Sunday Bookends: Making chocolate chip cookies, reading mysteries and classics, and started Gladwynn’s third book


It’s time for our Sunday morning chat. On Sundays, I ramble about what’s been going on, what the rest of the family and I have been reading and watching, and what I’ve been writing. Some weeks I share what I am listening to.

This week I’m joining up with Kimba at Caffeinated Reviewer, Deb at Readerbuzz, and Kathyrn at The Book Date.



What’s Been Occurring

Yesterday Little Miss and I visited my parents to have some dinner and make chocolate chip cookies with them.

We did that on a very windy, rainy day after traveling to drop The Boy off at a friend’s house 40 minutes away. On the way back from dropping him off, we stopped at a local library that was having a used book sale. It wasn’t a very exciting sale for us, sadly, but we did get a few books. There were no cozy mysteries. So sad. Yet, not really because I have so many to read right now.

The cooking making was interesting. We whipped up a batch but my mom said it didn’t look like there would be enough for her grandson, who loves chocolate chip cookies, so Little Miss and I added some more flour. But then we realized we would need more butter and another egg and then we tried to remember what we’d put in and what we hadn’t so the conversation started going like this:

Me: “We should put some more flour in.”

Her: “I don’t know about that.”

Mom/Grandma: “Did you even put the baking powder in?”

Her and me: “oops.”

Me: “I’d better put another half a cup of butter.”

Her: “This isn’t looking right.”

Me: “It looks super sticky and sort of runny.”

Mom/Grandma: “Add more flour.”

Dad/Grandpa, taking photos of it all and snickering: “I don’t know how these cookies are going to turn out.”

Me: “Well, we will eat them somehow.”

The cookies:

The cookies tasted great, by the way. Somehow I forgot to add this when I originally shared this post so if you see comments about that below — that is why. *snort* I am such an airhead sometimes.

While cooking the cookies we also had an incident where Zooma The Wonder Dog ran into a mud puddle twice trying to corner a cat at my parents’ neighbor’s house. I had to lock her in the bathroom, pull out the cookies, and then hose her down so she wouldn’t get the house all muddy.

She didn’t want to get in my parent’s walk-in shower but I finally managed to coax her in and pull the shower head off and wash the mud off.

We left not long after that and came home to enjoy some quiet time at home.

What I/we’ve been Reading/will be reading:

Currently:

I plan to finish The Divine Proverb of Streusel by Sara Brunsvold this week.

I am also reading The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett and started Priscilla by Jenny Knipfer.

Just Finished:

A Troubling Case of Murder on the Menu by Donna Doyle. This was a cute little, simple cozy mystery.

Soon to be read:

The Mystery at Lilac Inn by Carolyn Keene

Murder Always Barks Twice by Jennifer Hawkins

Death At A Scottish Christmas by Lucy Connelly

Little Miss and I finished The Middle Moffat by Eleanor Estes this week.

The Boy and I are looking for a new book to read for English for school and he is finishing a Warhammer book.

The Husband is reading Skinwalkers by Tony Hillerman.

What We watched/are Watching

This week I watched an episode of Lark Rise to Candleford, Bluey (because of course), and Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman.

I also watched a show called The Repair Shop on Britbox or Acorn or Masterpiece or some British channel on Amazon. I really enjoyed it. They are repair experts who repair special heirlooms for people and there are usually sweet stories behind the items.

This vlog by The Cottage Fairy about how she needed to take a break from social media to help quiet her mind. I could really relate to this because I felt the same way.


What I’m Writing

This past week I started book three in the Gladwynn Grant Mysteries. I’m excited to see where it goes and how it turns out.

Last week on the blog I shared:

What I’m Listening to

I’m going to try my best to finish A Tale of Two Cities but I will also be starting Watership Down on Audio, read by Peter Capaldi.

Photos from Last Week

Here are some photos from the play of War of the Worlds that my husband was in last week. I wrote about that yesterday in my Saturday Afternoon Chat post.

Blog Posts I Enjoyed This Past Week

Finding Solace in the Sink by Book Inheritance

Now it’s your turn. What have you been doing, watching, reading, listening to or writing? Let me know in the comments or leave a blog post link if you also write a weekly update like this.

Book recommendation: Murder Plainly Read by Isabella Alan

Murder Plainly Read by Isabella Alan, the fourth book in the Amish Quilt Shop Mysteries, was hard for me to put down not only because I wanted to find out who committed the crime in this super cozy mystery, but because I became attached to the main character Angela “Angie” Braddock and those around her.

Angie owns a fabric and quilting shop in the small town of Millersburg, which has a very large Amish population. She owns two pets – a loveable French Bulldog named Oliver and an aloof cat named Dodger. She’s dating the town’s sheriff, James Mitchell, which creates some interesting situations when she’s trying to investigate things she shouldn’t really be investigating.

Angie’s friends work in the shop or are connected to the shop in some way and are Amish. There are two different types of Amish sects in this community – more strict and more liberal. Angie’s employees – Anna and Mattie – are a mix of both.

Anna cracked me up because she is Amish but also wants to get to the bottom of things and in this case those “things” are surrounding the murder of a very cranky bishop of the Old Order Amish named Bartholomew Belier. He’s found dead in the library bookmobile by Angie and Angie’s “prim and proper” mother. Standing over him is brash librarian Austina Shaker, who is quickly blamed for the murder.

Angie isn’t sure if Austina is guilty or not but when Austina begs her to help clear her name, Angie can’t seem to help trying to find out. Anna also pushes Angie to get involved, certain she can help get to the bottom of what really happened to Bartholomew.

Angie does have a history of trying to solve murders, after all since she’s investigated and solved three murders previously. I should add that I didn’t realize this was the fourth book in this series when I started it and I had no issues understanding what was happening despite not reading the previous three yet.

The loveable cast of characters in the book include Anna and Mattie, Angie’s friends Rachel and Jonah, who are also Amish, Mitchell and his son Zander, a mischievous goat named Petunia, and Angie’s parents.

Her father is extra loveable and fun as he tries to navigate life after retirement. Her mother is more on the irritating side of things as she tries to run the show a lot and seems a bit stuck up but she keeps the storyline even more interesting as the reader braces themselves for what she’s going to say or do next.

There is much more than a mystery going on in this book and I like that. I like the little side stories with the different characters. I also loved the undercurrent of romance between Mitchell and Angie and how Alan didn’t need to add anything explicit or detailed to get across the feelings between the two.

