Chapter 2: Chapter Two

The gated community of Rainbow Falls Estates was charming with its eight nearly identical homes, each with a detached garage. The ocean sat just behind the U shape formed by the homes. A common house with landscaped shrubbery, greenspace, and a couple benches separated the lane that went in one direction only. Annie knew this because it was clearly marked with a handwritten sign that seemed out of place on the wrought iron gate.

Annie made her way past homes with arched peaks and adorable porches. Even her parents’ cottage, which sat in the corner of the U, had a dormer window despite having no second floor. It just sat on the roof like a space to watch the world go by.

She parked her truck in the driveway, noting the soft, almost rust color of her parents’ home. Each house was a beach-home shade, but she liked the uniqueness of theirs over the yellow, blue, or green.

Getting out of the vehicle, Annie felt a slight pang at the realization that she wouldn’t see her parents for a while. They’d keep in touch, but it wasn’t the same as getting pulled into one of her father’s hard hugs or having her mom run her hand down Annie’s oft-unruly brown hair.

Her dad had recently retired from his job as the dean of admissions for a nearby college. Her mom had gone down to part-time years ago, retiring from her job as a lab technician at the same time as her dad. With all of them having busy work schedules, plus the minimum few hours’ drive between one place and the other, she’d grown used to seeing them once a month or so. Now it would be at least a year.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat that came from missing them, grabbed her purse, duffel bag, and coffee. Taking the paved path toward the couple steps leading up to the porch, she opened the white screen door, punched the security code into the panel on the door handle.

After kicking the door shut behind her, she dropped her bags. The entryway was part of the large, high-ceilinged living room. Annie set her coffee on the side table by the door, going to the wall of windows that looked out on the front lawn. She pushed two upper ones open, letting in the fresh breeze to combat the stale air. Turning, she smiled, recognizing the familiar couches, the coffee table her father had made a few Christmases ago, and a large television mounted over a stone fireplace. They were all a welcoming way to mix the familiar with the new. Even without her parents here, it felt like home.

When they’d moved in, they’d given her a FaceTime tour, so she knew the archway to the left, off the living room, led to a hallway, two bedrooms, an office, laundry, and a bathroom.

To the right, another rounded arch led to the kitchen. Unlike so many homes today, these houses didn’t have an open concept. She headed for the kitchen—what her mother always called the heart of a home. Annie wasn’t much of a cook, but she loved to eat. Her DVR recordings were an eclectic mix of cooking, crime, and reality shows.

Light poured in from the many kitchen windows—one over the sink, French patio doors, and a picture window over the built-in eating nook—making the room feel large and homey.

Through the nook window, she watched an elderly man shuffle toward the other end of his kitchen. Her parents hadn’t said much about their neighbors.

“Small place like this, I’ll probably meet them all inside a week.”

Turning, she walked the few steps to the double doors, pushing them open. Salty, ocean air slapped her face, filling her with energy and happiness.

She might not have been a great cook, but she’d make use of the grill sitting out there. Beyond the deck rail, the water crested against the rocks soothing her soul. It was impossible to tame her smile. She breathed in as much salty air as her lungs would allow.

The yard was teeny-tiny, postage-stamp sized. It was edged by large—nearly waist high—ocean-smoothed stones, like a nature-made fence. Feeling adventurous already, she took the couple steps down from the porch to the perimeter of the yard. Between her house and the one to the right, there was a trail leading to a set of steps. As soon as she’d eaten and was settled, she’d make her way to the beach.

Waves continued to slap the rocks below her while gulls called out to each other. Her tummy rumbled again, reminding her she really needed some breakfast.

Though there was a perfectly good guest room, Annie took the master because it had the attached bath. One she planned to use tonight to soak and stare up at the stars through the skylight.

She turned in a circle, loving the fact that she was going to wake up to the ocean. A seagull hovered on the rock wall before landing to look around.

Giving a giddy laugh, she fell flat onto the king-sized bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is my house for the next year.” She’d enjoyed her condo with Vivian, but it’d always been her dream to own a house. The condo had its perks. It’d been perfect for that time in her life, but she wanted her own space, a home to call her own. One by the ocean was a whole other step up on the dream ladder.

