I returned the wave. We still hadn't spoken since the day I'd come to her house, the day she'd had her kids taken into temporary custody. I'd heard through Jessica that she was doing much better now and didn't hold anything against me, but nobody had encouraged me to call her. Jessica had specifically told me to give the woman some space.
Samantha Sweet turned her back to me and put Michael Junior down to play in the snow. He took two small steps and immediately face-planted in the snow.
“Samantha's feeling much better now,” Chip said.
“Good to hear,” I said neutrally.
“They changed her medication, and the delusions are gone. Hard to say if it was the pills, the case being closed, or just time passing. Maybe all three.”
“It's good that she has a clear head,” I said. “That's all that matters.”
Chip took a few steps toward me. I fought the urge to flinch or roll away down the hill.
He stopped in front of me and carefully patted me on the shoulder. “A wise person told me that caring about people is the most common predetermining factor in having your heart broken.” He grinned. “Did I get that right?”
I smiled back at him. “More than you'll ever know.”
He cleared his throat and turned away. “I'd better go make that snowman,” he said.
“Someone's gotta do it,” I said.
Without looking at me, he said, “We're the ones left behind with the broken pieces. But we're going to make it. You keep putting one foot in front of the other. You just keep living, because it beats the alternative.”
The air was crisp but the sky was bright and cheerful as Jessica and I walked home after sledding.
Jessica's boots crunched through the snow as she once again wobbled away from the shoveled sidewalk. Her legs were so shaky from multiple dashes back up the sledding hill that she didn't have the best sense of balance. She kept clinging to my arm and laughing, nearly knocking me down as well.
I was teasing her and not looking where I was going when I tripped over my own boot and knocked us both onto someone's lawn. When I tried to get up, I bumped a shrub and it retaliated by sending a stream of snow straight down the back of my jacket.
“Talk about irony,” I said as I got upright and started shaking snow and water out of my clothes. “I didn't fall off the toboggan or get snowy at all, until I was three blocks from my house.”
“Statistically, that's where accidents happen,” Jessica said.
I made a face as the melted snow trickled down my spine and straight into the back of my jeans.
“Refreshing,” I said with a grimace.
We got back on the sidewalk and continued on our way home. Jessica asked what I'd been talking to Chip about, so I filled her in, and we talked about the Sweets and the McCabes.
“I predict a future merger of the Sweet-McCabe clan,” Jessica said.
“Chip and Samantha? Together?” It seemed strange, but then again it always seemed strange when two adults you already know start dating each other.
“They're already somewhat together,” Jessica said.
I gasped. “Scandalous.” It had barely been three weeks since one of their spouses had been arrested for killing the other one's spouse.
“Neither of them wanted to stay in their old houses, with all the old memories.”
“Can't say I blame 'em,” I said.
“They both moved, and they're sharing a new house.”
I stumbled and broke rhythm in my walking pace. “Not the murder house!”
“Not at all. Somebody else bought that. They're actually renting a McMansion in a new subdivision. It's one of the Canuso family's investments in town. Colt gave them free rent for a few months. I guess this is what people mean when they say tragedy brings people together in strange ways.”
Quietly, I said, “That was nice of Colt.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“No.” But not for lack of trying. I'd sent him some messages, but he hadn't responded. He'd taken down all of his public social media profiles as well. I had no idea what was going on in his life. I'd talked it over with my father and Kyle, and our best guess was that Colt had suspected his sister was involved with the homicide, which was why he'd not been fighting too hard against the charges. He must have known the blood on his shirt came from the scuffle at the casino, but he hadn't even said as much to his own lawyer. What a guy. Willing to take a murder charge to protect his sister.
“Things will settle down,” Jessica said. “Life was pretty crazy after the whole thing at the Flying Squirrel Lodge, but people's attentions shifted.”
“Thanks to the death at the Koenig mansion.”
She punched me on the shoulder playfully. “Cheer up. There'll be another weird crime soon enough.”
I laughed hollowly.
We got back to the house, and Jessica immediately got out the cocoa powder and a saucepan to make hot chocolate.
I paused by the coat hooks, watching the melted snow dripping off her jacket and all over our shoe rack.
“Maybe I'll give these soggy things a tumble in the dryer,” I said.
“Ooh, that sounds fun,” Jessica said. “Just the way you phrased it,” she explained.
“I'm a fun girl,” I said, grinning.