There were even a few swoon-worthy scenes that made me giggle with delight over the gentle affection shown between the couple – affection that didn’t involve anything blush-worthy.

It’s amazing to me how just Mitchell brushing his fingertips against the back of Angie’s arm was enough to hint at sexual tension. No spicey scenes or language were needed.

I am looking forward to reading more books in this series.

Book recommendations/reviews for Meet Your Baker by Ellie Alexander and Crime and Poetry by Amanda Flower

Meet Your Baker by Ellie Alexander

Meet Your Baker by Ellie Alexander was a cozy, quick read that launched me into modern cozy mysteries. It is the first book in the Bakeshop Mystery series.

Juliet Capshaw returns to her hometown in Oregon after suffering heartbreak while working as a chef on a cruise ship.

Hoping for a break from all the stress, she begins working with her mom at the family bakery. Her hopes for a peaceful settling-in are dashed when she discovers a body on the kitchen floor one morning.

This book had me hooked on the characters fairly quickly. There is a close relationship between Juliet and her mom and there are plenty of quirky and sweet characters to grow attached to.

Even though I am not a baker myself, I liked how baking was seamlessly woven into the story. I won’t lie – I did skip over some of the more detailed descriptions of the baking process and how it made her feel because it isn’t really my thing, but for those who absolutely love baking I know those descriptions will be something they will love to read.

Alexander does an amazing job of bringing her characters to life – whether it is in how she describes them or in how she creates a dialogue between them.

This is a book I would recommend to anyone who loves super, super cozy mysteries.

Crime and Poetry by Amanda Flower

Crime and Poetry is the first book in the Magical Bookshop series by Amanda Flower. Violet Waverly rushes back to her hometown to help her ailing grandmother, only to find out her grandmother (Daisy) isn’t so sick after all.

Daisy owns a bookshop that Violet soon finds out is magical because the books pick their readers, which is hard to explain until you read the book.

Before Violet knows it she’s wrapped up in a murder mystery when a man named Benedict Raisin dies clutching a copy of Emily Dickinson that he bought at Daisy’s bookshop. Even worse for Daisy is that Benedict left her in his will.

This is a book that takes you on a wild journey full of magic and craziness. I’m not usually a fan of “magical” books. I prefer my cozy mysteries to have at least a little bit of reality to them but I’ve read Flower’s other magical series – The Magical Garden Series – and really liked it.

I did not enjoy this book as much as the magical garden because it featured more about spells and that’s not really my thing. It may, however, be something other readers enjoy. I also felt that the timeline for solving the mystery was completely ridiculous. But there were magical books involved so of course it would be solved fast. A little bit of suspending belief isn’t a bad thing when reading a cozy mystery though.

I don’t know if I will continue this series because I didn’t connect with Violet as much as characters in other series by Flower but I might since I liked the book overall.

Have you read either of these? What did you think?

Three cozy mystery shows you should be watching

My husband and I watch a variety of mystery shows together, some of which we would consider “cozy mystery” shows. Cozy mysteries are a little lighter in topics with some humor thrown in. Yes, they may feature murder mysteries but they don’t normally show too much of the death scene and don’t focus on the more macabre aspects of the crime.

Instead, they focus on the clues and red herrings (which are clues that the viewer thinks are clues, but really are just thrown out there to throw the viewer off the scent). They also focus on the relationships and private lives of the sleuths, who are many times amateur sleuths who work on their own and sort of against the professional law enforcement or who work with them.

There are sometimes silly and unbelievable or more unrealistic aspects to cozy mystery shows. Think Murder She Wrote, one of the original cozy mystery shows.

Today I am recommending to you three of the cozy mysteries we watch. Next week I’ll be sharing some more “serious” mystery shows we watch.

I shared a couple other suggestions previously in this post: https://lisahoweler.com/2022/05/04/five-fun-quirky-and-unique-mystery-shows-you-should-be-watching/



1. Shakespeare and Hathaway: Private Investigators is a cozy mystery show on the BBC. I actually mentioned this show in my previous post on this topic as well.

The show follows the story of PI Frank Hathaway (Mark Benton), a former detective inspector, and Luella Shakespeare (Jo Joyner) who hires Frank to investigate her fiance.

Hathway and his assistant Sebastian Brudenell (Patrick Walsh McBride) discover that Luella’s fiance is not a great guy and after the case is solved, Luella tells Frank she wants to work with him. He resists but she has money and he is in debt so has no real choice but to agree. Shakespeare and Hathaway: Private Investigators is born.

The episodes are often quirky, feature humor, and also have some serious moments. Sebastian, an out-of-work actor, brings a lot of the humor with his undercover work and various character creations when he goes undercover.

Throughout the first couple of seasons, viewers are given hints as to why Frank is no longer a DI. Critics, while faulting some of the aspects of the show, can’t deny that the characters are loveable and cozy fans love to follow them and find out what they are going to do next.

There are four seasons of the show and searches online show that while there has been no announcement of a fifth season, there also hasn’t been an official cancellation of the show.

2. Psych

Pysch first appeared on the USA network but I don’t think we saw it until it was streaming and I am not sure where it was streaming first. Right now it is streaming on Amazon and Peacock with a subscription and Apple TV if you want to purchase each episode.

The show follows Shawn Spencer (James Roday) and his best friend Burton “Gus” Guster (Dule Hill) as they start a psychic detective agency. Shawn has a photographic memory but pretends he is psychic to get jobs with the Santa Barbara Police Department. He drags Gus along to help, even though Gus’s normal job is in pharmaceuticals.

One reason Shawn’s photographic memory skills are so good is because his father Henry Spencer (Corbin Bernsen), now a former police officer, taught him those skills when Shawn was a child. Many of the early shows start with flashbacks of Henry teaching Shawn how to observe and gather information in a situation.

Pretending to be a psychic obviously creates a lot of humorous and ridiculous situations and viewers often have to suspend belief as mysteries are solved but it’s such a fun ride that the implausibility of it all isn’t a blip on the radar of most viewers. Shawn, Gus, and the supporting cast are the drivers and we’re just along for the ride, in other words.

Speaking of supporting cast members – they include police detective Juliet (Maggie Lawson), who Shawn, of course, falls in love with, the uptight and by-the-book police detective Carl Lassiter (Timothy Omundson), and police chief Karen Vick (Kirsten Nelson).

There were also some amazing guest stars on the show over the years including Tim Curry, John Cena, William Shatner, Cary Elwes, Kristy Swanson, Mira Sorvino, Anthony Michael Hall, and Jeffrey Tambor.

