Persian Penalty

Charles and I rushed away, laughing the whole time.

Millicent didn’t know the first thing about us or our relationship, but she believed what she wanted to—and we had nothing to prove.

Now that I had my ring back, I counted this weekend a perfect success.

20

I always loved getting away, but even more than that, I loved coming back home. My life rocked, now more than ever.

I was surprised to find Nan waiting up for me even though it was quite late. “How was your trip, dear?” she asked, stretching her arms overhead and standing to greet me.

“Did you get my message?” I asked, scooping her up in a hug.

“Yes, all seventeen of them. I’m sorry I didn’t return any of them. This felt like a conversation we should have face to face.”

Hmm, now where had I heard that before. Sharon. I’d need to call and give her an update since we were unable to meet up before Charles and I headed home again. I had a feeling we’d both be seeing a lot of her in our future, starting with our upcoming nuptials.

“Shall I put on some tea?” Nan offered, hooking her thumb toward the kitchen.

“No,” I said, gently lowering myself onto the couch and patting the cushion beside me. If I gave Nan an excuse to put this off, she’d keep finding more and more reasons to put it off further. If we were going to have this talk, we needed to have it now.

I reached forward and grabbed both of her hands in mine, waiting for Nan to share what was on her mind.

“I’m sorry I kept you away from your grandmother all these years. It’s the one thing in my life I truly regret,” she said with a sigh.

I shook my head emphatically. “I don’t.”

She lifted her eyes to mine, searching. “What?”

“I don’t regret you doing that, and neither should you.”

Nan swallowed. “Was she really that terrible?”

“No, she was actually pretty cool.” I smiled, remembering the moments we’d shared that weekend.

And Nan’s expression pinched.

“But I’m glad I grew up with you,” I quickly added. “Marilyn is nice, and I look forward to getting to know her much better, but you’ve helped shape my life into what it is today. And I love my life. I love you. I wouldn’t have wanted anything different.”

“Really?” Nan looked so frail in that moment. For the first time in a long time, I really saw her age. She’d lived through a lot and carried one very big secret for most of her life. How did she feel now that it had been exposed and that everyone still loved her just as much as before?

“Really, really,” I said in a silly voice.

She laughed at my reference to an old movie we’d watched together countless times in my childhood.

“Will you believe me this time?”

Nan wiped away a tear, then grabbed my hands again and gave them a good squeeze. “I’ll try.”

“Well, that’s the best any of us can do, right?” I winked. “Someone super smart and awesome taught me that.”

“Speaking of all those lovely adjectives, how was she? Did you find out why William…?” She let her words trail off, unwilling—or perhaps unable—to voice what her late friend had done. With that single action, he’d changed all of our lives forever. We’d never know exactly why he’d done it, but I trusted Grandma Marilyn’s interpretation of events. Of course, it led me to wonder if my missing grandpa would have accepted me for who I am, if he’d gotten the chance to meet me before he passed.

Sometimes I had a hard time remaining serious in serious moments. I knew a joke wouldn’t help here, so I called upon my best impression of Charles. “Well, you see, the prevailing theory is that he took Mom away because he believed he was keeping her safe from Marilyn.”

Nan’s eyes bulged. “Was Marilyn dangerous? Is she now?”

I waggled my fingers. “She’s kooky-crazy. Turns out she can talk to animals.”

Nan gasped. “You can’t be serious!”

I just smiled and nodded. “No one would believe her, including Grandpa. He chose never to see his own daughter again rather than to believe something so magical could be possible.”

Nan gasped again. “Oh, that poor old man. He missed out on so much.”

“It was his choice,” I pointed out. “Marilyn never got a choice. You didn’t have much of one, either.”

“He made a choice, but it was the wrong one. That doesn’t sound like the friend I knew. Still, I’m so incredibly grateful for the life we’ve shared.”

“Me, too,” I said, peppering her cheek with a kiss.

Nan shook her head and looked down at her lap. “You and Marilyn must have had a lot of stories to share.”