I gathered up the soggy coats, hats, and mittens, and headed through the door leading to the basement that ran across the full width of the house. I checked the pockets for tissues, receipts, and hard candies before tossing the jackets into the dryer. Tissues weren't too bad, but I'd learned the hard way to check for hard candies or gum before sending damp jackets for a tumble.
My load was short by one mitten, a red one. I'd dropped it on the stairs. I headed back up and stopped when I heard voices.
The same staircase led up to two doors—one for my side and one for the side Logan Sanderson had been renting for the last year. The two units had good side-to-side sound privacy, but anyone down in the basement could easily hear conversations through the hollow-core basement access doors.
By the sound of it, Logan's sister Jinx had returned from her week-long trip to visit their grandmother. I was about to knock on their door and ask if they wanted some hot chocolate when I heard my name being spoken.
Oops. Walk away, I told myself. People who listen in on conversations get what they deserve!
But the mitten I'd been reaching for had snagged on a protruding nail on the wood steps. It took me several seconds in the dim light to unsnag the yarn loop, and by then I'd already heard enough to hook me.
“Of course Stormy likes jewelry,” Jinx was saying to her brother. “Just because she doesn't wear a ton of it doesn't mean she doesn't want a ring.”
A ring? I couldn't have pried myself away from that hollow-core door if it had been crawling with black widow spiders.
“I don't know,” Logan said. “She values her independence, and that's one of the things I love about her.”
“All the more reason to get married,” Jinx said. “Two strong people can make a strong bond. That's what Grandma told me to tell you. Also, she says most people treat money like it's limited and time like it's not, and that's what wrong with the world.”
“Huh? But time is money.”
“Says the lawyer,” Jinx said with a giggle. “But seriously. Sorry I don't have a box for it, but here you go. It's official. We Sandersons don't have much in the way of family jewels, but what we do have, you're now in charge of. Grandma can't wear it anymore, and it would make her so happy to see Stormy wearing it when you go visit her.”
“But we don't even have a date set for me to bring her out to see the family.”
“You'd better get busy planning,” Jinx said. “Grandma's not going to be around forever. She says the angels have been visiting her bedside.”
“Grandma's been saying that for years.”
There were footfalls and then banging in the kitchen. Their voices got softer as they moved further away from the hall, but I could st
ill hear them if I pressed my ear against the door.
Logan asked his sister, “You don't think it's too soon? We haven't even been dating a year.”
“What do you want? I mean deep down, sky's the limit, what do you want from Stormy?”
“Everything,” he answered without hesitation.
Everything. My heart felt like it was skipping jump rope.
“Then give her the ring and propose, you big dummy.” There was a break in the conversation as they moved things around in the kitchen. “What's the hold up? Why are you making that face?”
“I'm worried that I'm going to let her down.”
“Then don't let her down.”
“Jinx, she almost died. I should have been there. I'm such an idiot, making her go to a barn dance without me just because I don't dance.”
“You couldn't have known,” she said soothingly. “You can't protect her from everything.”
“Then what's the point in trying to be her husband?”
“What are you talking about?”
“She doesn't need me,” Logan said. “Not even half as much as I need her.”
“So?”
There was a long pause. The television came on, and I heard the ditzy local weather girl talking about the snowfall warning in effect for that night.
Logan answered his sister's question, but I couldn't make out the words over the television. Maybe it was for the best. I already felt like a dirty private eye for listening in on their private conversation.
It took considerable effort for me to walk back down the stairs, toss the mitten in the dryer, and turn it on. With the machine running, I definitely wouldn't be able to hear any more of the talk.
I walked back upstairs and into our side of the house feeling like I was floating on a cloud.
I couldn't stop smiling.
Jessica thought my good mood was from a day of sledding and fresh air followed by hot cocoa. And that was definitely part of it.
But I was also smiling because Jinx, who I barely knew, had all but welcomed me into the family. And now Logan had a ring with which to plan a proposal.
And soon I would be able to tell him he was wrong.
Smart as he was, he was wrong.
I wanted to be with him every bit as much as he needed me. My last engagement hadn't ended well, but my life had changed a lot in the last year. This time it would be different.
Turn the page for a note from author Angela Pepper...
Author's Note
Dear reader with exquisite style and taste:
You've just finished reading Stormy Day Book 5. As of the writing of this note, I've just finished writing Stormy Day Book 5. What a coincidence! Ha-ha.
