letter out of its envelope and started reading.