Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
“That didn’t do it, hmm?” he said, sounding shocked.
Okay, so, this definitely hurt her more than it hurt him. Finally her mental punishment countdown clock ran out and she blurted, “You’ve earned a penalty!” The words exploded from her.
“What’d I do this time?” he demanded.
“You taunted the darling woman who’s only trying to teach you valuable life lessons. Such as spilling all secrets to her always. But don’t worry, you won’t suffer with my silence this time. I—Wait! I just remembered something I need a few aisles over. Be a dear and grab me a box of wool tampons with wings. I’ll be right back.”
As he stood there, blinking at her, she rushed off with the cart to fetch…something. Anything to hide the smile attempting to grow over her face. Good luck with your search, tiger.
Oh, lookie there. Limited edition pumpkin pie biscuits for pets. She grabbed two boxes. The little sugars in her life should have a holiday feast of their own.
“Jade Ladling!” A familiar female voice rang out. “Agent Ryan said you’d be here.”
She sucked in a breath and spun. “Tiffany Hotchkins.”
The widow stormed over, tennis shoes squeaking on the yellow laminate. Never had she appeared so rumpled. Dark hair falling from a sloppy bun. Shirt wrinkled and stained beneath her coat, and loose pajama pants. A purse dangled from one arm. She held a yellowed sheet of paper.
“I was so desperate to prove you wrong,” she lamented the second she paused in front of Jane. “I dug through storage, tore apart the attic as well as the basement, and searched every box of family heirlooms. I even contacted distant relatives to collect whatever they had. You know what I found?” Tiffany waved the paper between them. “Letters.”
“Is that potato chip dust in your hair?” Jane asked.
“Your stupid great grandfather wrote to my great grandmother. They talked about running away and raising the baby together. What if the baby was his, Jane?” she shrieked. “What if we are, in fact, related?”
Oh…yikes. Affair between Benjamin and Elise confirmed. Wild speculation about being distantly related to a mortal enemy likely.
“They also talked about his hunt for gold,” Tiffany continued at a softer volume. Her eyes narrowed with speculation. “That is why you’re doing this, isn’t it? You aren’t going after my family fortune. You’re going after your own. Which might also be mine.”
“Jane,” Beau called, saving her from having to think up a response.
Both Tiffany and Jane whipped toward him. He stood at the end of the aisle, holding two different boxes of tampons, not the least bit embarrassed. “Neither is wool, and there’s nothing with wings. You okay with organic? And do you want super plus or small?”
What she wanted to do was to go back in time and shake some sense into her great grandfather Benjamin. Barring that, she’d have to settle for finding his gold.
CHAPTER SIX
Geese aren’t the smartest of animals but even they know to get to a-laying and start a family
–Lily Ladling’s Holiday Advice for Ladies Cursed in Love
Jane parked her hearse in front of the cottage, next to a compact SUV she didn’t recognize. Great. A mysterious visitor when she needed to focus on finding Benjamin’s treasure, ensuring Tiffany didn’t beat her to it. The very reason Jane had made a brief stop at the museum on the way home. Just a two second pop in to ask an employee about any donkey art, and yes, she’d dragged Beau along. Turned out to be a dead end, unfortunately.
She spotted an older woman sitting on a porch rocker. Not someone she’d ever encountered before. And also not the rocker where she’d found the body of poor Ana Irons. That one had been donated to charity after a thorough cleaning.
“I’ll handle the groceries,” Beau said, unbuckling. “You handle the intruder.”
“You mean you aren’t going to frisk her for weapons first?” she teased, then tsked under her tongue. “Wow. Slacking on the job, Harden. And to think, you usually go the extra mile.”
He snorted. “I think you can handle a little old lady.”
They both emerged into the chilly afternoon. Jane hurried up the steps, approaching the visitor, who had a curly cap of salt and pepper hair. “Hello. I’m the owner and operator of Garden of Memories. How may I help you?”
“Hello.” A warm, sunny smile bloomed, erasing ten years from the guest’s age. “I’m Susan Albertson. You must be Jane.”
“Yes. That’s me. I am she. Her. No, I’m pretty sure it’s she.” She offered a little wave. “How may I help you?”
Beau strode past them carrying what looked to be a thousand cloth sacks of groceries at once, making Jane think she should insist he tag along on every shopping excursion from now on. He nodded to Ms. Albertson, saying, “Ma’am.” By some miracle, he managed to open the front door before Jane could rush over to help.