Love Comes in the Mourning - Chapter #2 - Free To Read

Chapter 1

select arrow

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

One Year Later

“Sweetheart, are you sure about this? It’s not too late to turn back. You can take a job at my office until you land on your feet again.”

Lesley DeLoach’s father had asked her the same question at least a dozen times in the same amount of days. She knew he loved her and worried about her, but starting over was something she had to do.

A green road sign for Bakersville read twenty miles. Twenty miles until she was in her new hometown. Butterflies played in her stomach.

I can do this. No other choice.

“Dad, I’ll be fine.”

“Do you need any money? I can deposit some in your bank account.”

That was part of the problem. She’d always allowed herself to rely on the men in her life to take care of her. Her old self begged to say yes. The new, independent Lesley screamed, No.

“I’m fine. Really,” she said toward the speaker of her cell phone mounted on the dash. “Aunt Myrtle left me enough money to make ends meet for a little while.”

Finding Peter with another woman had left her emotionally broken, but going through the divorce process and opting out of alimony had left her plain broke. Seeing as how she quit school to marry the turd and moved with him to upstate New York, she really didn’t have anything. No money. No education. Nada. But she didn’t care, and didn’t want anything from him ever again. She would survive on her own, and if worse came to worst, then she’d have the best looking box under the bridge if it came down to it.

“If all goes as planned,” she continued, “I’ll be running my own business by this time next month. Everything’s going to be perfect. You just wait and see.” Glad he couldn’t see her in person, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and bit her lip to keep from telling her dad the truth. She was terrified.

The constant click of a pen came through from the other end of the speaker. Her dad’s telltale sign he was nervous, too. Weren’t they two peas in a twitchy pod?

“It’s been years since you saw your Aunt Myrtle. You couldn’t have been anymore than twelve the last time you were there.”

“A fact I’m not proud of, but it is what it is.”

Once she entered junior high, visiting her mother’s aunt for the summer wasn’t what all the cool kids were doing. While her father insisted she go to Georgia for visits, he was so busy working shifts at the hospital he didn’t have much time for her, much less to take vacations to some remote, out of state town.

“I still can’t believe she left me her home.” Sadness and disbelief over her great-aunt’s passing, and her lucky inheritance, coursed through her.

“That’s what I’m getting at, sweetheart. You were the only living blood relative Myrtle had left. Besides a few letters and phone calls, I haven’t seen her myself in years. From what I remember of the Rosalyn Manor, it wasn’t in the best shape then. I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high. I’d hate for you to be disappointed when you arrive.”

“Dad, I don’t think I’ll be disappointed. I remember how much I loved that old house. The Rosalyn Manor is the perfect spot to open a bed and breakfast. I’ll spruce it up a little. Even hire someone if I have to.” If her funds would allow, that was.

“Honey, you’ve never lived alone, much less had to be caretaker to others. Do you even know how to cook breakfast?”

“Dad! I know how to cook breakfast.” Did instant oatmeal count?

So, maybe she hadn’t thought everything through yet, but really, what choice did she have? Move back to Arkansas and live with her father while working for him? She was thirty. High time she branched out on her own, and if she did fall flat on her face, at least she could say she tried.

“I’m just a little concerned for your well-being.”

“I’ll be fine.” If her aunt could live alone and take care of herself, then so could she. “Besides, I need to do this. I have to start my life over, myself, my way. I’m going to make this work.”

“Well, if you’re sure, I’ll support you.” Exasperation etched his tone.

She’d heard that voice before. It was the same one he used when she’d told him she wanted to try tennis lessons. He warned against it, but she’d insisted—then twisted her ankle on the first practice, never to pick up a racket again.

He really doesn’t believe I can make a go of this. The thought stung.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make this trip with you.” He sighed into the receiver as the sound of flipping pages echoed in the background. His calendar. Her father still wrote everything down, while the rest of the world had jumped on the technology bandwagon. “I’ll take some time off next month. I’ll make a visit, and we’ll scatter Myrtle’s ashes while I’m there. The hospital has hired a few new surgeons, so I should be able to squeeze a weekend off. Love you, princess.”

“I love you, too, Dad. I’ll call when I get settled.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

She clicked off the phone.

Lesley pushed her foot down on the accelerator. The RPMs on Berry, her BMW, revved to life. Blue Berry was the only good thing she’d gotten from the divorce, but seeing as how BMWs weren’t practical cars on a budget, her time with the lovely steel was limited. Still, she was going to enjoy her toy for the little time they had left together.

Determined to take her mind off the unknown that awaited her, she cranked up the volume on the radio. Some female artist sang about surviving and fighting as an unexpected rain cloud dropped fat, glistening beads onto Lesley’s windshield. Just as soon as she turned her wipers on, the rain stopped, and a giant rainbow shot across the sky, framing the interstate with its arches. That was a good sign, right?

Everything’s going to be okay.

According to the Internet, the town hadn’t grown since she’d been a child. If purchases were needed for the manor, Atlanta was only a short fifty-mile trek. Between the capital and Bakersville, she should find everything she needed to get the B&B up and running. This little pothole in her life would be smoothed out in no time.

As she entered the city limits, the GPS guided her down Main Street. A bookstore and coffee shop combo sat on the corner of Main and Holly, with small bistro tables positioned outside on a patio that faced the town park. She could see herself drinking a cup of coffee at one of those tables, reading a good book. Possibly even walking her dog along the tree-lined paths.

