New Man in Town Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  Books by Lyn Cote

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Epigraph

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dear Reader

  Copyright

  At Peter’s touch, Thea’s breath stilled.

  His hand brushed her cheek. Then, pausing as if he didn’t want to go, he walked out the door.

  Thea closed her eyes. The sound of the door closing echoed her own feeling of loss. She’d almost believed Peter’s confident prediction that everything would go smoothly with his plans.

  God, help me walk my own path this time, she prayed. I’m tired of feeling as though I can’t stand up to people.

  But, she added, don’t let me read more into Peter’s neighborly friendship than there is. Don’t let me imagine things that will never come true.

  And please, please don’t let me make a fool of myself over this new man in town.

  But then Thea touched her cheek, tracing the place where the memory of his touch lingered….

  Books by Lyn Cote

  Love Inspired

  Never Alone #30

  New Man in Town #66

  LYN COTE

  Born in Texas, raised in Illinois on the shore of Lake Michigan, Lyn now lives in Iowa with her real-life hero and their son and daughter—both teens. Lyn has spent her adult life as a teacher, then a full-time mom, now a writer.

  When she married her hero over twenty years ago, she “married” the north woods of Wisconsin, too. Recently she and her husband bought a fixer-upper cabin on a lake there. Lyn spends most of each summer sitting by the lake, writing. As she writes, her Siamese cat, Shadow, likes to curl up on Lyn’s lap to keep her company. By the way, Lyn’s last name is pronounced “Coty.”

  New Man In Town

  Lyn Cote

  He leads me beside the still waters.

  He restores my soul.

  —Psalms 23:2-3

  To Roberta,

  Thanks for believing in my writing.

  I owe you so much.

  Thanks, Uncle Paul, for the help on pipe organs.

  Who knows them better than you?

  Chapter One

  Over the phone line, Mrs. Chiverton’s breathless voice grated on Thea’s nerves like spilled sand underfoot. “Now just look out your west window, dear, and let me know what you can see. I’m sure somebody is there now.”

  Picturing the frail, prissy woman who lived across the lake looking out her window with binoculars, Thea gripped the receiver. Tension spiked up her arm and she flicked her long, single braid off her shoulder.

  Why did Mrs. Chiverton have to call and designate her as spy for the day? Weren’t the old lady’s binoculars in good working order? Thea hated the sin of gossip, but she doubted that she, “a youngster of twenty-four”, could ever change the woman who’d spent twice Thea’s lifetime as the eyes and ears of Lake Lowell. She dutifully looked out the window as instructed.

  Parked along the border of her own property amid the towering evergreens, still-bare trees and patches of white April snow, Thea picked out a red truck. The vehicle was plainly visible to her—as it was to her elderly neighbor. That meant the old lady was really fishing for confirmation of what she’d already glimpsed through her trusty old “binocs.”

  Thea pushed down her irritation. After all, Mrs. Chiverton was just a lonely, old woman. “I see a truck,” she reported blandly.

  “You do? I’m so concerned. No one seems to know what kind of people the Kramers up and sold the camp to, but there are rumors already. Someone said they may have sold it to a cult or something.”

  “Why would you think that?” Thea controlled her tone, keeping it unconcerned. “There’s been a lucrative boys’ camp there for as long as I can remember. What would make you think there would be a change?”

  “Why, they sold without a word to any of us. After all those years living here. Something’s fishy.”

  “I’m sure nothing unusual is going on.”

  “Strange things happen every day, Althea. Ever since your grandmother moved to the retirement center, I feel I ought to look out for you. Now, you live the closest. If the new people need anything, they’ll come to you. Maybe they’ll need directions or something.”

  Thea heard a car pull up to her back door. Relief filled her. “My next piano student has arrived. I have to hang up now.”

  “See what you can find out, won’t you, dear?”

  So that’s why she called me. I’m the most likely source of the fast-breaking news. “I’ll see.”

  She hung up, then spoke to Tomcat, her striped gray tabby, who sat at her feet. “I’ll see, but I won’t talk.” Mentally brushing away her exasperation, she walked the short distance across her sunny kitchen. Tom followed her. Thea looked down. “Tomcat, do you think people in a cult gossip about each other?”

  Tomcat meowed companionably.

  “I don’t plan on spying, but I will keep an eye out for the new neighbors. They deserve, at least, one pleasant welcome.” Fleetingly the hope that the newcomer might be male, young and unmarried glimmered and died. No one interesting ever moved to the lake. A commotion outside drew her to the back door.

  Turning the knob, Thea opened the door to—chaos. Outside, her golden retriever, Molly, yelped in an unusually frantic pitch.

  Nan Johnson and her daughter, Tracy, ran toward Thea. Both shouted to be heard, but Molly’s furious howling drowned out their voices.

  Thea tried to pick up clues on what had caused the crisis, but was at a loss. “Quiet. Sit” Silenced, Molly obeyed.

  Little Tracy yelled, “Miss Glenheim, Poodles got hurt in the car! I didn’t mean to!”

  Thea surveyed the ten-year-old whose face was flushed.

  “What happened?”

