Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Not at all,” Josie replied. “I worked quite a bit on the Victorian my mother and I lived in while I was growing up. It was always fun working on projects together. Except, possibly, for the plumbing.” She shot Malcolm a look. “Plumbing has never been my favorite.”
He explained to his grandmother, “I’ve been kicked out of my flat in the city due to burst pipes. I literally just got a text from the building’s management saying that it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to get back into our homes for quite some time.”
Josie looked concerned. “If you need me to find another place to stay—”
“Like I said last night, I’m not kicking you off the houseboat. I can find someplace to stay—like Gran’s back cottage, right, Gran? I know that technically Owen still lives there, but we all know he spends all his time with Mari above the bookshop.”
Again, his grandmother had that calculating look in her eyes. “Actually, I’m having some work done on the cottage for the next couple of weeks, and I’m afraid the back unit is not going to be habitable.”
Before he could ask her about the surely fictional work she’d just concocted out of thin air, she continued, “So the two of you have already spent the night together on the houseboat?”
“In separate bedrooms,” Josie piped in, just as she had clarified with Mari.
“Oh, of course,” Mathilda said, as though her brain hadn’t automatically gone somewhere else. Which it clearly had. “Well, then, it sounds perfectly reasonable to me that you stay on the houseboat with Josie for the duration,” she said as she served them delicious-looking finger sandwiches.
The truth was, he didn’t want to go anywhere else either. Not only because the houseboat was the one place that felt like home to him, but also because he wanted to spend more time with Josie. Who wouldn’t? He found himself wondering if she was single. Somehow he thought she had to be, because she hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend or fiancé or, God forbid, husband. But if she was single, that didn’t really make sense either. Who wouldn’t snap her up? She was beautiful, brilliant, fun. She was the full package. He realized he was staring at her and turned to catch his grandmother noticing that he had been staring at her. She shot him a look, one that he suspected Josie would have been embarrassed to see had she not been eating her smoked salmon sandwich with her eyes closed and her expression one of total rapture.
“This is so delicious. Thank you so much, Mathilda.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“And I hope it won’t make you uncomfortable when I tell you how much I love your books. A couple of years ago, they helped me through… well, something really hard. And the truth is that reading and rereading your books was instrumental in my getting over it. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for what you do.”
His grandmother reached out and put a hand over Josie’s. “That’s the loveliest thing you could possibly have said to me. When I’m struggling to come up with the next chapter, the next paragraph, even the next sentence, it’s knowing that my books have made a difference in someone’s life that gets me over that hump. I’m glad I could help, Josie, however I did.”
Josie was beaming as Mathilda added, “But I also think you’re selling yourself short, because something tells me that you’re an incredibly resilient woman and that you would have navigated your rough patch even without my books.”
“Thank you,” Josie said softly.
“Now, let’s finish up these sandwiches so that we can move on to the scones and then dessert.”
“Is this where you write?” Josie asked after they’d each eaten several small tea sandwiches—cucumber and cream cheese, and ham and English mustard. Gran was really putting on the dog. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
Malcolm laughed. “Gran loves to talk about her writing process. She’s bored me enough with it over the years,” he teased.
“You’ve always been the mouthy one in the family, haven’t you?” his grandmother teased back. “Yes. I sit in front of the window with the sun streaming in and glinting off the water. I love watching all the activity outside, from the wildlife to the boaters and the kayakers and the paddleboarders and the people walking by.”
“It’s lovely that you can just look at the world around you and be inspired.”
“As a bonus, writing mysteries has given me license to kill off anybody who’s ever annoyed me over the years,” his grandmother said with a smile.
Josie laughed. “I always wondered that about mystery writers—if every villain is actually someone from their real life.”
“Not always,” Mathilda said, “but more often than you think.”
“That’s why I’m always careful not to get on your bad side, Gran,” Malcolm told her.