King of the Lake: Strawberry Falls, #4

By Jennifer Anderson

Living in a small town, everybody knows your business. Unfortunately for Allison Carver, some people can't forget.

When a lapse in good judgment lands her in the public eye, her parents force her to seek guidance from the local minister. After several months, she begins to forgive herself while her parents seem to keep her mistakes front and center.

Allison escapes to Strawberry Fields Lake where she gets a waitressing job at Strawberry Fields Lodge's restaurant. Lack of identity among the summer tourists offers relief, allowing her to feel normal. Taking the order of a summer guest launches her into a dilemma. Does she follow her heart and allow her feelings to mature for a guy she just met? Or risk the wrath of her father while he sits on his throne overlooking the lake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Anderson
• Release date: Jul 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393306658

Book preview

King of the Lake

By

Jennifer Anderson

Strawberry Fields

King of the Lake

Copyright © 2013, Jennifer Anderson

Editor, Wendy Williams

Cover Art Design by KJ Jacobs

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden, without the written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

DEDICATION

For my family. Thank you for putting up with the crazy. I love you.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I’m a little sad to see my series end. The journey since Ice Princess has been a wonderful ride. Thank you to my family for your support. Without it, none of this would matter.

Thank you, Julie, for not only introducing me to TMP but for also holding my hand while we wrote incredible stories about this wonderful town.

Thank you, Wendy, for pushing me and keeping me on target.

And finally, Kim. Thank you for taking a chance on a silly girl from Missouri.

REVIEWS

Praise for Prince Charming

It’s refreshing to read a teen book that keeps it on a more innocent level with good kids in a small mid-west town. This book reminded me a lot of the types of books I used to read as a teenager. I’ll definitely be looking for the next one and will be recommending them to my nieces.

~4.5 Stars, Jasmine, Long and Short Reviews

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Praise for Ice Princess

It is a wonderfully emotional short story with just the right balance of sweetness and sadness. I recommend it to anyone who relishes a charming story of love and friendship.

~4 Stars, Poinsetta, Long and Short Reviews

"Ms. Anderson has done a remarkable job at capturing the tough emotions associated with change and death. There are few authors that I know of that can take such a taboo emotion and push its limits so that any reader can feel and understand what Mya is going through.

Ice Princess is a beautiful novella that I will most definitely recommend to my friends and associates."

~4.5 Ravens, Rebecca, Blackraven Reviews

KING OF THE LAKE

Living in a small town, everybody knows your business. Unfortunately for Allison Carver, some people can’t forget.

When a lapse in good judgment lands her in the public eye, her parents force her to seek guidance from the local minister. After several months, she begins to forgive herself while her parents seem to keep her mistakes front and center.

Allison escapes to Strawberry Fields Lake where she gets a waitressing job at Strawberry Fields Lodge’s restaurant. Lack of identity among the summer tourists offers relief, allowing her to feel normal. Taking the order of a summer guest launches her into a dilemma. Does she follow her heart and allow her feelings to mature for a guy she just met? Or risk the wrath of her father while he sits on his throne overlooking the lake.

Chapter One

YES, MOM. UH HUH. I nodded with my cell phone rested between my shoulder and ear. Okay. I’ll come home right after... Right, I know, I will.

My mother still treated me as a child. I’d given her a good reason, but that was a year ago. Even I tried to let it go.

Love you too. Bye. I pushed end. I slicked some gloss across my lips, looked in the mirror to make sure nothing was in my teeth and exited my car.

Summer didn’t officially start for a few more weeks, yet the mid-morning sun beat against my bare neck. Gravel crunched beneath my white tennis shoes as I made my way to the front of the restaurant at Strawberry Fields Lodge.

A bell dinged when I pulled the door wide. A pleasant breeze of cold air, with the scent of bacon, pancakes and apple pie brushed against my face. I savored the moment before I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

The restaurant at the lodge overlooked Strawberry Fields Lake, hosting a breakfast, lunch and dinner menu. I planned on keeping a low profile all summer until my junior year started, but my parents thought I needed to socialize more. What they didn’t realize was I wouldn’t have minded spending a quiet summer at home catching up on my to-be-read list.

Hello. What can I getcha, hun? Shirley Jacobs asked from her position behind the counter. She had her black hair pulled tight into a bun behind her head. Her white shirt tucked into black pants topped with a red apron.

I’d like an application please. I took a seat at the counter.

Sure. You have any waitressing experience?

I shook my head. The closest I’d ever gotten to serving people was when I made my parents breakfast in bed. I’d managed to serve their food on a tray without spilling coffee or juice. I considered that a win. But I’m a fast learner, and I know you’re always lookin’ to hire summer help.

I didn’t want to beg, but anything was possible.

Heck, I understood firsthand about impossible situations becoming possible.

Well, she threw a dishtowel over her shoulder before she bent behind the counter. I guess it couldn’t hurt to have you fill out an application. Go on over to one of the booths and fill it out. Ice clinked into a glass before she added water. Here. Take this with ya. It’s already hot out there, and I don’t need anyone passing out on me. Looks bad to customers.