“We did, and I really like her.”

What Nan said next surprised me more than anything else had so far that weekend. “I think I would, too.”

“Good, because she’s coming over for dinner next month. I figured that would give everyone enough time to let everything sink in, and it’s still well before the wedding. By the way, I have a new friend that I just know you’re going to love. Her name is Sharon, and…”

We stayed up the whole night talking, just like the old days. I had a lot to tell my mom, but that could wait until tomorrow. She had her own feelings about our sordid history, and I’d have to find a way to help her work through them.

But that’s what the people in your life were for.

They were there for you.

And it was okay to lean on them when you needed to.

I learned that this weekend, and I hoped with time my grandma Marilyn would be able to learn it, too.

I couldn’t wait for her to meet the rest of the family, and I couldn’t wait to delve further into our shared ability and what it could mean for us in the future.

Would Pet Whisperer P.I. get a new partner member?

Heck if I knew. But for once, not knowing was actually part of the fun.

WHAT’S NEXT?

There's a new tenant in the old Harlow manor, and she is intent on making life difficult for Angie and the gang. But when happens when the cranky old lady who lives on the other side of the trees turns up dead in the garden?

DEER DUPLICITY is now available.

CLICK HERE to get your copy so that you can keep reading this series today!

MEET MERLIN

If you love Octo-Cat’s cattitude, then you should meet Merlin the Magical Fluff. He doesn’t just think he’s in charge… As a witch with a human familiar, he is in charge! Read a sneak peek below…

My name is Gracie Springs, and I am not a witch… but I’m pretty sure my cat is. I first started to get suspicious when he jumped just a little too high while chasing after a robin in our front yard. I knew for sure when he opened up his mouth and addressed me by name!

The first thing he told me? That he doesn’t like the name I gave him—even though “Fluffy” fits him like a warm sweater at Christmas. Now we’ve compromised on “Merlin the Magical Fluff,” which according to him references his long and proud lineage just fine.

After that small matter was settled, he informed me that I must uphold his secret or risk spending the rest of my life in some magical prison. I agreed, not knowing it would turn into a full-time job of covering his tracks and fibbing our way out of some pretty tight spots.

When my boss at the local coffee shop turns up dead as a dormouse, things go from challenging to practically impossible… especially since all my coworkers seem to think I’m to blame.

Here’s hoping my witchy cat can charm our way out of this one, because right now it looks like I’m cursed if I do and charged with murder if I don’t. Yikes!

MERLIN THE MAGICAL FLUFF is now available.

CLICK HERE to get your copy so that you can start reading this series today. You can also turn the page to read the first chapter… Enjoy!

As we ate together, I began to share the events of my day with my feline companion. “That cop was so mean,” I whined. “I mean, why would she just automatically assume I killed my boss? It was terrible. Just awful. To see the life leave his eyes. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

Fluffy sat up straight and cocked his head to the side. Sometimes, in moments like this, it felt like he could actually understand me.

“Mew?” my Maine Coon asked.

“Oh, yeah. I guess I should start at the beginning, huh? Well, my boss at the coffee shop, Harold. He died today.”

“Harold is an awful name,” Fluffy rasped.

“I know. I never thought anyone in the—” I stopped suddenly and closed my mouth up tight, then just stared at Fluffy for a long moment. Was I really so worked up that I was now hearing things?

I laughed at myself. “Silly me,” I said with a deep breath out. “Thinking you’re talking to me, Fluffy.”

“My name’s not Fluffy,” the cat said, then hopped off the coffee table and onto the sofa beside me. “So don’t call me that anymore.”

“Wh-wh-what?” I sputtered, rubbing my eyes until I saw stars. “I’m seeing things. This isn’t real.”

Fluffy clucked his little sandpaper tongue. “You meant to say you’re hearing things, and no, you’re not. I’m talking to you, Gracie.”

I jumped off the couch and spun wildly around the living room. “Come out, come out wherever you are!” I shouted with a mad laugh, not really sure who I was confronting here. “The joke’s up. Haha, you actually had me convinced Fluffy was talking. Yup, I’m crazy! You win! Now come out and fess up!”