Now I'm enjoying my husband's reactions as he reads Death of a Double Dipper. The lucky guy gets to read all my books even before they go to the editor. For a few days, it's a secret shared by only the two of us. I love hearing his reactions and his laughter to the funny parts. This afternoon he cried out, “Hey, it's the first page and someone's already been murdered!” And then, an hour later, “Hey, it's Piper Chen! Neat!” These are exactly the kind of reactions I hope readers will have, so I'm glad to hear that my devious plans are working. (In case you didn't catch that little Easter egg, both Piper Chen and the House of Hallows books are connected to one of my other series, from the book Interview with a Ghost.)
Soon, this book will be published and the secrets of its contents will be shared by more and more people. I won't be there to hear you laugh out loud or gasp in horror, but I like to imagine the sounds you'll make and perhaps the unpleasant chores you'll blow off to stay home snuggled up with Stormy and friends. Thank you, dear reader, for bringing the story to life in your imagination, for being the other person at the end of this connection we have through the written word.
When I was a kid, my first friends were authors. Most people who love books will say the characters were their friends, or the books themselves, but I always felt a connection to that invisible person who dreamed up the story in the first place. From a very young age, I knew that all stories were made up. For example, I didn't ever believe that Santa Claus was real. (Perhaps my parents didn't try to hard enough to sell me on the idea.) Understanding that all stories were made up by authors only helped me enjoy them more. I knew that L. Frank Baum wasn't really the Royal Historian of Oz, but I loved how he would pretend he was, adding yet another layer of magic and whimsy to the series.
I'm an author today because I can't imagine anything else I'd rather be. There are tough days, for sure. I'm an “indie” author, which means I have a ton of freedom, along with an equal amount of responsibilities. These are interesting times for authors. It's not easy, but I'm grateful that it's possible. As a kid, I didn't dare plan on becoming an author, because I didn't think it was practical. But now, technology and innovative companies have made it possible for story-dreamers like me to share our secrets with the world. How amazing is that?!
The best part about being an author is that some days I'm not even myself at all. I get to be Stormy Day, private investigator and consumer of gas station hot dogs. There are times, when I'm deep into writing a novel, that I catch sight of my reflection in a mirror and I'm startled to find that I'm not actually Stormy Day, or Zara Riddle, or Piper Chen. Ah, but don't worry about my sanity too much. I've asked around, and I hear from other authors that it's not unusual for us to dream our character's dreams. That is, after all, the whole point of books. Through stories, we live more lives than our own. We enjoy our character's friendships, sit with them through tragedy, and then stand and share in their triumph. Reading is more than just an escape; reading makes our lives richer and deeper.
A reader once asked me if I crack myself up when I'm writing. The truth is, not usually. Honestly, the look on my face! I feel sorry for anyone who has to look at me while I'm working. I'm usually intensely focused on having my characters act honestly. Dialog or actions might come out funny, but my intention is never to make something funny. However, there are some instances where I laugh out loud while writing. With this book, the part that made me chuckle the most was near the end, where Stormy describes all the funny places where Jeffrey's chewed-up bit of leather has been turning up, including her lap. My fellow pet lovers, we've all been there, am I right? My husband hasn't reached that part of the book yet, but I'll know when he gets there, because he'll probably have to put the e-reader down for a minute to regain control over himself. I hope it was the same for you, or that some other part spoke to you and helped release some emotions.
Now I'm off to begin work on my next book. I've got a name, Watchful Wisteria, and plenty of ideas. Chapter One, blank page, we meet again. I've no idea where these new daydreams will take me, but I hope you'll tag along.
Thank you for your support and all the giggles.
Love, Angela
P.S. Turn the page for a current list of my all books and series...
Series Reading Order
Current Series:
Wisteria Witches Mysteries - Angela Pepper
#1 - Wisteria Witches
#2 - Wicked Wisteria
#3 - Wisteria Wonders
#4 - Watchful Wisteria
#5 - Wisteria Wyverns
Stormy Day Mysteries - Angela Pepper
#1 - Death of a Dapper Snowman
#2 - Death of a Crafty Knitter
#3 - Death of a Batty Genius
#4 - Death of a Modern King
#5 - Death of a Double Dipper
Completed Series:
Restless Spirits of the Southwest - Angela Pepper
#1 - Date with a Ghost
#2 - Interview with a Ghost
#3 - Dancing with a Ghost
Eli Carter & the Ghost Hackers - Angela Pepper
#1 - The Cat Who Went Bump in the Night
#2 - The Ghost Who Wasn't There
#3 - The Dog Who Barked Fire
For links and Angela's news, visit www.angelapepper.com
&nb
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