Note to self: Consider getting a dog.

A florist shop sat next to the bookstore, followed by a hair salon, a small diner, and a bakery. As Lesley passed the quaint shops, an idea popped in her mind—maybe some of the local businesses would want to help supply the bed and breakfast.

Most importantly, the breakfast.

She could picture it. The B&B’s library stacked floor to ceiling with books; a welcome basket in the front foyer, overflowing with pastries from the bakeshop. The local diner could cater events, and the flower shop could provide fresh flowers every week.

Just thinking about going into business for herself gave her tingles all over. Finally, she was taking charge of her own life, and she didn’t need any man to help her. She could—and would—do this on her own, just like her spinster aunt.

A loud whirring sound brought her out of her reverie as blue and red lights flashed from behind. Her heart pummeled again while her nerves tightened her throat.

Lesley pulled over into the parking lot of Sam’s Gas-N-Go. The noise quieted as the police car pulled to a stop behind her. Two men, not a day younger than seventy, sat in matching rocking chairs on the porch of the gas station, leisurely swaying back and forth; their stares never left the scene she provided them. Not exactly the first impression she cared to make.

An older, weather-faced gentleman, wearing a black police uniform, got out of the squad car and ambled toward her vehicle. She rolled down her window then grabbed her purse off the floorboard.

The officer bent down and stuck his head, hat and all, through the opened window. “License and registration.”

She flashed him a big New York smile. He flashed back a frown. Lesley stifled the urge to reach across and place a finger on each side of his down-turned mouth to make a smiley face. That would only land her in jail with this big bundle of police officer joy.

She grabbed her license from her wallet instead. “I’ll need to reach in my glove box for the registration.”

“Go ahead.” The man grunted and placed a hand on his gun.

“Don’t worry. I left my pistol in my other car.” She snorted. Mr. Happy didn’t think she was so funny. “Yeah, sorry, bad joke.” She grabbed for the registration and handed both to him. “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

“You were going thirty-five in a thirty.” He scanned over her license. “New York, huh? What are you doing way down here?”

“I’m moving to Bakersville.”

“You are, huh? What business you got down here?” His nametag read Captain Bob. No last name.

She wanted to say, “What’s that any of yours, huh?” but thought better of it. Maybe if she obliged, it could help get her out of a ticket. “I inherited some property. I’m going to open a B&B.”

“A B&B?” The man stared at her as if horns grew from her eye sockets.

“A bed and breakfast. I inherited the Rosalyn Manor from my great-aunt.”

“The Rosalyn Manor, huh? Tell me Ms.”—Captain Bob read her driver’s license again—“DeLoach. Have you been to the Rosalyn Manor yet?”

“Not in years. I was on my way there now.”

“I see.” He handed her back her license and registration.

She grabbed a glossy photo that sat on her passenger seat and thrust it his way. “I used to go there as a little girl. It’s great, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, great.” The officer grunted again, not bothering to take the photo. “I have a feeling affording a speeding ticket isn’t in your future. Slow it down, New York.” He tapped the top of her car. “Next time, I won’t be so nice.”

This was nice? Someone missed the class on southern hospitality.

“Thank you.”

Through the rearview mirror, she watched him stroll back to his patrol unit. Once he sat inside, she placed her license and registration back in their appropriate places, her hands shaking through the task. Captain Bob’s words replayed in her mind. Why wouldn’t she be able to afford a speeding ticket?

Lesley glanced at the picture of her inheritance sitting on the passenger seat. The old home screamed southern charm. Maybe the place was a little more dilapidated than when this picture was taken or than she remembered. Still, Rosalyn would be beautiful. She could feel it in her bones. How could she expect someone who gets his style from Buckets-R-Us to understand beauty?

She reached again for the package Milton Hambrice, her aunt’s lawyer, had sent her and pulled out the contents. Shuffled in between some papers was a note she hadn’t noticed before. She ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter.

Dear Ms. DeLoach,

Congratulations on your new inheritance. I do hope the Rosalyn Manor will be all that you hoped it would be. As you know, there are restrictions with your inheritance. You, or someone you choose, must occupy the house, and you are to keep the current staff employed. Myrtle has ensured Leo and Beatrice have been seen to for the rest of their lives. You are to treat them as if they were your own family.

I’m terribly sorry I will not be there when you arrive for the first time, but I have contacted the local contractor to meet you upon your arrival. He will assist with any questions or concerns you may have with the estate.

Best Regards,

Milton Hambrice

Lesley shuffled through the papers again. Most of that information she already knew from her last phone call with Milton, but a contractor? He hadn’t mentioned that little detail over the phone. No wonder he seemed so concerned with what time she would make it into town.

Her father had tried to warn her the house might not be in the best shape, but bad enough for a contractor to meet her right away?

Letting out a heavy sigh, she tossed the letter and the rest of the package’s contents back on the seat then placed the car in drive. After waving to the gentlemen perched on the rockers, she pulled back onto the street, Rosalyn Manor bound.

Her unknown future awaited her. She would make the most of this.

She had to.

A-
A+

Georgia

Arial

Cabin

T

T

T

en

English

en

Chapter auto-unlock

settings