The Lakeside Inn, Leeanna Morgan [rosie project TXT] 📗

for a better life for themselves and their families, they’d left behind everything that was familiar. In a lot of ways, that’s what he was doing, too.

After he arrived in Sapphire Bay, he started looking for inspiration for a new series of paintings. While he was visiting Polson, he found a photo of a woman and her child. There was strength and humor, with a purpose so strong and sure reflected in their faces. Their personalities captured his imagination, inspiring him more than anything else he’d found.

He hoped this portrait would tell a story about what it was like to start a new life. To risk everything for a chance at happiness.

A knock on the studio’s open glass doors made him turn around. It was Ethan. “Weren’t you going to Bigfork?”

“Change of plans. Mabel’s mom’s funeral is today. Do you want to come?”

Wyatt placed his cup of coffee on the table. Since Anya, his wife, had died, he hadn’t gone to any funerals. It brought back memories he’d sooner forget. “I’ll pass, but I’ll visit Mabel next week and give her my condolences. She was the first friendly face I saw when I arrived in Sapphire Bay.”

“That’s Mabel for you.” Ethan nodded toward the painting. “How’s it going?”

“Better than I thought. It won’t win any art awards but, as far as portraits go, it isn’t too bad.”

“I’m not an expert, but it looks incredible.”

“Even though they aren’t alive?” Wyatt smiled at his friend. They’d disagreed almost immediately about who he should paint. Ethan argued that the whole point of a portrait was to capture the essence of the person. If they’d died and Wyatt didn’t know them, there was no way he would know what they were like or what was important to them.

Ethan shrugged. “I take back my misgivings, but I expect a full report on who they were.”

“That might be a little difficult.”

“Don’t tell me they never existed?”

Wyatt crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Of course, they did. But all I know about them is their first names. A lady at the Polson Museum showed me their photo. Apart from that, I don’t know why they were in Polson or what they did while they were in Montana.”

Ethan shook his head. “How do you make them appear so lifelike if you know nothing about them?”

“I have a good imagination.” Wyatt had a feeling it was more than that. He felt an odd connection to Margaret and her young daughter. Some days, the pull of their personalities was so strong he could have been painting someone he knew instead of two people who’d died many years ago.

“I spoke to Pastor John this morning,” Ethan said. “I’ve made another appointment for us to speak to him about the community art project.”

“Has he seen the latest project plan?”

“He reviewed the original one a couple of weeks ago and liked what he saw. The adjustments we made are minor and shouldn’t cause any issues.”

“If he gives us the green light, I’ll need a few weeks to get everything ready.”

“That won’t be a problem. It might give you time to finish your paintings.”

Wyatt hoped so. The opening day of his exhibition in Berlin was getting closer. “What time are we meeting Pastor John?”

“Two o’clock on Friday at The Connect Church. Is that okay?”

Wyatt picked up a pen and made a note in his daily planner. “I’ll be there.”

“Good. I’d better leave.” Ethan stepped out onto the veranda. “Enjoy painting your mystery family.”

“I will. See you later.”

Lifting his arm in a casual wave, Ethan left the house.

With a resigned sigh, Wyatt took a copy of an old photo off the wall and studied the woman and child. “Who are you?” he whispered.

And, not for the first time, he swore he heard the murmur of a voice drifting across the lake, telling him about another life in another time.

After they buried her grandma, Penny gave her family a hug and left the cemetery. She needed a few minutes on her own to process what had happened, to give herself time to breathe without someone saying they were sorry for her loss or telling her what a wonderful woman her grandmother had been.

There was only one place she wanted to be. Turning the car she’d rented toward Flathead Lake, she drove back to her grandmother’s house on Honeysuckle Lane.

When she saw the pretty two-story home, tears filled her eyes. Her granddad and grandma had spent a lot of time designing the house. It had everything they thought they’d ever need and, for many years, her grandma was happy here.

Turning off the ignition, Penny opened the car door and walked toward the lake. For her, the best part of the house was the view. It didn’t matter what time of the year she was here, each day was incredible. Today, the water was a deep, dark blue. Sunlight danced off the water lapping against the shore, sending sparkles of white light glittering along the surface.

She sat on the edge of the grassy bank. Lifting her face to the sun, she soaked in the warmth, trying to banish the icy chill that hadn’t left her since her grandma died.

Even after Diana, Katie, and Barbara arrived, she still wasn’t able to think about anything other than her grandma’s last few minutes with her. She knew she was in shock. She was grieving in a way she’d never experienced before, and the pain of her loss was almost too much to bear.

With a heavy heart, she watched a flock of birds duck and dive across the lake. She was amazed with their ability to read the air currents, to alter their course on a whim, and find food to fill their bellies.

In the distance, children shrieked with laughter, reminding her that life carried on regardless of what had happened.

She stood and, with one last look at the lake, walked toward her grandparents’ house.

Some of the shrub roses her grandma adored were in full bloom. Bright pink,