Fluffy let out an enormous yawn, then settled down with his paws tucked into himself. “You are most definitely acting crazy. Also I already told you my name’s not Fluffy, so will you please stop calling me that?”

I gasped, then sunk to the floor before I could pass out and crash down onto it. “This is not real. This is not real,” I murmured, acting quite similarly to how Kelley had when she was balled up and rocking in that club chair back at the coffee shop.

“What’s not real?” Fluffy asked, jumping off the sofa and striding over to me.

“You can’t talk.”

“I can talk, but it seems you’re not very good at listening.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“Of course I’m not going to hurt you. I need you to feed me, don’t I? Silly human.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The aforementioned food and also for you to stop calling me Fluffy. I much prefer the name given to me by my ancestors, thank you.”

“Um… Okay. What should I call you?”

“The name’s Merlin, and I come from a long and noble lineage of wizards dating all the way back to King Arthur.”

“You’re magic?” I asked with a quick breath in.

“Duh,” my cat spat, and then I officially passed out.

MERLIN THE MAGICAL FLUFF is now available.

CLICK HERE to get your copy so that you can start reading this series today. You can also turn the page to read the first chapter… Enjoy!

SNEAK PEEK OF WITCH FOR HIRE

And while you’re waiting for the next Octo-Cat adventure, sink your claws into this magical mystery, WITCH FOR HIRE.

“Aaaaaaaaaah!” A scream tore from my chest as I leaped away from the frigid stream gushing out of the old showerhead.

Normally I loved starting my mornings with a slow and steamy rinse while I let all of my thoughts boing around my brain and eventually meld themselves into some kind of plan for the day. Ever since moving to Beech Grove a couple weeks back, however, I was lucky to get a good five minutes of warmth before the water heater suddenly gave up the ghost and a punishing spray of liquid ice ruined my good mood.

“That’s it!” I shouted as I twisted the faucet off. My landlady would be hearing from me today, whether she liked it or not.

For her part, old Mrs. Haberdash had given me very careful instructions when I signed up to rent the small guest home at the back edge of her hilltop property. Even though she lived in the main house, just a short walk away, I was never ever supposed to visit her there. Anything I needed could be explained via a phone call or better yet—at least according to her—an old-fashioned letter.

Yeah, no.

I tried to do it her way, but so far my attempts at getting help with the plumbing had gone unanswered, and unfortunately, a useless shower made for a useless me. I’d tried playing by her rules and still had nothing to show for it. Now it was a time to play by mine.

Still dripping, I bunched my soapy hair into a bun to get it off my shoulders, threw on a shift dress and flip-flops, and headed out to finally confront my apathetic landlady.

I guess now would be a good time to introduce myself.

The name’s Tawny, Tawny Bigford. Tawny is short for Tanya, a name I’ve hated ever since Tanya Mills stuck a chewed-up wad of bubble gum in my hair during our second grade spelling test. So now I’m Tawny.

I’m 35, love my showers—as you already know—and am wonderfully, happily, unapologetically single.

Sure, I had a husband once. George was his name. But several years into our marriage, he decided he made a much better pair with some PTA mom named Patricia.

A PTA mom!

As the story goes, they’d bumped into each other outside of the local middle school one afternoon, and it was love at first sight. Why George was there in the first place, I’ll never understand. It’s not like we had kids of our own or any other reason for him to find himself at exactly the wrong place and wrong time.

But it happened and changed all of our lives in the process.

Honestly, I’d have rather he slipped off with his younger, prettier secretary. At least then I could bemoan the cliche.

But he and Patricia, who is two years his senior, are disgustingly happy together. Most days I just pretend that neither of them exists.

Okay, so I may sound a little bitter. And I may live by myself in a rented guest house, but—disappointing showers not withstanding—I absolutely love my life. Basically I write two books per year, ship them off to my publisher for a paycheck, and then do whatever I want with the rest of my time.

