Finding Promise (The Promise Series, A Small Town Romance) Read Free Page A

that it was a hidden gem, if the medieval land of Cockaigne had
existed, the place of happiness and plenty, this was an Americanized version of
it probably looked like. She’d had no idea, when taking the exit less than an
hour ago, that she’d come to such a quaint, prosperous little village. Taking
the road down the hill, she noted that the town was nestled into the curve of
the bay, with the road tapering inland though the commercial hub of the town. A
beautiful, traditional town square ended the road, and in its centre, hinting
at its patriotic community, stood an immaculately maintained, white bandstand
with American flags attached, proudly waving in the breeze. A surprisingly
large selection of small and medium sized buildings seemed to offer an
assortment of wares and services, in what must be the main street. The town was
designed so that the town square was on the one end of the main street, towards
the foot of the hill that stood, protecting the bay as though nature had
created a semi-circular fort around it. The road, perpendicular to the hill led
straight to the harbor before tapering towards an attractive waterfront
development, bustling with tourists seeking respite from the heat in its shops
and restaurants. From this arterial street, smaller, narrower streets branched
off to neat homes. Nearing the waterfront, all her car’s windows rolled down
she smelled the catch of fish and the sweat of the fishermen, their boats
bobbing gently on the water, in contrast to their calls to each other, showing
off their spoils of the day. Obviously this town’s two primary sources of
income were fishing and tourism.
     
    She parked her car at the waterfront development. A sign at
the entrance announced its name, The Pavilion, and listed its rules,
restaurants and stores. The sunny weather seemed to have lured many people to
it. She could see a white, sandy strip of beach at the far side of it, bathers
dipping in and out of the ocean and people lying on bright beach towels, worshipping
the sun. Children rode their bicycles on a promenade, hollering to each other
as they engaged in what seemed to be a race. A family, walking lazily and
eating snow cones as though that was the purpose of their day, moved
effortlessly out of the way, undisturbed by the noise. A mother ran after a
toddler in a costume covered with a hooded towel, while the father looked on in
exasperation holding a beach umbrella and an assortment of things they had
deemed necessary for an outing to the beach. They must be tourists, she
thought, laughing softly at this sight. Between the promenade and the
waterfront shops was a small grassy bank with picnic tables and benches dotting
it here and there and in no orderly fashion. An elderly couple sat down, weary
from their walk in the sun and a group of adults strolled hand in hand towards
the tables, carrying picnic baskets. At the waterfront shops, a number of
restaurants lined up next to each other, occasionally interrupted by another
store. Many of the stores catered to the tourist. Parents, harassed expressions
on their faces, were followed by children gleefully carrying small bags, out of
a trinket store with sand in bottles and an uncanny amount of objects, on
display in its window. Swimming costumes and towels, in a rainbow of colours,
swayed softly in the breeze amongst buckets and spades in a beach goods store.
The store seemed so packed with stock that it gave the impression of wanting to
spill onto the pavement. A few teenage girls, being watched with unabashed
interest by a group of nearby boys, chattered their way inside, holding more
bikinis than they could possibly wear in a few years, let alone one summer. A
teenage boy was buying an ice cream for his girlfriend from a quirky stall in
front of a novelty candy store. It was the most unique ice cream stall she had
ever seen. It looked like it came straight from the 1950’s, cleverly resembling
a sugar cone basket holding globs of pink, green and