by Lyla Payne
I nod, glad to have something to do and feeling more than a bit pleased with myself for being able to use my particular skill set to convince Rebecca Davis to stop bothering poor Taylor. Using Mel’s research to help should also work in my friend’s favor if Daria is on the fence at all about hiring her to help.
I walk the inside of the house, wafting the smoking, fragrant sage along the windows and exterior walls. Daria sets little bowls of salt that burn with pretty flames around the doors and windows, then comes with me as I sage the exterior of the house, dropping sprinkles of salt along the foundation and windows.
“This is supposed to, what? Keep ghosts out?”
“Keep everything out,” comes her grim reply.
“But I thought you said Rebecca was the only ghost here.”
“Might be. Might be I was wrong. Plus, with these old houses, sometimes they attract things. Like what you saw in that tree out in Mount Pleasant.”
A shudder works down my spine at the memory of the black, long-fingered demon things. I’ve worked hard to forget they exist, though hanging out with Daria makes it hard.
“So, we’re good?” I ask when we’re back in the front.
She nods. “Let me grab my bag.”
Daria takes the stick of sage from me and runs back inside, leaving me alone for a couple of minutes. I avoid looking at the trees on the property and also issue a fervent request to my spirit guide to keep away the ghost of Councilman Davis, if he’s lurking around anywhere.
There’s no one but Daria, and she comes out a minute later looking like the cat who ate the canary. Whatever she’s getting paid for an hour’s worth of pretty simple work, she seems pretty happy about it.
The house greets me with a full display of Christmas lights. Multicolored bulbs shine along the roof, line the windows with sharp corners, and loop the bushes and small trees in the landscaping out front. Garland wraps around our front yard lamp and along the porch railings and pillars, interrupted every couple of feet with bright red velvet bows. A wreath on the front door looks so heavy I’m surprised Leo and Cade didn’t have to nail the thing on to get it to stay.
Bells tinkle on the door handle as I step into the foyer, feeling cheered by the success of the evening and the state of the house. The smell of chili greets me, and my stomach grumbles. I forced Daria to go out at a decent hour tonight, just after nightfall, because I’m tired and there’s no reason to creep around like witches or ghouls on a job she was hired to do. She didn’t like it, but she must have really wanted me to come. And now I’m starving.
“Millie?” I call, making my way into the kitchen.
“You don’t have to yell.”
I shrug out of my jacket and lay it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs, then sling my purse on top of the table. “The way things have been showing up in our kitchen lately I figured some warning would be nice.”
She chuckles, looking in pretty high spirits herself. A slight smile curls her lips, and her cheeks are pink as she leans over the pot of bubbling chili. “I know we usually let it simmer longer, but I’m famished. You?”
“Yeah. Thanks for cooking.”
I pull an onion and a jalapeño out of the fridge, along with sour cream and cheese, then set to work chopping the vegetables. Amelia finishes her fussing and dishes up two bowls, then adds a bag of Fritos to our pile of goodies before sitting down.
I move my purse and settle across from her, breathing in the steamy goodness of the soup. “It smells good.”
“Thanks. Will called with some news about Ellen.”
My hand stops halfway to my mouth, chili dripping back into the bowl. “Oh?”
“They found her body, for one. Her family is going to have her reburied in the cemetery here.”
“That’s good.” It feels a bit like letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Ellen will be at peace. Trent knows about his son. My job is done.
“And they caught Autumn Wasserman buying a bus ticket in Charleston.”
“Oh.” I don’t know how to feel about that, but part of me is glad she’s not getting off the hook so easy. Ellen’s ghost had seemed ambivalent, maybe because being dead is the ultimate catalyst as far as helping a person pull apart what really matters from the petty human feelings of revenge and betrayal. As a live person, I kind of feel like Autumn should pay for the things she took from Trent and the Hargroves, malicious intent or not.
We only have her word, after all, that Ellen died naturally and that Autumn did what she could to help. I tend to believe her, because I think Ellen’s ghost would have reacted to her story differently had it been a lie.
“Does that not make you happy?” Millie asks.
“No, it does. It’s just kind of a sad story all the way around, I guess.”
“Agreed.” She takes a few dainty bites of chili, wiping her chin after each one. “I have some happy news, though.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Brick got his thirty-days-sober coin at his meeting tonight.” She beams.
“That’s great,” I say, and I mean it. Brick’s had a rough time of it, and it’s easy to be happy for him that everything seems to be turning around finally. Telling the truth, it seems, can set people free. I’ve seen the proof three times in the past two days.
“I’m so proud of him, Grace. You know his family isn’t supportive at all, but he’s stuck with it and I think he feels really good about it.”
“He should.” I smile at her. “Of course, he has you rooting for him, and that makes everything easier.”
“Stop.” She rolls her eyes. “But anyway, I want to have a little get-together tomorrow night to celebrate.”
