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)
Both women gasped; they glanced up in unison. Tiffany slammed the book closed. Jane pounced, snatching the tome before the widow realized her intentions, and clutched it to her chest. With a fiery glare, she dared anyone to try and take it from her.
Tiffany lifted her chin, bristling with defiance. “If we’re related, half of the gold belongs to me.”
“First of all, the gold is gone,” Jane informed her. “Benjamin vanished with it the very night he believed he’d deciphered the code.” Maybe. Probably.
Abigail radiated pure smugness. “That’s what you think.”
Tiffany elbowed her friend, the tried and true “you said too much” gesture. She refocused squarely on Jane. “Look. I found Elise’s letters to Benjamin mixed in with his letters to her. She wrote that her husband knew about her affair, and he was out for Benjamin’s blood. And obviously, great granddaddy succeeded, because how else would Elise get her own letters back?”
So…what? Tiffany’s ancestor murdered Jane’s ancestor before he got his hands on the gold? Like, great Grandpa Dansing had snatched great Grandpa Ladling straight from the caretaker’s office as he composed his final entry in his own journal? Then, in the aftermath, Dansing found the stash of letters and took them to shame his wife–or hide her shame?
Hmm. A good story, but something didn’t sit right. Jane’s gut said, Keep digging.
“Or,” she said, “Elise planned to kill Benjamin so she framed her husband, then stole the letters so that no one would ever learn her secret.”
The widow and her friend humphed. “Either way, there could be a stash of gold on your property,” Tiffany said. “Or rather, our property.”
Abigail smirked again. “As a soon-to-be co-owner, Tiff will have every right to do whatever she wants to the place, whenever she wants.”
“Does she want half the bills, too?” Jane snapped. Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Oh my goodness! Her mouth floundered open and closed, words dying in her throat. A thought hit her like a wrecking ball, and she stumbled back. No. No, no, no. It couldn’t be verified yet. But…
The possibility seemed more and more likely.
She swallowed a groan. Tiffany Hotchkins must be a Ladling. Look at her luck with men. She had loved her husband…and he’d died. She later thought she’d found the true love of her life…and she’d lost him when he’d turned out to be a heartless murderer.
Who needed a DNA test with proof this solid? She’s cursed.
Just like me. And Jane had just asked Conrad on a date. Cold fingers of fear crept up her spine, closing around her mind. But she shook her head, hard. No. No! She wasn’t doing this again. She wasn’t giving in to the dreaded “what if.”
They weren’t forever. She knew and accepted that. But they were right now, and that was good enough.
But when has good enough ever been, well, good enough?
“Share the gold, or lose half the Garden,” Tiffany grated. “I’m not afraid to sue. And the cemetery is an ancestral estate, is it not?”
Finally, Jane found her voice. Threaten her home? Big mistake. If the other woman pushed any harder, the gloves would came off, and the brass knuckles would come on. Metaphorically speaking, of course. In fact, she almost—almost!—used Conrad’s upcoming sheriffship to her advantage. Because guaranteed he would win. That wasn’t even a question. No one had a better record or skill set. Which gave her an idea for the perfect Christmas gift for him. Oh! He was going to love it.
Focus. “The Garden is an ancestral estate, yes,” she allowed with a stiff tone. “There was a will naming me as the beneficiary, and inheritance rights always follow the will. Meaning your case has no legs. Why do you want the gold? If there is even a single nugget left. You’re already rich.”
Red circles painted Tiffany’s cheeks, and another realization hit Jane.
Her eyes widened. “You’re broke. Your murderous fiancé drained your bank accounts before his capture, didn’t he?” Theft had been his specialty, after all. A product of his bottomless greed, and the reason he’d killed to hide his activities.
The red circles expanded, covering more ground.
Sympathy welled, but still Jane said, “Why don’t you have your lawyer call mine?” In other words, no one would be calling anyone about anything. Tiffany probably couldn’t afford to hire a lawyer at this point.
The widow and her friend floundered for a response.
Done with the conversation, Jane pivoted and headed for the reference section, exactly as planned. One thing had become crystal clear. She must solve the mystery of Benjamin’s treasure now, now, now. No more delays or distractions.
Well, other than her date.
CHAPTER TEN
Do you ever wonder why lords start a-leaping? I think it’s because they’ve found the greatest gift of all—love! No matter how bad things appear, love never fails, Jane. Remember that.
–Lily Ladling’s Holiday Advice for Ladies Cursed in Love