The show ran for eight seasons until 2014 and three made-for-tv movies followed in 2017, 2020, and 2021. This one is a favorite for my family.

3. Rosemary and Thyme

This is another British who, which I’ve mentioned before on the blog. The show features Felicity Kendal as Rosemary Boxer and Pam Ferris as Laura Thyme. They are landscapers who sort of fall into amateur sleuth roles when crimes continue to happen at the sites where they are landscaping.

I like this show because it features older women as the main characters. I liked the show even before I was “an older woman” by the way.

According to information online the show’s creator, Brian Eastman made it to entertain his wife, who is a gardener.

The show ran for three seasons before being unceremoniously canceled by ITV as part of ITVs plan to refresh its lineup. Two final episodes were aired more than a year later after the show ended and two more had been written but by the time production was ready, most of the actors were already committed to other projects.

I am rewatching this series through Britbox because there are a few I don’t remember from the first time I watched it.

Bonus: The Mallorca Files

This one showed up on our radar in 2019 and I’m adding it as a bonus because it isn’t strictly a “cozy mystery.”

The main characters are actually police and they topics can be a little heavier than strict cozy mystery shows and it is actually defined online as a “police procedural.”

The show starts with Elen Rhys as Detective Miranda Blake being sent to Mallorca to investigate a case that carries over from England and then getting transferred work with the Mallorca Police Force.

She is assigned Detective Max Winter, portrayed by Julian Looman, who is a German transplant to the island.

In case you are wondering, or don’t know (like I didn’t before I watched the show), Mallorca is a real island off the coast of Spain.

What I love about this show is the international flavor (for me at least) and the different cultures represented – British, German, and Spanish.

The police chief – Ines Villegas — is very Spanish.

The plot of the episodes are very engaging with a constant underlying sexual tension between Miranda and Max.

From what I read online yesterday, this show had filmed more episodes this past summer but a date for season three, which could include the remaining episodes filmed in 2020 but not aired.

According to Wikipedia: “The series is a co-production between Cosmopolitan Pictures, Clerkenwell FilmsBritBox US and Canada, ZDFneo and France 2.

Cosmopolitan Pictures founder Ben Donald said the series came from “[a] desire to create a feel-good action-driven cop show like the ones I grew up with and, secondly, a desire to rebrand and refresh the Anglo-German relationship on television.”

Have you seen any of these shows and what were your impressions if you have?

Fiction Friday: The First Chapter of Gladwynn Grant Takes Center Stage

Today I thought I would share the first chapter of Gladwynn Grant Takes Center Stage. This is the second book in the Gladwynn Grant series.

Both this book and the first book, Gladwynn Grant Gets Her Footing, are available on Kindle Unlimited on Amazon until April 18th.

After that, I am pulling the plug on KU for a few months and allowing the ebook to go up on other services as well.

For now, the ebook is in Kindle Unlimited and available for purchase on Amazon and the paperback is on sale on Barnes and Noble and Amazon.

You can learn more about my books here: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Lisa-Howeler/author

Gladwynn Grant Takes Center Stage

Chapter 1

Sitting on a lounge chair on the back patio with a book in one hand, an iced tea in the other, Gladwynn Grant had an excellent view of the lilacs and roses blooming in her grandmother’s garden.

She also had an excellent view of the two cats her grandmother hadn’t wanted but had let Gladwynn adopt anyhow. The black and white one was sprawled on her back on the end of the lounge chair fast asleep. The all black one was sleeping in a tight ball on the wicker rocking chair that her grandmother usually occupied.

This lovely, quiet Saturday morning was one of two days off she had from her job as a reporter for the Brookstone Beacon. After two hours of reading, sipping iced tea, and scratching the heads and bellies of the cats, the closing of a car door signaled that her “alone time” was coming to an end.

Voices inside the house a few moments later let her know that her grandmother had returned, along with their neighbor, and Lucinda’s friend, Doris.

“We’ll need a list of all the characters.” Her grandmother’s voice carried from the kitchen. “That will give us a better idea of how much fabric we’re going to need for the costumes we have to make. We should be able to pick up some of the dresses from Second Hand Rose and the Salvation Army store.”

“I think we’re going to have to make the dress Matthew buys Anne, though.” Doris’ voice joined Lucinda’s. “Puffed sleeves are not a thing anymore, even for those who wear vintage clothes for fun.”

Gladwynn heard the opening of cupboard doors. “Let’s try that tea Louise gave us.” Then a little louder. “Gladwynn, hon’. You out there?”

“Yep.”

“Come in and try this tea Louise McIntosh gave us. It’s from India.”

Gladwynn stood from the lounge chair and yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “India? Whose been in India?”

“Louise’s son and daughter-in-law were missionaries there and brought it back with them.”

Gladwynn’s eyes slowly adjusted from the bright sun to the dimly lit kitchen as she walked inside. For several seconds Doris was simply a small figure sitting at the table. As she came more into focus, though, Gladwynn could see her usually long silver hair had been cut into an attractive bob that brought her hair down to just below her ears.

“Doris! I love your hair! What does Bill think?”

Doris touched a hand to the bottom of her hair, bouncing it against her palm. “Why thank you. He seems to like it. Said it makes me look ten years younger, so I took that as a compliment.”

Doris had a small, round face, and bright brown eyes with a hint of gold in the irises. She was petite, or what Gladwynn would call dainty. When she smiled her entire face lit up, making her look at least a decade younger than she was.

She and Lucinda had been friends for more than 50 years, meeting when Lucinda and her late husband Sydney had moved into the three-story Victorian home next to Doris and her husband’s similarly lovely Victorian house. Lucinda and Sydney had moved into the home when Sydney returned from the seminary to become the pastor of Covenant Heart Church. They had lived in the rectory for several years until Sydney’s father passed away and the family home was left to him.

Lucinda set three delicate teacups with red roses on the side on the counter. “At least he put the golf clubs down long enough to notice this time.”

Doris clicked her tongue. “Now, Lucinda. Behave. I told you he’s been better lately.”

Lucinda opened a small box of tea and placed the loose leaves in a small tea ball, which she sat inside her ceramic teapot, a match to the teacups. Sydney had given her the set for their 50th wedding anniversary.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. You know I struggle with a sarcastic tone. You think at my age I’d have that under control.”

Doris’ smile was warm and full of amusement. “If you didn’t have that sarcastic tone, I’d worry you were sick, Lucinda Grant.” With a laugh, she turned her attention to Gladwynn. “I hear you’ll be at our rehearsal tonight to write an article about the show.”