  “I was playing—”

  Nan Johnson cut in, her voice raspy with emotion. “On the way here Tracy was hugging Poodles too tightly. The dog decided to jump out of her arms, one front claw got caught in her sweater sleeve—”

  “It pulled his toe back too far! It made him cry.” Tracy started to sniffle.

  Thea stuttered, “But what can I—”

  “The toe is dislocated. I can’t wait” Nan’s voice cracked. “He’s in terrible pain. I have to get to the vet now. Can I leave the twins with you?”

  “But—” Leave me alone with two-year-old twins? Thea started to panic.

  “They’re sound asleep. Nothing but a bomb will wake them. I can’t leave them in the van while I’m at the vet’s! If you’ll help me carry them in, they’ll sleep through Tracy’s piano lesson. Please!”

  A muffled but frantic whine filtered from inside the van. Its painful pitch cut right through Thea’s heart, disintegrating her normal reserve. “I’ll help you get them inside.”

  Nan said, “Thank you! I didn’t want Tracy to miss another lesson.”

  Pulling the front of her bulky off-white cardigan closed and tying the belt to keep out the chill, Thea followed the woman and warily watched her unhook the first twin boy from his car seat. She couldn’t remember when she’d last held a child. She awkwardly accepted the small body and was surprised at the dead weight of a sleeping child in her arms.

  Nan suggested, “If we can just lay them down, they sho
uld still be asleep when I return.”

  Poodles’ whimpering crescendoed. Spurred by worry for the suffering dog and careful of her burden, Thea hurried inside and led the mother to the spare room off the kitchen. Thea pulled the quilt from the bed onto the floor and they laid the boys on it. Then Thea and Nan unzipped the boys’ snowsuits, one fireengine red, the other bright royal blue.

  As Nan hustled out the door, she called back, “Once I know Poodles is out of pain, I’ll come right back.”

  Thea watched her go, feeling suddenly bereft. One of the ways Thea attracted and kept students was the fact that in snow season, she gave lessons in her students’ homes, saving their parents the trouble of going out in marginal weather. She recalled how often in winter Nan had invited her to stay for a cup of tea and a chat after she’d given Tracy a piano lesson. Many winter days it had been the only satisfying adult conversation she’d had.

  She eyed the babies. Two soft chubby faces; golden eyelashes to match the curls at their foreheads. Precious, natural cherubs. They certainly hadn’t stirred through the coming-in. But what should she do if they woke up?

  Still sniffling softly, Tracy met Thea in the kitchen.

  Thea paused. She usually discussed only music with her students. “You’re going to have to be strong. Crying doesn’t change things.” That didn’t sound very kind.

  How could she comfort this child who obviously felt so guilty? Give me the words, Lord, kind words. She bent down to bring her face to Tracy’s eye level and softened her voice, “Poodles knows you’d never hurt him on purpose.”

  “I made him cry. I never heard a dog cry before.” Fresh tears oozed up and spilled down round cheeks.

  Thea patted Tracy’s shoulder. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you go wash your hands and face in the powder room, then come out to the piano. I have some new music I’ll play for you.”

  “Powder room?” Tracy looked puzzled.

  Thea gave a rueful grin. “That’s what my grandmother calls the spare bathroom off the kitchen.” Being raised by a grandparent had many drawbacks. One was using words common to an older generation. In childhood, it had tripped Thea up more than once.

  “Okay.” Tracy headed toward the bathroom.

  Thea entered her living room and sat down at her dark mahogany baby grand piano. She gazed through the triangle created by the open piano cover to the French doors beyond. The scene of wintry lake, still partially sealed with ice, stretched out before her. Regardless of the limitations of her life, she never tired of the beautiful and refreshing setting she’d been blessed with at birth. Azure, forest green, pristine white—she savored the colors.

  For a moment, she imagined the sounds that would soon revitalize the scene: the fanfare of robins, the bellow of bullfrogs. Her fingers touched the keys and magically the quiet room filled with the presence of Chopin.

  She felt Tracy mount the piano bench, scoot over, then lean against her. When Thea sensed one last gasp shudder through the child, she nearly put her arm around the little girl, but she didn’t want to break the soothing spell of the music.

  In the background, Thea heard her golden retriever, Molly, come through the dog entry built into the kitchen door. The dog padded into the living room and lay down on the braided rug near Thea’s feet. Her gray-striped Tomcat appeared from some hiding place and leaped up to sit beside the little girl.

  “Kitty,” Tracy murmured, then reached out one finger and touched the cat’s pink nose.

  Like liquid balm, the music coursed from Thea’s memory, through her heart and out her fingertips. “Tracy, I’m playing Chopin’s ‘Raindrop Prelude.’ Listen for the drops of rain in the bass.”

  “I hear them. They’re getting faster.”

  “Yes, the storm is drawing closer, louder.”

  “Like a thunderstorm?”

  “Yes, listen for the thunder.” The tempo picked up, followed by quick, strong chords—booming full, sharp.

  “I hear it! It’s just like a big storm over the lake!”

  “Now what’s happening?”

  The volume began to soften, the steady rhythm slowed. “The storm’s moving away.”

