Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
With a half smile, I walk into the small storeroom next to my office. Wayne unboxed several new pieces yesterday afternoon, but we still have to catalogue them and get them ready for sale.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I’m surprised to see my aunt Becky’s name on the display.
“Well, good morning, favorite aunt.”
“You know, those words would mean so much more if I weren’t your only aunt.”
I laugh and remind myself that I need to get down to Newport to visit her. “How are you today?”
“Well, I’m doing fine, and I’d be better if this kitchen would ever get done.”
“Are you still having issues with that?” I scowl at nothing in particular. “Do you want me to call someone?”
“No, they should be finished this week, thank all the gods above. Anyway, that’s not why I was calling. Do you remember Ally Macky?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You know, she lived in that house on Cherry Lane that had the gargoyles on the eaves, like she lived in a damn castle or some such thing?”
“Oh, I remember the house, yeah. The new owner had the gargoyles removed.”
“Good, they were awful. Anyway, do you remember her?”
“Not really. She was a lot older than me.”
There’s a slight pause. “She’s my age.”
I grin. “Exactly. A lot older than me.”
“I’m going to pull on your ear the next time I see you for that.”
I rub my free ear, already dreading it.
“What about her? Did she die or something?”
“Oh, goodness no. Why? Did somebody die? You never tell me the gossip.”
“Focus, Aunt Becky.”
“Right. Anyway, Ally told my friend, Eunice, who told my other friend, Franny, that you’re living with Sarah Pedersen.”
“Wait. This is why you asked if I remember Ally?”
“It’s all for context,” she insists and sniffs. “Is it true?”
“You can move out of Huckleberry Bay, but apparently, you can still get all the gossip.”
“Not from you. Answer the question.”
“Yeah. I’m living with her.”
I explain to her how the situation came to be, and when I’m finished, she sighs in my ear.
“That’s damn romantic.”
Now I sigh in confusion. “It’s romantic that someone broke into her house? Twice?”
“Obviously, you don’t read the romance books, my boy. I’m assuming that she’s not just sleeping on the couch.”
“No. She’s not. We’re not going to get into where she’s sleeping, Aunt Becky.”
She laughs on the other end of the line now. “No, let’s not. Bring her to see me, why don’t you? Or, I’ll come up there. I miss you, and I always had a soft spot for your girl.”
“I know you did. We’ll arrange it. Oh, and Aunt Becky, someone did die.”
“What? Who?”
I tell her the little I know about Sarah’s mom.
“They were horrible people,” Becky says softly. “I don’t like to say that about anyone, because there’s always some good in someone, but those two were just horrible. I felt for those kids, and I’m relieved that they both turned into good people, despite the shit they came from.”
My eyebrows climb in surprise. Aunt Becky never swears.
“They’re both doing great,” I assure her. “Now, what other pieces of gossip do you have?”
“None to share,” she says. “Watch your back, Tanner. I know you want to protect Sarah, but I need you to be careful, too. I don’t think I’d ever recover if something happened to you.”
“I’ll be careful,” I assure her, just as the bell over the door jingles. “I have to go. I have customers.”
“Alright, then. Have a good day, honey.”
“You, too.”
I stop short when I walk out to the showroom and see Sarah stomping back and forth.
“What’s wrong?”
“First, don’t yell at me. Yeah, I walked here alone, but it’s literally like two blocks, and I’m just so pissed off that I had to get the hell out of there on my break.”
I nod slowly, watching as she breathes hard and grinds her teeth together in absolute rage.
“Wanna talk about it, pretty girl?”
“I want to fucking punch something.”
I cross my arms over my chest and let her pace and work off some aggression. I’ve never seen her this angry, and it’s spectacular and a little frightening, all at once.
“Who pissed you off?”
Her eyes narrow on me, and I worry that I should have waited to speak to her, but then she blows out a breath and seems to sag as she lets just a little of the rage go.
“Angela is a stone-cold bitch.”
“This is the one who lied to you about why she needed her shift covered last week?”
“Yeah. Listen, I don’t give two fucks if she doesn’t want to talk to me. I don’t care.”
“Don’t blame you.”
“But apparently, me giving her no reaction has pissed her off all over again, and now she’s stealing my tips.”
I straighten, the rage she let go now filling my chest. “Excuse me?”
“All of my cash tips. I’ve had sixteen tables already this morning, which is a shit ton. Looks like tourist season is starting early. Anyway, only five of those put their tips on their credit cards. The rest were cash.”