Gladwynn dropped a piece of homemade bread in the toaster. “Yes, ma’am. I care so much about you ladies I am even coming in on my day off.”

Lucinda patted her on the shoulder. “And we appreciate it, honey.”

“Just keep in mind we are only in the planning stages right now,” Doris said. “We still have to figure out costumes and set design and no one even knows their lines yet.”

Gladwynn knew the Willowbrook Retirement Community had chosen to perform Anne of Green Gables for their summer play. What she didn’t know yet was who was playing the parts and who was directing it.

Most of her grandmother’s friends, others than Doris, lived at Willowbrook Retirement Community, which was a collection of approximately 40 mini-condos that all looked the same, inside and out. Willowbrook provided independent living for local seniors, while also giving them a community of neighbors. A recreational center on the condo property provided them with a place for swimming, aerobic classes, as well as musical concerts and dramatic performances put on by the residents.  

Lucinda set the kettle on the stove. “We’ve got plenty of time for all of that. The show isn’t until August.” She glanced over her shoulder and winked. “Plenty of time for us all to have a mental breakdown.”

Lucinda’s long white hair still featured flecks of the golden it had been when she was younger. It was pulled into the usual bun tight on top of her head. Two signature dimples popped up on each of her cheeks.

The toast popped up and Gladwynn began to butter it. The smell of homemade bread filled the air. She and Lucinda had cooked it together a couple of days earlier.

“Who all is in the play? Do either of you ladies have a role in it?” She looked at Lucinda with a mischievous smile. “I could totally see you as Marilla, Grandma.”

Lucinda’s eyes narrowed as she set the teacups on the table. “I’m not sure if that is a compliment or not considering how grumpy and uptight that woman is in the beginning.”

Reaching around Lucinda for the shaker with cinnamon and sugar, Gladwynn kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “But later she becomes a sweet, doting mother-figure for Anne so I think that fits you just perfectly.”

Lucinda pinched Gladwynn’s upper arm. “Nice save, young one, but, no, Louise is going to play Marilla. Doris and I are simply on costume duty this year and I am totally fine with that. Floyd Simson is going to play Matthew, Summer Bloomfield is playing Anne and Ashley Donnely is playing Diana. The part of Rachel Lynde will be played by Beatrice Farley, which is completely fitting for her.”

The chirping birds outside reminded Gladwynn she’d left the cats on the patio where they were probably awake from their naps now, ready to pounce on a blue jay or cardinal feasting at her grandmother’s bird feeder. She opened the patio door to let both cats inside. Scout darted inside while Pixel took her time, rubbing against the doorframe several times, walking in a circle, and then finally returning to walk through the door.

Gladwynn rolled her eyes at the cat and sighed, then reached down and scratched Pixel’s head. “Who is the director of the play?”

Steam rose from the kettle as Lucinda dropped the tea ball into the teapot. “Samantha Mors. She’s the community center’s new recreational director. She’s magnificent.” She poured hot water into the teapot and sat it in the center of the table. “She’s brought so much life to Willowbrook.”

Doris placed a cube of sugar in her teacup. “I agree. She’s brought so much to our community at large, not just Willowbrook. We now have craft fairs and talent nights at the retirement community hall, in addition to the activities she’s added for the residents. There are nights for crafts, a book club, art classes, aerobics and Pilates classes, shuffleboard competitions, and, once a month, there is a dance.”

Gladwynn was impressed with the list of activities. The woman sounded like a true gift to Willowbrook.

“She sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to meet her. For now, though, I’m going to finish this toast and tea and  head out to meet Abbie and the kids for a picnic at the lake.”

Lucinda lifted the teapot lid, steam rising up in front of her face as she looked inside. “Oh my. Doesn’t this smell wonderful?” The smell of tea wafted from the teapot. She began to tip tea into each of their cups. “Before you head out, I thought I should let you know that your father called this afternoon.”

Gladwynn’s shoulder muscles tensed. She kept her gaze on the tea leaves swirling in her cup, waiting for Lucinda to continue, but not wanting her to at the same time. It was rarely good news when William Grant called.

Lucinda cleared her throat as she sat at the table and began to tip some cream into her tea. “He asked how you were.”

Good for him, Gladwynn wanted to retort, but didn’t. “Mmm. That’s nice.” Gladwynn blew on the tea. “And what did you tell him?”

“That you were doing well, but that he had your phone number so he could call and ask as well.”

Gladwynn snorted out a laugh. “And what did he say to that?”

Lucinda dropped her voice into a deeper range. “Well – well, mother. I know that, but – well, you see, I just figured it was easier to call you and – you know I’m late for a meeting so I – uh.”

Gladwynn burst into laughter at the impression of her father. “That was way too accurate.”

Lucinda reached for a homemade sugar cookie on a plate she’d sat next to the teapot. She broke the cookie in two. “Teasing aside, I know he’s not the easiest to get along with, but he does love you. He’s just not very good at showing it.”

That was an understatement in Gladwynn’s opinion.

“I also know you won’t want to hear this.” Lucinda dipped half of the cookie in the tea. “But he says he will be visiting in a couple of weeks. He has a law conference in Philadelphia and would like to stop in to visit on his way back.”

Gladwynn wondered what the deal was with everyone she knew from her old life stopping by on their way to conferences. Two months ago, her ex-boyfriend Bennett Steele had done the same thing. That hadn’t ended well, but he seemed to have got the message after their talk and hadn’t tried to reach her again since then.

“That’s fine. I hope you two have a nice visit. I’ll probably be at work most of the time.”

Other than reading a lot, she and her father seemed to have very little in common. He was all about work — making connections for work, reading about work, and then going to work as a high-end corporate lawyer in Manhattan during the week.

On the weekends he was home in Upstate New York. When she had still lived across town from him in a rented apartment, which had only been a short six months ago, he’d spoken to her briefly a handful of times. Those times were usually to let her know that he and her mother didn’t feel she was living up to her potential. That speech had intensified when she’d been laid off from her job as a research librarian and the local college—as if the layoff had been her fault.

She drank the last of the tea in the cup. “That was amazing tea. Thank Louise for sending some home with you.” She stood and kissed Lucinda’s cheek. “I’ll see you two tonight at the theater.”

“Have fun and don’t forget your sunscreen,” Lucinda called after her. “And say hello to Luke if you see him there. I heard he was camping out there this weekend.”

