Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Yes, I’m Hank Cunningham.”
“Penny Henderson. Nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Welcome to Elmwood.”
“Thank you. I haven’t had a chance to really settle in yet, but it seems like a great little town and I—”
“Ah, I should have known you were a kiss-ass.” A gravelly voiced old woman with a halo of white hair shuffled in just then, untying an oversized apron with gnarled, shaky fingers.
“Annie!” Penny gasped in dismay, sputtering as she slid the pastry box across the counter. “I’m so sorry. I—”
“Oh, relax, Pen. This is the mill guy from Wood Hollow. He’s layin’ it on thick so we don’t boot his booty outta town.”
I grinned. “You must be Annie Mellon.”
“I am.”
Penny gave a nervous laugh. “Annie doesn’t mean any harm. Please don’t take offense.”
“Don’t tell him that. I want him to take offense,” Annie corrected, reaching for a pink coat on a wall hook near the entrance. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll be outside. I need a smoke.”
I pulled out my credit card.
“Those are on the house,” Penny insisted. “I’m sorry. Annie’s a good soul, but she’s got a big mouth.”
“I was warned. I, um…know her grandson.” Commence Operation Name Drop.
She tilted her chin curiously. “Denny?”
“Yeah, we met in Denver. We’re…friends.”
“Oh. Well, that’s great. Does Annie know you’re friends? ’Cause generally speaking, she loves Denny’s friends.”
“With any luck, she’ll like me too. Eventually.” I thanked Penny and headed outside with the box of goodies.
I found Annie on the bench where the couple had been sitting earlier. There was a decent chance she’d told them to get the fuck out of here so she could sit in peace and quiet. Denny’s story about her dressing up as the Grim Reaper at Halloween made a whole lot of sense now.
The funny thing was that she looked so…fragile…and kind of sweet in her oversized pink coat, puffing away on a cigarette.
She motioned for me to join her but kept her gaze on the fountain. “Cunningham.”
“Hank Cunningham. It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Took you long enough to come around.”
“I tried a few times, but you weren’t in,” I replied.
She blew a stream of smoke before turning to face me. “Denny told me you were a good guy. I have no reason not to believe him, and you have a nice…aura. I don’t think you’re an asshole, so welcome to Elmwood.”
I chuckled. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I opened the pastry box and held it out. “Want a cookie? I hear they’re tasty.”
Annie raised a brow. “I made that cookie. Of course it’s tasty. You can break off a piece for me if you’re inclined to share, but it’s so delicious you’ll be sorry you offered.”
“I’ll buy more.”
“And I’ll make more.” She thanked me, holding up the piece of maple leaf with her head cocked thoughtfully. “I’ve been baking those cookies for seventy-five years now.”
“Wow.”
“Long time. I’ve seen a lot in my day…in this town anyway. And I remember a Cunningham coming through these parts a while ago.”
“My dad,” I guessed. “I know he made a trip to the area five or so years ago. That must have been when he met with the Larsons.”
Annie grunted her disapproval. “Money-grubbin’ traitors. If they get bitten by gators in Florida, it’ll serve them right.”
I barked a laugh. “That’s a little harsh.”
She shrugged. “They sold their town out. I can’t tell if you’re brave or foolish for taking your dad’s place. No one likes the name Cunningham right now.”
“Do you think I should change my name?”
“Definitely.” Annie winked, brushing crumbs off her coat. “But anyone with a long memory—like me—will remember your daddy’s had his sights on this forest for thirty odd years now. Thought quite highly of himself…couldn’t believe the Larsons wouldn’t sell in the nineties.”
I cocked my head in confusion. “I knew my parents had been here together, but I didn’t know Dad wanted to buy the mill back then.”
She nodded, crushing the butt of her cigarette on the bench. “So I heard. I met your mother that trip, too. Her name is Rose, right?”
I froze. “You met my mom?”
“She was pregnant…maybe with you? I remember because my daughter was expecting at the time too. She’d just moved to Canada, and I missed her terribly. I managed the bakery in those days, like Penny does now, and I was at the counter when your parents walked in.”
I hadn’t met anyone who could tell me something new about my mother in years. Shock gave way to rabid curiosity. “Really? I—what did she say? What did she look like?”
“Long brown hair, feathered at the sides. That was the style, and she was certainly stylish. Your parents were fancy folks with nice clothes and a shiny car. I hate that shit and I wouldn’t have given them the time of day, but the pregnancy part got me. I asked a few questions and found out she was from a tiny speck of a town in Texas and was five months along. She didn’t know if she was having a boy or girl, didn’t want to know. She had one of each at home, and only prayed for a healthy child. If she had a girl, she’d name her Hannah, if she had a boy, he’d be called Henry. You must be Henry.”