Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Tiffany clasped her arm, stopping her. “Look. While we’re alone, I’d like to talk to you about something.” A mix of dread and entreaty etched her expression, and Jane stiffened. “I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I believe it might be fun for me to, um, move in. To the Garden. Of Memories. With you. I can learn more about the cemetery and my relatives.”
Ah. Okay. Things suddenly made sense. The rumors about the widow’s finances must be true. She needed a place to live and was desperate enough to spend precious funds to gain Beau’s company. The only way to arrange a true face-to-face with Jane.
“First, you nicknamed me Cemetery Girl as a kid and convinced our fellow students I’m too weird to befriend. Now you wish to live among the dead? Why would you ever think I’d say yes? Second, we aren’t family.”
“First,” the beautiful brunette echoed, squaring her shoulders, “you are the one who convinced the kids of your weirdness. Not me. Second, we share a great-grandfather. How is that not a blood relation?”
Gah! Truth was truth, and there was no way around it. But. “A so-called blood relation doesn’t make a family.” Neither of Jane’s parents had wanted her. Her dad fled before she was born and phoned her every so often when he remembered her existence. Her mom shipped her to Pops and Grandma Lily one summer and never came for her.
Jane and Pops used to work puzzles together and watch mysteries. Lily taught her how to cook and garden. Losing them one after the other still hurt. They’d left a gaping hole in Jane’s heart. But a family of her own making had helped patch it. Fiona and her boyfriend, the retiring Sheriff Raymond Moore. Conrad, Beau and Trick, plus their other buds, Holden and Isaac. And, of course, the glue that held everyone in place, Rolex, the world’s most perfect guard cat.
“You only want to move in so you can search for gold.” The widow wasn’t the only victim of the rumor mill. Too many townspeople believed an old caretaker at the cemetery had buried his loot in coffins.
Jane had to deal with gold hunters sneaking about, digging up graves and destroying her pristine grounds. And yes, okay, having a roommate help out would be nice. Just not Tiff. Anyone but Tiff.
“Think it over. Please.” The other woman raised her chin. “Obviously, I don’t know how to fight the Ladling curse. Maybe you can, and I’m just spit balling here, help me.”
She sighed. Tiffany wasn’t lying about the curse. A dead husband and incarcerated fiancé were the proof in the pudding. “How is it you think I can help you?”
“Considering your relationship with Conrad, you’ve become an expert at overlooking looming doom. If I can do the same, maybe I can be happy again.”
Jane ground her teeth. “We aren’t doomed.” Granted, a familiar fear attempted to resurge at times, but dang it, she trusted Conrad to stick. At Christmas, she’d promised him a chance to demonstrate it.
Want different results, do something different.
The widow soldiered on, slipping right past the denial. “Plus, I can be a huge benefit to Conrad’s campaign. Watch and see.” She pasted a fake smile on her face and knocked on the door. “I’ll convince whoever lives here to vote for your boyfriend.”
“The competition lives here,” Jane squealed, two ideas battling to the death inside her mind. Run vs Stay. In the end, stay won. She attempted to cobble together an excuse to offer the deputy. Hi, sir. We’re voting for Conrad in the coming election, but we’re trespassing on your private property for a good reason–heart health. The heart health of the town.
“My bad,” Tiffany said, paling. “Should we bail?”
“Of course not. We’ll appear guilty of something.” Stomach churning, she glanced over her shoulder. Fiona and Beau still hustled about, gathering papers. So, Jane did it. She knocked with more force than her companion. “Let me do the talking.”
Wait. The deputy’s door swung open, hinges creaking, revealing—huh. An empty foyer.
A burning, metallic scent wafted from inside. Jane frowned as an unwelcome sensation slithered down her spine. “Deputy Gunn?” she called, remaining in the entryway while scanning the inside of his house.
Nothing seemed out of place. Everything was clean. Above a side table, two holes broke the smooth eggshell white wall. The plaster edges appeared singed. Beyond that, six large manila folders formed a line across the carpet, as if placed there on purpose. An equal number of purple envelopes were stacked on the coffee table. A sleek, black camera with a pop-up flash and rubberized eyepiece rested on a leather couch, the LCD screen active. Almost looked like a behind-the-scenes sting operation in action.
Then Jane spied an unmoving leg. “Deputy Gunn!” She rushed inside in case he required aid, only to come to an abrupt stop. A groan parted her lips. Crimson wet a gash on the side of his head. His eyes stared faraway, his features relaxed. An expression she knew all too well. But maybe…maybe he was just dazed?