Yes, I could write more to make more, but why? I’m perfectly happy to live frugally because that means living freely. And as such, I have more hobbies than any one person should probably ever have.

But I digress…

This wasn’t the time to discuss my hobbies, it was the time to confront Mrs. Haberdash and to demand a steady supply of hot water that lasted more than five minutes per day. It was, after all, a simple and basic necessity.

On her doorstep now, I sucked in a deep breath to calm my rage, raised my hand, and knocked gently.

Just kidding, I pounded on that door with every bit of ire I had in me.

When no one answered, I started to shout. “I know you’re in there! And I need to talk!”

Still nothing, so I tried the doorknob and was surprised to find it unlocked, given how much I knew the woman valued her privacy.

I pushed it open and charged in, ready to give old Mrs. Haberdash a piece of my mind.

Unfortunately, while all this righteous storming was going on, I hadn’t kept an eye on my feet. I hadn’t thought I needed to, but something big and heavy was lying on the ground just beyond the threshold and I slammed right into it, lost my balance, and thudded to the ground in an awkward tangle of limbs.

Not just my own, but Mrs. Haberdash’s, too. Uh-oh. My stomach churned with an aching certainty.

“M-M-Mrs. Haberdash?” I asked, my voice quavering with fright as I turned my face toward the old woman sprawled across the entryway floor.

Her mouth remained firmly closed, her eyes glued open, her body even colder than the shower I’d just escaped.

Yup, she was dead, and—thanks to my unfortunate stumble—I’d just gotten my DNA all over her corpse.

No, no, no! I attempted a scream but came up short.

And here I thought a cold shower was the absolute worst way to start the day. Oh, when would I ever learn to leave well enough alone?

Read all about Tawny’s magical adventures with the PTA…

CLICK HERE to get your copy of Psychic for Hire so that you can keep reading this series today!

SNEAK PEEK OF SECRETS OF THE SPECTER

And don’t miss this new Molly series, available now!

Hello and welcome to Colonial Candles! My name is Mags McAllister, and I’m part of the eighth generation of McAllisters to have settled in beautiful Larkhaven, Georgia.

That’s right. My family put down roots bright and early in our nation’s history, and we’re still here to this very day.

We weren’t always candle makers, though. My aunt Linda was the one who started the shop back in 1984, and we’ve been a mainstay on Historic Row ever since.

Most days, I’ll be the first face you see when you come into our humble little store. I also lead demonstrations on traditional candle-making techniques and teach the occasional class, too. My real passion lies in the more modern side of candle craftsmanship, though…

Not sure what that means? Well, I’m talking about viral videos of the oddly satisfying variety. I dip, drip, carve, and shape, then upload to YouTube, and more recently a new app called TikTok, where I have built up something of a cult following. Yes! Believe it or not, I somehow earn more from monetizing videos of my work than selling the actual candles.

Aunt Linda thinks my videos somehow tarnish the purity of our old-fashioned techniques, but frankly, I think it’s a thing of beauty, combining the past and present as I do.

It helps me stay connected to the world outside of Larkhaven. You see, I’m the only McAllister of my generation. At least, I thought I was until quite recently when one Angie Russo from Maine contacted us and said she was a long-lost family member. Imagine my joy at learning I was no longer the youngest by more than thirty years.

That joy further developed into ecstatic fervor when I met my cousin live and in-person and found her to be one of the most invigorating people I’d ever spent any amount of time with. Now we text back and forth a few times each day, mostly sharing silly anecdotes and cute pet pics. Makes me feel a bit less isolated and reminds me that I’m only thirty years old instead of someone who’s earned her right to the senior discount.

Mind you, that doesn’t stop AARP from sending me recruitment letters at least once per month, though. You’d think a girl could enjoy a nice sweater set and antique brooch without being taken for her mother’s sister. Jeez!

Anyway, so that’s me, Mags McAllister—lots of boring and just a little bit of interesting all rolled into one. Are you here to buy some candles?