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)
“What are you even talking about? I’m always ready for french toast!” Wait. Not always. “I mean, of course, I’ll accept french toast if blueberry pancakes aren’t an option.”
“Either way, you aren’t ready for these. My specialty. I’m told they are world changing.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Someone else had sampled his cinnamon sugar french toast? Who? When? Where? Jane swallowed a whimper of desperate curiosity and finished cleaning her plate. Better to focus on the gold mystery.
The second she swallowed the last bite, she clasped Conrad’s hand. He’d only eaten half of his portion, but he didn’t protest when she drew him to his feet.
“Come on,” she rushed out. “You need shoes.”
He was in the process of tearing into his toast as she nudged him toward the stairs. Rather than protest, he devoured the bread as he climbed, Cheddar following him. Less than a minute later, her new roommate was clomping down in his combat boots, sans dog, wearing a sweatshirt over his T-shirt.
Jane rushed to the entryway closet, where she donned her coat, a stocking cap with cat ears, and the rubber boots she kept downstairs for emergencies such as this. “Cheddar isn’t coming?”
“He jumped on the bed and fell asleep before I finished tying the first shoelace. I didn’t have the heart to wake him.”
She led Conrad outside, calling, “Rolex, honey, I expect to find Cheddar in the same condition I’m leaving him. Love you. Okay bye!” Warmth gave way to a pine-scented chill as the door closed behind them.
As Jane and Conrad walked the cobblestone path side by side, muted sunlight bathed the gentle rolling hills to the right and the various angel statues before her. She almost clasped his hand ten thousand times.
To fill the silence and distract herself, she asked, “Are you looking to rent or buy?”
“Buy. Being a property owner will only help my cause.”
He wasn’t wrong. “Have you chosen a real estate agent yet?”
His amber eyes sparkled again. He was about to tease her, wasn’t he? “According to the Headliner, Abigail Waynes-Kirkland just got her real estate license.” The Headliner was a town message board and weekly paper.
“You absolutely cannot work with a gravedigger, Conrad.” Too far, too far! “I forbid it.”
“Noted,” he said with a grin.
Abigail, her brother, and her ex-husband were treasure hunters who’d come to the cemetery with a shovel, hoping to unearth those rumored nuggets. “You should ask Fiona to help you. Her husband sold homes before their divorce, so she’s practically an expert.”
“Actually, I already have a realtor. Buddy Horn of Horn Realty.” He nudged her shoulder with his own and offered a grin. The adorable lopsided one that made her knees quiver. Her favorite. “You got any beef with him?”
“No. I don’t think I have.” But anyone was better than Abigail Waynes-Kirkland.
They traveled through Eden Valley, over the bridge into Autumn Grove, past the headstone belonging to Muffin, the cemetery’s first and only canine resident, and to the Greek-revival style vestibule mausoleum of blue-gray granite. Impressive columns stretched from the portico floor. As a little girl, she would stare at the gabled roof topped with a swan’s neck finial.
Jane pushed open the massive bronze doors, which time and the Georgia weather had gentled and turned virescent. Their footsteps echoed amongst the masonry and high ceilings. They paused by a small area of low benches in an open, triangular design for visitors to reflect or pray. She often found a single flower in full bloom left on the floor during her daily rounds.
“Tell me about the mural,” Conrad said, motioning to the panorama landscape etched into the stone walls. His arm fell to his side, his fingers brushing hers, and she forgot to breathe for a moment.
“It’s, um, a map of the grounds.” She motioned to different landmarks, doing her best to hide her sudden trembling and fighting the urge to lean her head upon his shoulder. “See?” she said, pointing. “The original business center. Pleasant Green. Serenity Rose. Paradise Ladling.” Where Grandma Lily, Pops, and Opal were buried, along with a dozen ancestors she’d never met. “Since it’s out of the elements, it stays pretty much the same. From time to time, we bring in someone to touch it up.”
She studied the images as Conrad strode through the surprisingly wide space. The list of seven churned through her mind. “When you hear ‘sunken ice naps,’ what’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”
“Something buried in water?” he suggested, then twisted his lips. “That might be too obvious.”
“Could it have something to do with diamonds?” she wondered aloud, following his path. “Say…diamonds buried with the dead?”
“It’s possible.” He turned slowly. Only then did she realize how close she stood to him. He must have realized it, too. Eyes darkening, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But which dead?”