She clapped her hands together. “Time to move in.”

She stopped long enough to make herself a peanut butter sandwich on toasted bread. Her mom had loaded up the freezer with several of Annie’s favorites, including baked goods, bread, bacon, and some individually packaged chicken. Annie took a pack out to thaw, thinking about using the grill later that night. She thought back to the drive through town, trying to remember if she’d seen a grocery store. Seeing as she’d only driven three roads to get through town, she’d probably missed it.

After polishing off her sandwich, she lugged in all of her belongings, which, truthfully, wasn’t much. Knowing she was coming to a fully furnished home, she’d brought her clothes, personal items, her laptop, and her favorite books along with a few other odds and ends. She’d sold the living room furniture she owned to Vivian and stored a few of her larger items like bookshelves and her four-poster bed.

By the time she had all the boxes in, she was ready for something cold to drink on the deck. Annie smiled when she opened the pantry to find her childhood favorite iced tea crystals. Rooting around to find a pitcher, she made the tea, added mountains of ice from the fridge’s handy ice maker and had just about settled into one of the porch’s two Adirondack chairs when the doorbell rang.

Not trusting the seagulls, she brought her tea back in with her, set it on the counter just as her phone rang. Everything or nothing, she thought with a smile. Vivian’s name popped up on her screen. She swiped to accept as she walked through the house.

“Hey.”

“Hi. You there?” Vivian’s voice was Sunday slept-until-noon sleepy.

“I am. It’s gorgeous. I’ll send you pictures. I just have someone at the door though, so can I call you back?”

“For sure. Glad you’re there. Miss you.”

Annie smiled. “Miss you, too. Talk to Danny about coming up in a few weeks. There’s a guest room.”

Vivian mumbled agreement and hung up. Annie pocketed her phone just as she reached the door. Looking through the shell-shaped peephole—cute—she didn’t see anyone. Weird. She pulled the door open.

With the porch being a step down and the tiny wisp of a woman being so short, it was no wonder Annie hadn’t seen her through the door. The curly white hair—even fashionably styled—indicated an older age, but this made her shadowed, smoky eyelids that much more dramatic. Annie envied the ease with which the woman pulled off a look Annie never could. Her typical makeup regime consisted of a washcloth, some soap, and a swipe of both mascara and lip gloss. This woman’s painted red lips, sparkly gaze, and wrinkles showing a lifetime of smiles and laughter could have made her the poster child for how to age well.

“Hello, dear. You must be Annie. You’re just as beautiful as your parents described you to be. Tall thing, aren’t you?” This was all said as the woman hustled her way indoors, a large covered basket in hand. “I’m Margie. I live three doors down to the left. I saw you pull in and wanted to welcome you. Gave you a bit of time, but you haven’t headed back out to the truck again so I decided you were finished. I’m head of our social committee.”

Annie grinned, amused and a little overwhelmed by the speed with which this woman spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you, Margie.”

“You, too, dear. I’ve brought you some muffins. They’re my personal favorite, double chocolate. I hope you’re not one of those city girls who’s into all sorts of weird additives like kale and celery root.”

Annie followed behind the woman, who clearly knew her way through the house. She scrunched her brows, wondering whether kale could be considered an additive and what the heck celery root was. Why even eat celery? Just have a glass of water, people.

“I love chocolate. That sounds delicious. Thank you.”

Margie put the basket on the table in the nook, opened it to reveal the most amazing-looking muffins, large with perfectly domed tops. She’d eaten, but there was no way she wasn’t attacking those treats.

Her mouth watered with just a glance. “Wow. Those look incredible.”

Margie moved to the cupboard, helped herself to a plate, then pulled a fork from the drawer. Her happy yellow sundress wafted around her tiny figure like the wind trailing after an unstoppable force. She set a muffin on the plate, handed it to Annie with the fork.

She nodded, gestured with her hand. “Go on, take a bite. Not one of those city girls who won’t eat, are you?”

Annie laughed, wondering which city girls this woman knew. “I’m not.”