  “That’s right. Finally all that’s left is drops falling from leaves.” Thea tapped out the steady drip-drip notes, then finished on a chord vibrating with subtlety which only heightened its impact. “This is the new piece you were to start today.”

  Tracy’s eyes widened. “Isn’t it too hard for me?”

  “I played the original piece I memorized long ago. I have a simplified version for you to learn.” She lifted a piece of sheet music from the piano top. “Want to try it?”

  Tracy nodded vigorously. “I want to memorize it.”

  This surprised and pleased Thea. Tracy never wanted to memorize. Moments like this when Thea connected with a student through her music eased the loneliness she lived with daily. Her mind turned again to the possibility of a new neighbor, maybe someone younger than seventy and interesting. Please, Lord, is that too much to ask?

  Thea touched Tracy’s arm. “Well, let’s see if you feel that way when you’ve mastered it. I’d never ask you to memorize a piece of music you don’t love.”

  “I love this one already.”

  Thea nodded. She never tired of its bold theme which translated the beauty of God’s world into dramatic sound.

  Soon she sat concentrating on Tracy who proudly displayed her progress with her finger exercises. The rest of the lesson passed smoothly.

  Near the end, Molly whined and stood up, turning toward the kitchen. She woofed once.

  Thea turned her head in time to see a roll of white toilet paper unravel as it passed by the kitchen doorway. “What?” She leaped from her place, dashing to the next room. “Oh, my!”

  One twin, half in and half out of his puffy blue snowsuit, had settled in front of the refrigerator fingerpainting it with wet cat food from the nearby cat’s bowl.

  Another roll of toilet paper zoomed past Thea’s toes. She glanced at the powder room in time to see the other twin, with his bright red snowsuit bunched around his ankles, drop a full roll into the toilet bowl. “Stop!”

  She rushed into the bathroom and grabbed up the baby who began shrieking at her intrusion. Baby shrieks were uncommon in her single life and made shock waves reverberate through her—like the thunder chords she’d just played. “Tracy, help!”

  Running into the kitchen, the little girl met Thea in front of the refrigerator. “Naughty baby!” She shook her finger at her “painting” brother. “No, no!”

  Grinning at his big sister, he chortled and licked his finger.

  “Oh!” Horrified, Thea tried to think. Can a child get ill eating cat food?

  Molly barked at the door giving her signal that someone had arrived. Thank goodness, Nan’s back! She threw the door open and shouted over the baby’s shrieks, “One of the twins ate cat food! What should I do?”

  Thea’s breath caught in her throat.

  Not Nan. A handsome man—a tall, dark, young handsome man—stood staring at her. Behind him, a crimson truck was parked. My new neighbor! He’ll think I’m insane. She longed to disappear with the ease of a perfect grace note.

  “Cat food?” He looked puzzled. “Don’t they all try that? Why not just give him a drink of water to wash out his mouth?”

  She took a step back. “Water. That’s a good idea.” She hurried to the stainless steel sink, turning on the faucet and reaching for a white paper cup from the dispenser.

  The stranger stepped inside, letting the storm door close behind him. Molly whined at him. “Don’t worry, girl. I’m harmless.” He stooped and picked up the “fingerpainting” twin from the floor.

  Thea turned and put the cup to the mouth of the baby in the blue snowsuit he held.

  The stranger grinned. “Twins—wow. You and your husband must have your hands full.”

  Words flew out of her mouth. “I’m not married.”

  She dropped the cup.

 
Deprived of his drink, the blue-suited twin howled again.

  “There, there, little guy, save that screaming for something really big.” The stranger stepped past her and poured another cup of water. After taking a sip, the twin in his arms quieted.

  With a start, Thea realized she’d been gawking at the stranger, letting her red-suited twin wail. “There, there, little guy,” she mimicked. The twin she held rocked, strained, and stretched his arms toward his brother. “What’s the matter?”

  “Maybe he’s thirsty?” Her new neighbor smiled.

  This idea brought a new worry. Please, God, I hope the baby didn’t drink any toilet water. A glance at the powder room reassured her that the twin’s short legs had kept him from that disaster. But he might have fallen into it. Babies can drown that way. “I always knew I wasn’t cut out to be a mother,” she muttered unconsciously.

  She looked up to see him staring at her, dark brows raised in a questioning expression.

  His incorrect assumption unnerved her further. A furious blush spread through her in hot waves. What a great first impression she was making!

  She turned briskly to the sink and filled a cup with water for the red-suited twin she held. She said with her back to the man, “These aren’t mine.” She nodded over her shoulder toward Tracy. “I’m their sister’s piano teacher.”

  “Then why…?” He looked down at the twins and his expression communicated that he didn’t understand why baby-sitting went with piano teaching.

  “Poodles got hurt,” Tracy explained earnestly, looking up at the man. “Mama had to take him to the vet right away.”

  Thea frowned. “Tracy is one of my students, here for a music lesson,” she explained. “These two are her brothers, who were supposed to finish their nap on my spare bedroom floor.”

  He laughed.

  The rich bass sound flared, making Thea think of bronzed August sunshine breaking through the tall pines. He jiggled the baby in his arms playfully. “My mom always says, ‘With kids, expect the unexpected.”