Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57502 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57502 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Some of the town’s people thought they were moving too fast, as evidenced by the smattering of posts Jane had read on the Headliner, the best source for community updates, either online or in print. In between speculation about the magical, cure-all ingredient in the chicken noodle soup from Daisy’s Diner and the identity of an unnamed local man who’d supposedly won a ton of money in the lottery, she discovered references to the new sheriff needing to take time to date around before settling down with “Cemetery Girl.”
Had she and Conrad met a little less than a year ago? Yes. Had she run from her feelings for him in the past? Also yes. Was she at war with a self-fulfilling, generational love curse? For sure.
Fall in love and lose the guy. Marry him and watch him die.
But Jane had decided. Never again would she make a decision based on fear, the curse’s sole power source. In turn, joy proved to be its greatest weakness. She wanted Conrad, and so she would have him. No one gave her more joy. The curse didn’t stand a chance.
You’ll regret this, the curse whispered in the back of her mind.
Jane didn’t hesitate. Zip it, liar. I’ll regret nothing!
“Ugh. She’s staring at the ring and smiling again,” Tiffany muttered, earning a merry laugh from Fiona. “We’ll have to wait another hour for her to regain her senses. At least! And I don’t understand why. I’ve been married once and engaged twice, but I never looked at my rings the way she does.”
Jane forced herself to focus. Because pancakes. “To the house we go!”
Beau and Fiona chuckled while the widow pumped her ringless fist in the air and jumped with excitement. Together, their foursome hiked over the rolling hills until reaching a cobblestone path. The family cottage came into view. A two-story beauty with a wrap-around porch and windows bracketed by blue shutters. The protesting wooden steps and creaking screen door created music she’d enjoyed even as a little girl.
Inside, Jane scanned the living room for Rolex, her precious fur-child and incomparable guard cat. No sign of him, but as always when she entered her childhood home, memories of Grandma Lily and Pops overwhelmed her. Each piece of furniture sang with their history. From the crushed orange velvet couch to the scarred end tables now covered with metal dies, a hand crank embossing machine and weeding tools. Bits of colorful paper were scattered over the hardwood floor.
Tiffany had a new hobby of her own. Card making.
Fiona, a frequent guest at the cottage, went straight to the kitchen to get started on those cakes. Tiffany got busy picking up the fallen papers. Beau sank onto the couch to answer business emails. When Rolex made his grand entrance, trotting around a corner, he aimed directly for Tiffany. The widow scooped him up and gave him all the kisses he desired. And he desired many, apparently. He purred and soaked up the attention.
Jane felt as if a million needles knifed her entire body, and she wasn’t exaggerating or being dramatic. To see her first fur-child grow into a gorgeous young man mature enough to gift his affections to another woman, well, it was as awful as it was wonderful. Her heart overflowed with love, joy and hurt. What about me?
“I have a meeting in town after breakfast, followed by lunch with Conrad,” she announced, walking over to shower Rolex with her kisses. If cats could blush with embarrassment and give their mothers a look, he did. “Since no one needs me–” she paused, waiting, but no protests erupted. Very well. “I’ll go get cleaned up.”
“Don’t worry. Rolex and I will be great,” the widow said without a care. “Right, sugar pie?”
Sugar pie? As if such a distinguished gentlecat would ever agree to such a squishy nickname.
“What meeting?” Beau asked, frowning at Jane. “And why did your tone go all super villainy when you mentioned it?”
“Don’t be silly. My tone was as sweet as usual. And I’ll tell you all about the meeting tomorrow.” So far, she’d only told Conrad. Her friends would insist on coming, and she was nervous enough already.
Amid Beau’s groans and protests, Jane made her way upstairs. She shut herself in her room, showered, and donned a three-quarter sleeve fit and flare dress that provided lasting coverage in case the temperature dropped. March in Georgia was fickle. To complete the look, she grabbed a hat. The trim around the brim matched the lilac print of her dress. Perfect, yes, but was it perfect enough?
The most astounding thing had happened. Jane recently received a fancy gold embossed invitation to speak at a hush-hush murder mystery book club for writers. The gig came with a promise of twenty dollars! Considering she might be the foremost unofficial detective around here, well, she was obviously going to dazzle.