She broke a piece off with her fork, slightly unnerved with the bossiness of her neighbor and being watched while she ate. But heck, for chocolate, she could be bossed around. When she took the first bite, Annie sighed in delight, closing her eyes to fully immerse herself in the flavor. When she opened them, Margie gave her a knowing grin.

“Can you bake?”

Annie’s brows furrowed. She wasn’t Betty Crocker, but she could follow a recipe if she had to. She shrugged, hoping that her full mouth would keep her from having to answer.

“It’s not hard. You’ll be fine.” Margie reached into the basket, pulled out a piece of paper, took it over to the fridge. “Here’s a schedule. You make six dozen of your choosing every six weeks. Only six of us take part because the others are sticks in the mud.”

The muffin turned dry in her mouth. Schedule? Six dozen what? Muffins? Had she ever made that many of anything? She’d never even bought that many.

Margie went on, pointing to whatever she’d put on Annie’s fridge. “We try to make it easy to keep track, so we arrange everything for Mondays. That’s when you deliver the muffins and pick up prescriptions. We’ll add you to the group text thread, and that way if anyone has library books they need returned or picked up, we know in advance. Now, not to throw it at you but your mom’s turn was next Monday. It’s easier to keep you on the same schedule. Can you handle that?”

Annie nearly choked on the last bite. She cleared her throat, going to her tea and taking a long swallow. “I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes watering as she looked at Margie. “But what?”

Margie smiled like she was talking to a young schoolgirl. “It sounds like a lot, but you’ll be fine. You’ll see how nice it is in the weeks these chores aren’t yours. It’s important we all work together. We’re a community. We watch out for each other.”

Annie set the plate down, trying to keep her tone polite. “Prescriptions?”

Margie nodded. “Yes, dear. Most of us are on anywhere from one to a dozen. Well, not all of us. You probably aren’t, unless you’re on birth control, but you don’t likely need to have that picked up more than once every few months.”

Annie was positive her cheeks flamed, but Margie acted as if she was just sharing the weather report.

“Raj is on several because of a back injury. Of course, Tate isn’t on any though I’d say he needs one now and again that adjusts his teenage attitude. Mostly, he’s a good kid though. His grandfather has several, what with the glaucoma and the acid reflux and the lung condition.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed. Who were these people, and why on earth was she getting a list of their ailments?

“I have no idea who or what you’re talking about,” she finally said.

Margie walked over, patted her arm and hooked her own through Annie’s. “I’m throwing a lot at you, aren’t I? That’s just because I’m eager to get to the senior’s center. Joseph and I have started a games afternoon there, and today is the first one. You look a bit tired today, but maybe you can join us another time.”

She pulled Annie along. It never occurred to Annie to dig in her heels.

“Your parents showed me a couple of your fancy designs in that magazine. You’re good.”

Annie’s gaze widened at the quick topic change and the whirlwind that was this woman. Magazine? Right. She’d done a freelance job for a popular home magazine, and it’d received some great praise. She hoped to work with the magazine or possibly other ones again the future. Not just for the way it padded her bank account, either.

“Thank you. I’m really proud of that layout.”

Margie opened the door, leading them both to the porch. Annie was feeling like she’d worked out too hard, but apparently, her neighbor was just warming up.

“Let me give you the rundown.” She then proceeded to point at each house, telling Annie who lived in it.

There was no way she’d remember all of this. Margie stopped when a shiny white convertible pulled down the lane, turning into the driveway next door.

“You can skip his house on the muffin drop. Old miser never takes part in anything. I swear, Scrooge was a kinder man in his dark days than Gill on a good one.”

Gill? Nooo. As if on cue, the unfriendly, hunched man from Just Coffee got out of the vehicle that seemed way too low for him. No wonder he had back trouble.

“He’s about as friendly as a starving lion, but pay him no mind.”

Gill slammed his door shut, looked their way. Margie waved as if she’d missed him terribly, only to have him send her a growly look. If he scrunched his brows any farther, they’d simply become one.

Great. She was on muffin duty which meant learning to bake, knew more about a bunch of strangers’ ailments than anyone should, and to top all that off, she was next-door neighbors with a jerk. Somehow, the chocolate muffin didn’t seem worth the trade-off.