Gladwynn paused in the doorway of the kitchen.  What were the chances that she was going to the same place today that her grandmother’s pastor— the man her grandmother had been not so subtly trying to set her up with for the last few months —was camping?

Was it possible that Abbie and her grandmother had combined forces? She briefly glanced over her shoulder at Lucinda, who seemed to be innocently sipping her tea as Doris started to talk about a problem she was having with a flower in her garden.

Shaking her head, she continued toward the stairs, refusing to believe that her friend and grandmother were conspiring against her.

Lake Henrietta was about a thirty minute drive from Brookstone and took Gladwynn through fields that stretched out to the bottom of tree-covered hillsides and then faded into forests of tall Eastern pine trees, maples, oak and dying ash trees. The ash trees had been attacked by the ash borer years ago and the bug had finally succeeded in eating through them all. The ash borer had been brought in by the state to chase away the Japanese beetles which had been brought in to chase out an infestation of – well, Gladwynn couldn’t remember. All she could remember was that the government always seemed to be offering solutions that made the original problem ten times worse.

Taking a deep breath through her nose she reveled in the smell of pine and blooming wildflowers. A deer stepped out into a meadow between groves of trees, followed by a fawn. She smiled, a sudden rush of gratefulness rushing through her at being able to live in an area where such scenes were commonplace. So many who’d lived here for years took it for granted, while here she was driving to a state park and wondering like an awe-struck child what wildlife she might see today.

Moving to this more rural area from an urban one had been an adjustment for sure, but it was an adjustment she had been enjoying so far, despite the fact there had been two attempted murders within a couple of months of her living here. She’d ended up helping to investigate both cases because of her reporting job.

Hopefully, life in Marson County would be a little calmer now. Gladwynn was now back to covering elementary school field days, mundane municipal meetings, and library fundraising events and she was fine with that.

Abbie Mendoza stood outside a blue minivan in the parking lot of the beach entrance of the park. The mother of three was wearing a pair of light blue shorts, flip flops, a white tank top with blue stripes and her dirty blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Canvas bags, beach toys, a cooler, and an enormous inflated pink swan sat around her on the ground. A small boy jumped up and down next to her and an older child, who was a younger version of Abbie, was leaning against the side of the car, reading a book. Hannah, Abbie’s middle child, was walking along a log laying in the woods near the parking lot, her arms out to her side for balance.

Gladwynn smiled as she pulled into the space next to Abbie, remembering the first time she’d met her and her children.

Abbie was the part-time barista at Gladwynn’s favorite coffee and bookshop, Brewed Awakening. The coffee shop featured a used bookstore in the back and had become a frequent place of peaceful respite for Gladwynn. She and Abbie had become fast friends after meeting, even though it seemed in some ways that they didn’t have a lot in common. Gladwynn was single and Abbie was married with three children she homeschooled.

“Need some help?” Gladwynn asked as she stepped out of her car. She reached for the bag Abbie had picked up and hooked it over her shoulder, then held her hand out to Logan, Abbie’s 3-year-old son.

Logan grinned, stuck a finger in his mouth and took her hand.

Gladwynn looked down at him and smiled. “Ready to see the lake?”

He nodded and gigged, bouncing up and down. “Ake! Ake!”

Abbie sighed and rolled her head from side to side as if working out the kinks. “He’s been driving me crazy all morning, running around and chanting “Ake! Ake!” She looked over her shoulder. “Isabella, grab the other bags, honey. We need all the help we can get.”

Isabella didn’t respond, her head still bent over the book.

“Isabella!” Abbie’s voice was sharp. “I’m asking you to help us carry this all down to the beach. I’m glad you’re reading, but we could use your help.”

Isabella looked up quickly, her expression a mix of surprise and indifference. “Oh. Sorry.” She shoved the book in the bag over her shoulder and picked up a folded beach chair and cooler. Looking up she managed to give a half smile to Gladwynn, who thought about how she was so glad she wasn’t a teenager anymore. That had been a confusing and awkward time, and it had to be even worse in the day and age of the Internet.

Hannah skipped along behind them as they made their way to the beach, a man-made space covered in sand that had been hauled in from somewhere else but provided a soft space to walk and sit next to the 245-acre lake.

Lake Henrietta stretched out toward a hillside of green pine trees, the blue sky with a few clouds reflecting in its surface. Gladwynn had visited the lake one other time before this with Abbie’s family and planned to visit again soon by herself. She was looking forward to setting herself up under the weeping willow along the far shore, away from the beach, with a book and a tall glass of lemonade.

Today, the beach was full of children building sandcastles and running into the water and families picnicking at tables in grassy areas next to the sand.

Abbie and Gladwynn spread a blanket out on the warm sand. They set the bags up around it, then propped a large umbrella up to protect them from the blazing sun.

Abbie slid a small white bottle from a canvas bag and shook it. “Let’s get some sunblock on before you all run away.”

Gladwynn lent a hand and once the kids were slathered to Abbie’s specifications, they took off for the water, Logan doing his best to drag the inflated swan across the sand.

Sitting on the blanket, Gladwynn reached inside her bag for her own bottle of sunblock and began to rub it onto her bare arms, shoulders and legs. She’d chosen a sleeveless shirt that hooked behind her neck with two strings and left the top of her back exposed, a pair of vintage-style blue shorts with white stripes, and brown sandals with blue flowers tacked to the top straps.

“Need any help with your back?”

The deep voice startled her, and she looked up quickly to see the mischievous smile of the very attractive man she’d been doing her best to avoid for the last couple of months.

Fiction Friday: Reintroducing Gladwynn Grant

I’ve had a few new visitors to the blog lately so I thought I would bring back my Fiction Friday feature for this week to reintroduce Gladwynn Grant, the main character of my cozy mystery series.

There are only two books in the series so far, with both of them currently on Kindle Unlimited, which is an ebook subscription service through Amazon for those who aren’t familiar with it. It is also available for sale as an ebook on Amazon and as paperbacks on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Gladwynn Grant is a young woman who has moved in with her eccentric grandmother after being laid off from her job as a research librarian at a community college. Let’s be honest, she also moves to her grandmother’s small town to get away from her ex-boyfriend, Bennet Steele.

She used to visit her grandparents in Brookstone as a child and teenager and always thought the town was fairly quiet. Her image of the place is shattered, though, when she finds out in the first book that someone may have tampered with the brakes on the local bank loan manager’s car and again when someone drops a car on a disagreeable resident in the county.

