Peach Clobbered
Page 27
“Hey, Harry,” I called over the bus’s rumble. “I guess you’ve changed your mind about the lawsuit over the house?”
He quirked a brow.
“Why would you think that? I’ll need a place to stay next time I’m back in town. Now that I’ve got a decent gig, I can afford to pay my lawyer again,” he finished, and then slid the bifold door shut.
Great, I thought as I watched him pull out. I had a sneaking suspicion that I wasn’t going to be rid of Harry permanently after all. On the bright side, that earlier twinge of regret at his departure had been neatly choked out by the cloud of diesel fumes he’d left behind.
I walked back into the kitchen, where Mattie was waiting patiently for my return. “It’s just you and me again, girl,” I told her. “But don’t worry, we’ll find ourselves some new guests soon.”
I grabbed a water from the fridge and started for my room, Mattie at my heels. I was halfway through the hall when my cell phone rang.
Ha, what did you forget? I thought, prepared to see the name CRAZY MAN pop up on my caller ID. He’d driven maybe a mile and then realized he’d left something behind. And he’d probably expect me to fetch it and run it out to the gate for him.
But it wasn’t Harry. The number showing was local, however, and so I answered it. “Hello, this is Nina.”
“Nina, it’s me!” a woman’s excited voice said. “Sister Mary George. Can you switch over to Facetime?”
She referred to a phone app that allowed two-way viewing during a call. I hurriedly made the switch, and the nun’s smiling face popped up on my screen.
“Sister Mary George, it’s wonderful to hear from you,” I exclaimed, adding, “But a bit unexpected.” Then, frowning, I asked, “Wait, did the bus break down or something?”
“Nothing like that.” She moved her phone so I could see a familiar group of women crowding in next to her.
“Hi, Nina!” the nuns called, smiling and waving, before the phone refocused on Sister Mary George’s face.
“All right, I’m confused,” I said with a laugh. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, Nina, it’s such wonderful news. We had just pulled onto the highway when Reverend Mother got a call from the archbishop. There’s a convent in East Texas that is part of our order, and the sisters there have a cheese-making operation similar to ours. But, quite frankly, while they are spiritually strong, they’re not good businesswomen.”
“Really?” I asked, feeling a frisson of excitement on the nuns’ behalf.
Sister Mary George’s videoed smile broadened. “Not only that, but it’s a far larger convent with only a handful of sisters to care for it, and their Mother Superior has been forced to retire because of poor health. Because of that, arrangements were made between our two dioceses, and … oh, Nina, all of us have been asked to join them. We’re going to Texas to make cheese again!”
“Sister Mary George, that is fabulous. I am so happy for all of you,” I exclaimed, tears of happiness welling in my eyes.
She gave a trilling laugh. “We’re so excited. And, do you know, this will be the first time any of us has been on an airplane. We have reservations on a flight first thing Monday morning.”
“We be cowgirls now!” I heard Sister Mary Paul exclaim in the background, while the other nuns gave a hearty cheer.
I laughed, too. “Talk about divine intervention. I know all of you will be happy there. And next time I visit my family in Dallas, I’ll have to make a special trip to see all of you.”
“That would be wonderful. Okay, I’ve got to go now, but we’ll be praying for you. I’ll call you again after we’re settled. Goodbye!”
She pulled back the phone long enough for me to see the other nuns waving again. Even Reverend Mother was grinning broadly, looking a good decade younger than she had that morning. A final chorus of goodbyes rang out, and then Sister Mary George hung up.
Smiling, I looked at Mattie, who’d been listening to the exchange with cocked ears.
“Hey, pup, it’s good news, I promise. I’m just crying because I’m happy,” I told her, swiping away the tears. “Things are working out for everyone. Harry has his cable TV series, and now the sisters have a new home together. And since these things come in threes, I guess that means we’re due for a little success of our own.”
As if on cue, my phone chimed as a text message popped up.
HELP! it read. MY NAME IS JOYCE & I’M A FRIEND OF MELISSA JANE. SHE TOLD ME ABOUT YR B&B. I NEED 2 ARRANGE A LAST MINUTE BACHELORETTE WEEKEND 4 MY BFF & 6 FRIENDS. PLS SEND INFO.
I looked up from the text and gave Mattie a thoughtful frown. “All right, now that was too coincidental. But you know what they say about gift horses. Or is it divine intervention? So what do you think, girl? Are we up to handling a bunch of bridesmaids?”
The Aussie gave herself a shake—which might have been a yes or might have been a no—and then trotted off in the direction of the bedroom. I followed after her, texting as I went.
HELLO JOYCE. WE WOULD LOVE TO ASSIST YOU WITH YOUR EVENT. SEND ME YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS AND I WILL FORWARD YOU A BROCHURE TELLING YOU ALL ABOUT FLEET HOUSE. ALL BEST, NINA FLEET.
Also available by Anna Gerard
Black Cat Bookshop Mysteries (writing as Ali Brandon)
Twice Told Tail
Plot Boiler
Literally Murder
Words with Fiends
A Novel Way to Die
Double Booked for Death
Tarot Cats Mysteries (writing as Diane A. S. Stuckart)
Fool’s Moon
Leonardo Da Vinci Mysteries (writing as Diane A. S. Stuckart)
A Bolt from the Blue
Portrait of a Lady
The Queen’s Gambit
Author Biography
Anna Gerard is a member of Mystery Writers of America and was the 2018 chapter president of the Florida chapter of MWA. She also belongs to the Cat Writers’ Association and the Palm Beach County Beekeepers Association. She has a BA in Journalism from the University of Oklahoma. A native Texan, she now lives in the West Palm Beach area with her husband, dogs, cats, and a few beehives.
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Diane A. S. Stuckart
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-64385-006-1
ISBN (ePub): 978-1-64385-007-8
ISBN (ePDF): 978-1-64385-008-5
Cover illustration by Brandon Dorman
Book design by Jennifer Canzone
Printed in the United States.
www.crookedlanebooks.com
Crooked Lane Books
34 West 27th St., 10th Floor
New York, NY 10001
First Edition: July 2019
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