“Are you sure he’ll like that?” I ask because Brick’s been very private about going through AA. He hasn’t told anyone other than Amelia as far as I know, and she swore to kill me in my sleep if I ever mention it.
“Oh, we’re not going to say that’s what it’s for—just a get-together. But he’ll know.”
“Like your little secret,” I tease, just to watch her face get as red as an apple. Which it does, much to my delight.
“He’s a good man, Grace. I know you two have had your differences but he helps me feel like a person with a future again.”
I reach over and cover her hand with mine. “I know. And that’s exactly why we’re going to throw him a secret party together tomorrow night.”
“Okay, yay! Thank you.” She thinks for a minute, and I can see Pinterest menus and drinks and whatever else—probably decorations she’s going to make me put up—swirling around in her head. “I think we should invite Cade. You know, as a thank-you for the lights.”
“That means asking Leo, too. And Victoria.” The thought makes me tired.
Amelia makes a face at me like I’ve gone daft in the head. “Of course, Leo. He’s on our team now, you know. We’ve stolen him from the Boone Boys.”
“He might have come willingly,” I mumble around another bite of dinner, thinking about how he’s missing out on even more now that he has a new nephew. How sad it will be for Noah to grow up without knowing the man who is such an amazing uncle to Marcella.
Now that I’ve met Trent, I feel the same sorrow for Marcie not having him in her life. She should have half a dozen uncles ready to go into battle for her, not only one.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do.” She gives me a serious look. “Are you going to help me, or do you have another sexcapade scheduled for this evening?”
I burst out laughing. “I can help. Beau was already planning on spending the day with me tomorrow, so he can help in the morning, too.”
I find myself smiling, and I think it’s because, for the first time since I started this new gig, I managed to clean everything up with minimal damage. We finish eating while Amelia prattles on about what we should have for dinner and whether or not to invite Travis, which reminds me that not everything is neat and tidy. That DNA test is hanging out there, and so are the contents of Fra
nk’s duffel bag, tossed in the chair in my room.
I shake both things off for tonight and decide to celebrate my success with Ellen. Once I do that, my chili tastes a lot like success.
Chapter Twenty-One
Beau, Millie, and I have been running around like chickens without heads for the majority of the day, which is the opposite of the best way to spend a Sunday, if you ask me. We’ve barely had time to talk between inviting people, grocery shopping at three different places, cleaning, baking, and more cleaning. Beau’s been a trooper, but it’s easy to see that something’s on his mind.
Now that dinner—spinach-and-artichoke dip for an appetizer, kale salad, grilled pork chops with asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes—is as ready as it can be without guests, and we’re all dressed, he takes the first opportunity to pull me outside with him to light the grill.
Once it’s heating, the smell of charcoal and lighter fluid dancing in the December air, he turns to me with a serious expression. My heart leaps into my ribs at the realization that he’s made a decision about the congressional appointment, and the only reason he’d be looking at me like this is if he decided to take it.
“You’re going to take the job,” I breathe, saying the words he seems to be struggling with. I remember what Leo said the other night, about Beau being his own man and this job just being one more chance to prove it, and I do my best to be happy for him. “I’m proud of you.”
“I haven’t told Governor Haley yet. I plan to call her tomorrow if you tell me you’re truly okay with this and it’s not going to affect our future.”
“I can’t promise you that, Beau.” I look into his eyes, trying my hardest to open myself up from the inside and let him see all of the truths that I’m too afraid to say. “It probably will affect our future, but that doesn’t mean in a bad way. We can’t stay the same forever, no matter how good this feels. In fact, I hope there’s something even better around a few corners that are coming.”
He pulls me into his arms and snuggles me in a bear hug. “I love you, you know.”
“I know. I love you, too.” My words are muffled against his chest. I lean back for a kiss, which keeps going and might have gotten out of hand had Amelia not stuck her head out, a plate of pork chops in her hand.
“Hey, knock it off. Mel and Will are here, as is your brother, Beau. The others should arrive soon, so let’s start the pork.”
My boyfriend gives me one more smile and a peck on the nose before unwrapping himself from me and taking the platter of marinated meat from my cousin.
“I guess I should go in and help her get drinks and appetizers for everyone.”
“Okay.”
I go inside and start taking drink orders but abandon that post when Amelia shoos me to answer the front door and take people’s coats. It seems the warm snap is over, with the temperature dropping into the forties this afternoon.
Leo and Lindsay show up next, Marcella in tow—no Victoria even though I invited her—and Cade wanders over right behind them.
“You two did a good job on the decorations,” I inform them both. “I can’t find a single thing to complain about.”
“Cade, I know you’re new to town, but you just witnessed an honest-to-God miracle,” Leo jokes.
Lindsay gives me a small smile and guides Marcella into the living room where Grant is bouncing off the walls. In a few months there will be two infants adding to the chaos, which sounds pretty wonderful.
“Cade, please don’t listen to Leo. He likes to hear himself talk.”