I gathered my application and water and slid into a booth. With pen in hand, I set to work filling out all my vital information. Name, address, birthday and education. All answers I knew without thinking. When I came to the reference section, I paused. The only person I could put down was my father. Last summer, I’d worked as a lifeguard at the lake and my father was in charge of the program. Everybody knew my father. I wondered if it looked bad putting his name down.

Thinking, I began to tap out the beat to the latest Scotty McCreery song playing from the speakers hung around the room. I glanced out the window at the lake, hoping it offered some guidance. Realizing I had no other choice, I scribbled his name and gave my application one last look.

Allison Carver? Oh my goodness, girl. I thought that was you when you came in asking for an application. I haven’t seen you all year. Where have you been hiding yourself? Shirley asked when she started going over my application.

She was right. I hadn’t been around much this past year. Besides schoolwork keeping me busy, an embarrassing situation my parents still reminded me of had kept me out of the social scene in Strawberry Fields. To be honest, the social scene wasn’t thrilling, but I was gone nevertheless.

Oh, you know, I’ve been busy.

Well, she looked down at the paper in her hand, turning it over, everything seems okay, and I often hire girls with no experience. But you have to be on time, with your hair up and your clothes clean. Do you think you can manage that every day?

Sure. Does that mean I get the job? I tried to tone down the silly girl squeal building up inside. I hadn’t been thrilled with the prospect of getting a summer job, but the idea of keeping my mind focused on other things besides the events of the last school year held promise. Plus, time away from my parents’ watchful eyes didn’t hurt either.

Now, hold up. I need to make sure that once the weather heats up and it’s hotter than an oven outside, you aren’t going to up and quit so you can spend time sun bathing on the beach with the boys.

I turned back toward the lake. A few boats scattered across the water. Fishing lines dotted the edge. Shirley was right. Soon the heat would be so intense; often it felt like your skin could melt off. The lake water chilled enough to offer relief. But I wasn’t interested in spending time with my fellow classmates. In fact, the prospect of being around Strawberry Fields tourists appealed more to me than beach fun. I could handle the occasional visit from my parents stopping in for lunch, but most of the local kids wouldn’t bother with the restaurant if they were on the beach and hungry. A few years back, the park built a small snack stand closer to the water for those last minute munchies. Most kids shopped there, trying not to leave the water’s edge.

I’m sure.

All right. Come back tomorrow at nine ready to work. She disappeared behind a swinging door and reappeared a few minutes later. In her hands she held two white shirts, two pairs of black pants and a red apron. If everything goes well, we’ll order you a name tag. Now go on and enjoy your last day of freedom.

When I left the restaurant, I stopped a minute to enjoy the view. Strawberry Fields Lake, established in the 70s as a way of water control. The man-made lake was a happy place for so many residents in Strawberry Fields. Folks on boats bobbed around, enjoying the last few days of mild temperatures. Tall trees lined the perimeter, offering hikers shade from the sun. Closer to the water, a billowing willow tree swayed in the breeze. I couldn’t help notice how different the area around the lake appeared from the rest of town. Rows and rows of corn filled the spaces between houses yet not a stalk could be seen here unless you stood atop the dam. It was like another place.

My eyes continued to take in the scenery when I noticed noises coming from the left. Cabins and the lodge lined the edge of the lake. The rental properties hosted many tourists in our small patch of the world. There wasn’t anything like a little country charm to bring people flocking. Amish sightings didn’t hurt either. Horse drawn buggies were always a reason to stop and marvel.

Already families were moving in to the cabins. Vans and cars chocked full of summer equipment lined the driveways. Another reason working at the lodge proved an interesting option. Tourists. No one knew me. Sure, town regulars would filter in all summer long, but a majority of the seasonal business came from our town’s visitors. Locals tried to avoid certain areas because of the all the newcomers. We weren’t afraid. Far from it. We weren’t fond of traffic. With only one light in town, there tended to be back-ups.

After a few minutes of watching our visitors unpack their belongings, I realized I wasn’t the only one staring. I blinked. Standing along the edge of one of the smaller cabins stood a guy. Clad in black, he leaned against his summer home. I couldn’t be sure, but he appeared to be watching me.

I gathered my things, turned and walked toward my car. I glanced down at my watch.

Crap. I had an appointment with Mitchell Fallon, the pastor at the Methodist church. I needed to run by the house first, but if I was late, my mother was going to kill me.

I threw my stuff in the car. The engine of my Honda Civic purred to life before I bolted from the gravel lot. A small spray of rocks followed, and I waited for them to land on another car. Nothing. I was thankful for small miracles.

By the time I pulled into town, bumped across the tracks and stopped at our lone light, my nerves were amped. My foot and fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm. I hung my arm out the window, feeling the sun’s rays against my bare skin. Soon, small moments like this wouldn’t be as nice. Summers in Strawberry Fields were hot. Beyond hot. But I couldn’t help enjoy the celebrations the season