Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
I was worried about George now, considering what the news might be.
I was worried about Ronetta too.
The Band-Aid we’d all carefully kept glued down was losing any hope at adhesive, and we all knew it.
I set my laptop aside, got up and walked to the kitchen.
“Can I do anything to help?” I offered.
“Did you get your words in?” she demanded.
Okay, so maybe Ronetta could be a bit bossy.
I hadn’t, but I said, “Almost. I’ll finish it later.”
That appeared to be acceptable, I knew, because she turned to the pot, started dropping dumplings into the simmering broth, and she stated, “You can open the wine.”
I went to the fridge to grab the bottle she’d brought over.
I nabbed my wine opener and was going at it when I requested, “Can I ask you a question?”
Spoon raised, bowl of dumpling batter in her other hand, she turned to me and declared, “Yes. Even with all that’s going on, I think it’s a good idea you phone our handsome sheriff and ask if he wants to go see a movie.”
My throat got tight, and I could actually feel my eyes bug out.
She turned to the big pot, saying, “One thing that’s for certain about your parents, no matter what news we get, while they had them, they lived their lives like every day mattered. If your momma wanted to sing, she sang. If your daddy wanted to take his girls on a hike, he told his client he’d fix their fence the next day, and he took his girls on a hike.” She turned again and pointed a batter smeared wooden spoon at me. “You need to learn from that, girl.”
“I’m not sure Harry—” I began.
That was as far as I got.
“Stop it,” she ordered. “I’ve been paying close attention to that boy since he got hired. He wasn’t like the rest. Had to admit, I got more than a few jollies at just how deep under Dern’s skin Harry Moran got, just by giving a damn about his job and doing it right. George and I opened a bottle of champagne when we heard he won his seat as sheriff, and since Dern was busy getting incarcerated, the man ran unopposed. We still drained that bottle dry.”
“Ronetta—”
She spoke over me.
“So what I know is, he never took a pretty girl to breakfast after he gave her bad news.”
Oh yes, the entire town was buzzing about that. I had a multitude of texts from Kay, Molly, Janie and Jenna about me going to the Double D with Handsome Harry Moran.
“I don’t think now is the time to—”
“When is the time then?” she challenged just as the front door opened.
Guess George was early.
I looked to the door and watched his handsome face light up when he saw me, his full lips starting to curve into a smile, then he turned that to his wife, his smile died, and his brows formed a V.
“Woman, tell me you aren’t giving our girl a lecture,” he demanded, shutting the door behind him.
Ronetta returned to the pot. “I don’t want to hear it from you.”
“You didn’t want to hear it from me last night when you were on about this,” George said to his wife’s back. Then to me, “Darlin’, you take your time with Sheriff Moran. Boy’s not stupid. He knows a good thing. He’ll wait until you’re ready.”
It was like they thought something was happening with me and Harry.
Okay, in another universe, when I wasn’t on the verge of experiencing another trauma as pertained to my parents, I might get into a zone where I was feeling this.
But Harry’s wife had died years ago, and he was gorgeous. He could have any woman he wanted. He just never (ever) had a woman. Not after his wife.
If there was ever a confirmed bachelor (or in his case, bachelor widower), it was Harry.
“He’s just looking out for me as we go through this identification process,” I protested.
George’s brows hit his hairline. Ronetta again turned to me and hers did the same.
“Seriously,” I punctuated my statement.
Ronetta dumped the bowl with the dumpling batter residue in the sink, declaring, “I cannot with all my babies. Sherise is too busy to look for a man. It’s not like the apparatus down there works until she’s a hundred and fifty. She’s gotta get moving if she’s going to give me grandbabies. Shane’s got his face in a wine vat half the time, and when he doesn’t, he refuses to discuss anything with either of us, except us moving to Sonoma, which is not going to happen.”
“To be fair, Ronnie,” I cut in, “we’ve had two serial killers, a deranged fan who burned her celebrity author crush in a barn after shooting him and his wife, a serious sex scandal that exploded globally that involved not one, not two, not three, but four local couples, and a gaggle of women who formed a no-men-allowed coven and took over a housing development whose members were featured in an interview on Elsa Cohen’s show on Netflix. Shane’s far from crazy to be worried his mom and dad are right in the middle of all those messes.”