The first book, Gladwynn Grant Gets Her Footing, will be part of a blog tour with Celebrate Lit beginning March 12.

You can learn a bit more about the book, the tour, and the stops for the tour here: https://www.celebratelit.com/gladwynn-grant-gets-her-footing-celebration-tour/

 For the blog tour, I shared a bit about how I came up with Gladwynn’s name and personality so I thought I’d share that here today too.

I can’t say that Gladwynn Grant’s character is based completely on my grandmother, but, in some ways, I did. I named her Gladwynn after my paternal grandmother whom I grew up living over the creek and through the woods from.

Gladwynn was her middle name but I’m not really sure how she spelled it because she never really used it. She usually just wrote G. as the middle initial. When we did a search on Ancestry, we saw that some spellings on her documents were Gladwin and some were Gladwyn. I guess her family wasn’t sure either, but if I remember right (I don’t have the document right in front of me) on her birth certificate it was spelled Gladwin.

I liked the spelling of Gladwynn with a “y” and two “n’s” though so that is how I spelled Gladwynn’s name for the books.

My grandmother was tough and to the point. She wasn’t mean but she didn’t pull punches. She was not super maternal or affectionate. Again, though, she was not mean.

She lived through the Great Depression and raised children during World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War.

Her youngest, my dad, was in the Air Force when Vietnam broke out. He was never sent overseas but he helped build bombs and work on airplanes during that time.

She knew about hardship, trials, and heartbreak. Her husband died of cancer when he was in his 60s and she spent the next 35 years without him. She began to lose her eyesight to macular degeneration in her 80s.

None of what life threw at her stopped her from living her best life.

She still traveled and kept her house and property up. At the age of 86 I caught her on a ladder cleaning out the gutters. Around the same age she marched down the dirt road in front of her house with a walking stick and told the township road workers to make sure the drainage pipe they were putting in didn’t run into her field and flood it.

If she was afraid of things, she didn’t show it very often.

My family lived with her while I was in college and I learned so much about how to preserve and live a happy and fulfilled life despite the tragedies or trials of my life.

When I started thinking about writing a cozy mystery series, I wanted the main character to be a lot like grandma, but also more affectionate and sentimental than my grandmother seemed at times.

I only remember my grandmother telling me she loved me once or twice in my life, but I know she did because she showed it in her actions toward me.

I wrote Gladwynn to be bold and tough, but also to be affectionate and open with her feelings – a lot like my grandmother, but also a little different.

I think my grandmother would love the idea that I am writing a series of books based on her name and partially on her personality.

I will be sharing about the tour again when it comes closer to the actual launch date for it. If you would like to check out the books from the Gladwynn Grant Mysteries, you can find them here, Gladwynn Grant Gets Her Footing:    https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C1KSQJXP         and Gladwynn Grant Takes Center Stage: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CB74L7TQ

Fiction Friday: Gladwynn Grant Takes Center Stage Chapter 14 and 15

As always, this is a work in progress and there could be (will be) typos, plot holes, and other errors but those will be fixed before the book is published a couple of months from now.

If you want to read the first book in the series, you can find it on Amazon HERE.

If you don’t want to read this story in chapters on a blog and would rather read the fully-finished and polished version, you can pre-order it HERE.

Chapter 14

She drove back to the house slowly, knowing she should call Tanner. He needed to know what she’d overheard in the bathroom, but he also needed to know about the missing button on Luke’s coat.

She didn’t want to tell him about the missing button though. She couldn’t.

Not until she’d talked to Luke first.

As for the conversation between the woman, she would pass that information on at least. It probably wouldn’t help at all, but at least it would offer proof that the family knew Samantha was Derek’s daughter. She wondered if Tanner had figured that out yet.

She considered a stop at Brewed Awakening for a cup of coffee but couldn’t face seeing Abbie right now. The intuitive mother would know something was wrong and would do her best to drag it out of her. There was no way she could tell Abbie that one of the town’s beloved pastors might be a murderer.

To her right she noticed a woman walking slowly, looking at the sidewalk, her shoulders sagging. She looked how Gladwynn felt.

As the car began to pass the woman, Gladwynn realized it was Eileen and that she was crying. She didn’t feel like she had the mental or emotional energy to comfort Eileen, but she pulled the car slowly into a parking space in front of the park in the center of town anyhow.

The recently painted gazebo stood in the center of a myriad of sidewalk paths, benches, light poles and a variety of types of trees. Gladwynn watched as Eileen walked up the steps of the gazebo and sat down, placing her head in her hands.

In some ways Gladwynn felt she needed to leave the woman alone, but another part nudged her to go talk to the woman, not only to comfort her, but learn more about what she knew, or didn’t know about Samantha. She closed the driver’s side door gingerly and made her way across the grass to avoid letting her heels click on the concrete and alerting Eileen to her presence. That couldn’t be avoided as she made her way up the steps of the gazebo, though.

Eileen looked up sharply, her eyes red and swollen. She sniffed loudly, her eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here? I don’t want to talk to the media.”

“I’m not here to talk to you for the paper. I saw you walking here and looking upset and I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Eileen glared, hands gripping the bottom of the bench she was sitting on, her straight, long hair falling loose around her face. “No you didn’t. You want to know what I know about Samantha and the day she died.”

Straight and to the point as always, but she was right. Gladwynn walked over slowly and sat next to her, tilting her knees in Eileen’s direction, her hands folded on her lap. “You’re right. I do want to know what you know about Samantha. She was a good friend to a lot of people and I want to know what happened to her. I have a feeling you’d like to know what happened to her too.”

Eileen let go of the grip she’d had on the bench, her knuckles white. She reached inside a small purse for a tissue. “I do want to know but telling you what I know about Sam won’t help anything. I don’t know who did this to her. I have ideas, but I don’t know for sure.”

“You and Sam were closer than you’ve let on weren’t you?”

Eileen nodded as she blew her nose, her voice breaking. “Yes. We became friends shortly after she moved here and grew closer in the last several months.”

“And you knew Derek well too?”

Eileen continued to cry, looking down at the hardwood floor of the gazebo. “Yes. He was a good man.”

Gladwynn decided to go for it and reveal her theory. “So you knew they were father and daughter?”

Eileen looked up quickly, tissue to her nose. “How did you know?”

There it was. Another confirmation.

“I guessed. They hung out a lot. Samantha had moved here not long after Derek did. A few other things tipped me off too.”

That really wasn’t a lot to go on to guess the two were related, but Gladwynn didn’t want to reveal what she’d read in the letter or what she’d heard in the bathroom. “When did they tell you?”