Leo makes a face at me while Cade does an impression of a deer in headlights, unsure who to support or if he should cast his lot at all.
“Beau’s on the deck grilling pork chops, and there’s beer in the kitchen,” I tell them, then hang up their coats while they wander off.
That should be all of today’s guests. The appearance of Lindsay and Leo brings my thoughts around to Trent, and I wonder how he’s doing. I’ll have to ask Will but today won’t afford me the opportunity with Trent’s estranged siblings in the house.
It should just be a fun afternoon. There are no ghosts in the house—Henry seems resigned to waiting for the package from London, and Ellen’s taken care of now. Amelia is happy, Brick is sober, Mel and Will have figured out this whole job thing. Even the devils perched on my shoulders have been silent for the better part of a week.
Awhile later, we gather around the kitchen table, all of its leaves inserted to make it big enough to hold our growing group of friends. Family, really. Even my relationship with Lindsay Boone seems to be headed the right direction, though I doubt we’ll be braiding each other’s hair or booking pedicures together anytime soon.
After Amelia says a prayer, Beau squeezes my hand under the table and then stands up, his beer in his hand. “Since we’re all here together and you all are my closest friends in Heron Creek, I thought you should be the first to know… I’m going to be resigning my position in town in order to step into Congressman Wilt’s position until the end of his term.”
The only person at the table who seems shocked is Cade Walters, which is par for the course. I told Amelia and Leo. Amelia told Mel, who told Will, and Leo told Lindsay. I’m assuming Beau discussed the decision with his brother before making it, and that makes me happy. The two of them, and their sister Birdie, deserve family they can count on. If their parents aren’t going to provide it, then they should be there for one another.
“Wow, congratulations,” Will says, trying to act surprised as he stands up and shakes Beau’s hand.
Everyone else adds their murmured exclamations and best wishes, and I can’t help but wonder how this will alter our lives, despite what I told Beau outside.
I put those thoughts out of my head, still unable to see the future, and clear my throat. I get to my feet and raise my glass in my left hand, wrapping my right one around Beau’s. “To a fine mayor and an even better man—Heron Creek will miss you, but the rest of the state is damn lucky to have you.”
Everyone drinks to that, and Beau, for his part, seems at peace with his decision. For today, we’re all fine. Happy. Headed toward careers and relationships and children and a million other small changes in our lives that simply mean we’re growing up. Growing older. Settling in for the long haul. Heron Creek is starting to feel, to me, like the perfect place to make that happen.
The doorbell rings, and Amelia starts to stand up, bumping her belly on the table in the process.
I snicker and put out a hand, dropping my napkin in my chair as I stand without incident. “I’ll get it. You stay put.”
It doesn’t even cross my mind who might be waiting on the porch. If they might have bad news, if our lives aren’t at sail on seas as calm as I imagine.
The sight of Dylan Travis on the porch, an open envelope in his hand and a look in his eye that’s too intense to look at for more than a moment, reminds me that storms are never far away.
“Oh, hey, Travis. What’s up?” I ask as casually as I can.
He swallows, then holds the envelope out to me. I take it and pull out a single sheet of paper. It’s from the genetic testing company. Our results.
My eyes skim the page, my heart in my throat and my legs becoming more Jell-O than bone and muscle. I read it a second time, then a third, then force my green eyes to his gray ones. He stares back at me, not moving. Waiting on my reaction.
I take a deep breath. “So it’s true.”
He nods. “It’s true.”
I have a brother. Travis is my brother.
A million emotions tumble through me, each one too quick to catch hold of before it makes room for the next. They leave me stunned and blank in the head, until all I can do is step aside and motion Travis into the house.
“You might as well come on in. My grams will haunt me for sure if I leave family out on the porch.”
THANK YOU!
Thank you for reading Not Quite Mine, and for being excited to continue Gracie’s story in Heron
Creek! I expect to release the next title this fall (likely in September), and then offer a free novella after that. If you enjoyed this installment, please take a moment to review it - things like that are such a big help and I so appreciate your time!
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I plan to release the first in a new series of three contemporary, adult romances - The Playboy Prince - in July! A sneak peek will be available soon!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
You might think that by a fifteenth or sixteenth (omg I’ve lost count and am too lazy to look it up!) I would have thanked everyone there is to thank or just cut and paste these things, but you would be wrong! I never ceases to amaze me how different the process is for each book, front to back, and even when I’m thanking some of the same people they have each grown with me and my projects to the point where I’m no longer sure any of this would be possible if I lost a single one of them.
Danielle Poiesz - if I’ve lost count of how many books I’ve published, that means I’ve lost count of how many books we’ve worked on together because it’s been nearly all of them. There’s nearly no one I would trust so implicitly with my characters, ideas, stories, and occasionally, my sanity. I am so thankful not only for your sound professional advice, but that we’ve become friends within this crazy process.
Shannon Page, thank you for stepping in and copyediting these crazy books. You know how to roll with the punches, and that’s all a writer can ask for these days.