Eileen crumpled the tissue, shoved it in her purse and reached for another one. “We’d been hanging out a lot, watching movies together and playing cards. I came over early one night with a special cake I’d made and overheard Samantha asking Derek if he’d told his children yet that she was his daughter. I was shocked. I just stood there on the back patio with the cake, unable to move. Sam saw me standing there, assumed I had heard them talking and told me to come in. They talked to me and asked me not to say anything. I said I wouldn’t, of course.”

Eileen drew in a ragged breath. “Derek’s death had seemed natural, but after Samantha died – I don’t know. I just feel like it’s too much of a coincidence that they died so close together. I wasn’t surprised at all when the police said Samantha’s death was suspicious.”

Gladwynn leaned forward slightly. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask but was a cause of death ever determined for Derek?”

“I couldn’t tell you. I called the coroner and the funeral home to come after he died but the family handled things after that.”

“You had a number for the family?”

“Yes, Derek had given me his contact information but I didn’t recognize the last name.” She shrugged. “I’m not really up on billionaire hotel owning families.”

Gladwynn laughed softly. “Yeah. Me either.”

Eillen shrugged a shoulder. “It wasn’t until I found out about Sam and Derek that they told me who Derek was.”

Gladwynn hesitated to ask the next question, but in the end decided Eileen could simply decline to answer if it was over the line. “Who found Derek?”

Eileen’s expression crumpled. “Me. I went over to take him the coffee I’d ordered him from a specialty place in Italy.” She closed her eyes as if to block out the memory. “He didn’t answer but the back door was unlocked so I let myself inside. I called for him and then I went to look for him in his room. The door was open and he was in bed, peacefully sleeping. Or so I thought. It wasn’t until I got closer that I realized he was gone.”

She pressed her face into her hands and began to sob. Gladwynn’s chest tightened. The woman hadn’t been standoffish or rude all this time after all. She was simply a grieving, traumatized woman.

Gladwynn reached out and laid a hand against her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Eileen. You’ve been through a lot the last couple of weeks. Do you have anyone close to you who you can talk to?”

Eileen shook her head slowly. “No. I moved here six years ago from Florida to take this job and don’t know anyone really. Sam and Derek were my only friends.” She blew into the tissue in her hand. “That’s how Sam and I first connected. We’d both had lived in Florida.”

The postmark on the letter had been Traverse City, Michigan. Vince had said she told him she was Nebraska but had attended Ohio State. Who had this woman really been? Why did she have so many different stories about where she was originally from?  

Gladwynn squeezed Eileen’s shoulder gently. “I know we don’t know each other well, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m around.”

Eileen no longer looked like the hard woman poised to argue with anyone who spoke to her. Her guard had been let down. “Thank you.” She hooked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s very sweet of you, but, honestly, I think I might move back to Florida after all this. I need to reconnect with my parents and siblings. We had a falling out before I moved here and we’ve stayed connected some but I really just need to go home.”

That story sounded familiar, though Gladwynn had no intention of going back to Carter anytime soon. “I understand. Until then, though. I’m here.” She paused, looking out over the park as a couple walked hand-in-hand from the direction of a small thrift store. She watched the man and women look at each other, smile and give each other a quick kiss. Pulling her gaze away, she focused on Eileen again. “Eileen, do you think Derek died of natural causes?”

Eileen shook her head slowly. “No. I really don’t. I mean, I did, but now that Sam’s been murdered and knowing what I know about Derek’s family . . . ” Her voice trailed off. She looked down at the crumpled tissues in her hands. “Sorry. I really shouldn’t talk about that.”

Gladwynn thought about what she’d heard in the bathroom. “Did Samantha ever say they threatened her?”

“No, she didn’t, but she did tell me they weren’t happy when Derek told them he’d made a change in the will to leave money for her. She was very upset he’d done that because she’d never wanted his money. She just wanted to get to know him. She hated that it looked like she’d contacted him so she could get his money.”

“Do you have any idea who would murder Sam besides someone in his family? Maybe someone who didn’t like her or someone she’d argued with?”

Eileen dabbed at the corner of her eye with the tissue. “No. Not at all. Everyone loved Sam. I can’t imagine anyone who would want to hurt her. Anyone other than Derek’s children and their spouses. They’re selfish, vindictive and bitter people. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them killed Derek too.”

Gladwynn caught a glimpse of Luke driving by and her stomach clenched again.

She focused her attention on Eileen instead. “Have you met them before? Other than your interaction with Michael the other day?”

“No, but Sam and Derek told me a lot about them. Derek was very disappointed in them.” She sniffed and opened her purse, pulling out a small container of breath mints. “He didn’t want Sam to have to deal with them after he passed away so he wrote her into the will. Also, I saw Michael here in Brookstone a couple days before Derek died. I didn’t know it was him at the time but I recognized him the day he confronted me at Willowbrook.”

“Where did you see him?”

“Coming out of Berry’s Pharmacy.”

That was an interesting bit of information. She wondered if Tanner knew it. “I wonder what he was doing here. Maybe talking to Derek? I also wonder if his family knew for sure he was going to write her into the will.”

Eileen placed one of the breath mints in her mouth. “I don’t know but it would be a very good reason for one of them to kill her if they did know, wouldn’t it? Or maybe even to kill Derek.” She took a deep breath. “I know I shouldn’t have but I sort of lied to Michael Thornton that day. I do have a waiting list and someone did want to move into the apartment, but I had Derek’s belongings placed in storage because I didn’t want anyone in that family going through all of Derek’s stuff before Samantha had a chance to look through it and take some mementos of him. They’re a bunch of vultures. That’s where I was that morning. The morning Samantha died. I was renting out space in a storage facility.”

Gladwynn stood and walked across the gazebo, looking out across the park toward the Brookstone Theatre. A few movie goers were walking through the front doors for the matinee. She turned back toward Eileen and leaned back against the railing. “Who would have been the last person to see Derek alive do you think?”

Eileen shook her head slowly, staring somewhere beyond Gladwynn’s shoulder. “I don’t know for sure. Probably Sam. She usually was the last one to leave his place or him hers. Why?”

Gladwynn pressed a hand against her forehead. “I don’t know. I guess I just wondered – I don’t know really. Just brainstorming ideas of what could have happened to him if it wasn’t natural causes.” She moved her hand from her forehead to her hair, pushing a strand back from her forehead. “What about this Mary Kendall. Who is she?”

Eileen eyed her suspiciously. “She’s Sam’s aunt. How do you know her?”

Gladwynn tipped her head down briefly before looking up again, her cheeks flushed. “I happened to see the name when Bridgett knocked some paperwork off the desk the other day when we stopped by for the key.” She held her hands up. “I promise that I wasn’t snooping on purpose.”

A small smile tugged at Eileen’s mouth. “I like how you said, ‘on purpose,’ but, really, I shouldn’t have left that paperwork out where anyone could see it. I was a little flustered that day. I pulled that information out for the police so they could notify her of Samantha’s death. Then Mr. Thornton stopped by and I had to leave.”

“Did you ever give that information to the police?”

“Yes, when I came back to the office.”

So the police already had Mary’s name and information. Then they could ask her more about Samantha’s past and the letter. 

Eileen hugged her arms around herself. “I also told them about something that happened the night of Sam’s murder, after they left. I saw someone trying to get into Sam’s condo. It was the middle of the night and I’d gotten up to get a drink of water. I saw a figure outside her door, grabbed a flashlight and my phone and headed out to find out what they were doing. They were gone by the time I got there and it looked like the door hadn’t been opened. I must have scared them off. When I turned to go back to my apartment, I saw a dark truck or SUV pulling out onto main street. I don’t know if it was related or not but I’ve been on edge ever since. I check her condo every night before I go to bed to make sure it is still locked and I also remind all our residents to do the same.”

Gladwynn’s eyes narrowed as she considered this new piece of information. “Do you have security footage of that?”

“I do. I gave it to the police as well.” She stood and smoothed her skirt down. “Thank you for checking on me, but I need to get back to the office. I had a call for a repair needed in condo number 23 before I left and have a call into a plumber. I apologize for how rude I’ve been acting lately. This has all been such a shock. That day at Sam’s I just wanted to get out of there. I couldn’t believe she was dead. My mind kept racing, worried that she might have killed herself but feeling that there was no way she would have. She was so full of life.”

Gladwynn heard her phone ringing in her purse, but ignored it. “I’m sure this all has been very hard for you. I was serious about you contacting me if you ever need to talk.”

“I may do that,” Eileen said. “Thank you.”

Gladwynn watched her walk down the steps of the gazebo and across the sidewalk to her car parked on the other side of the park. There were a lot of people who had the wrong impression of Eileen and she’d been among them before today. The cold demeanor people saw in the woman was really her way of coping with all the hurt in her life. It made sense.

Eileen’s grief was yet another reason Gladwynn hoped the police would be able to find out who killed Samantha sooner rather than later.

When she arrived home William was locked in her grandfather’s office. She knew Lucinda would be helping to clean up after the dinner at the church, which meant she had some time to relax and try to process Luke’s missing button.

She didn’t take long to think about it, though, because she needed to call Tanner and fill him on what she’d heard in the bathroom.

He’d given her his work cell phone during the Stabler investigation and she used it now to try to reach him, fully expecting to reach his voicemail.

She was surprised when he picked up.

“Detective Kinney here. How can I help you, Miss Grant?”

“Do you have my number saved in your phone?”

“I felt I should since you seem to pester me so much. Have you been busy sticking your nose in police business again?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, Detective, I have not been sticking my nose in anything. I happened to be in the right place at the right time and overheard something.”

“And where were you at when you heard this?”

“That’s not important.”

“It is if you are sharing information for a criminal investigation.”

“I was in the ladies’ room at the Brookstone Methodist Church if you must know.”

There was a brief pause, then, “You were hiding in the bathroom, spying on people?”

“No, I was using the bathroom when they came in.” Her face flushed warm. “I mean, I wasn’t actually using the bathroom. I was preparing to – let’s just change the subject. I was in the right place at the right time.”

“Or the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Either way, I overheard them talking about Samantha Mors. They said she said she was Derek Thornton’s daughter.”

“Okay, so?”

She tapped a pen on top of the kitchen table. “So, isn’t that important to your investigation? That two people who died a week apart from each other were actually father and daughter?”

“Yes, but I already knew that.”

Gladwynn sat up straighter. “How did you know?”

“Quite frankly, I don’t have to tell you how I know that, but I will anyhow, since you don’t seem to think we can do our jobs. We found a letter from Derek to Samantha in her bedside table. The letter you found was simply another confirmation of their connection. I don’t know how we missed the letter you found when we went through the apartment. I’m guessing the officer I asked to check that room didn’t pull the drawer all the way out and empty it. I’ve asked for him to be placed on administrative leave.”

“In his defense, it really was wedged up in there pretty good. I think Grandma just shook it loose when she opened the drawer fast.”

Tanner cleared his throat. “Excuse me? Grandma? I thought you found the letter and that she was just there with you.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I think I just shook it loose –”

“Now you have your grandmother snooping around with you. Really?”

“We were looking for some scripts Samantha had at her place. I told you that. There was no snooping going on for anything other than finding the scripts we needed.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Except you just lied to me about who found the letter.

Gladwynn groaned softly. “I didn’t really lie. I just wasn’t specific about who found it. I didn’t want you to think my grandmother was snooping around.”

“But she clearly was.”

“She wasn’t! I already told you what happened.”

“Okay, while we are talking about true things, is it true you’re going to be in the play?

“Why is that important and who have you been talking to?”

Amusement tinged his words. “A little birdie told me.”

“Yes, I’m going to be in the play, but that’s really not important. Back to the women in the bathroom.”

The scratching of a pen on paper could be heard on the other side of the phone as she filled him in on the conversation between the women.

“Do you have identifications for these women?” he asked when she was done.

“I believe one was called Marjorie and one Beatrice. I don’t know the third woman’s name.”

“Did you see them?”

“I didn’t.”

“And this is supposed to help us how?”

She clutched her hand into a fist and pressed it against her mouth, biting at her finger before answering. “Tanner, I am just passing on what I heard.”

Tanner sighed. “Okay, thank you. Really. We were already planning to question Mr. Thornton, his wife, his sister and his sister-in-law so we will discuss this conversation with them.”

“Are you going to tell them who overheard it?”

“I don’t think that would be wise, no.”

“Okay, well, I just wanted to fill you in.” She took a deep breath, contemplating how to handle the situation with Luke. She just couldn’t bring herself to tell Tanner about the button.

“And I appreciate that.” Tanner’s tone softened. “I really do, Miss — Gladwynn. Thank you for filling me in and to show you my appreciation I’d like to fill you in on something as well. We found an earring in Samantha’s room. It may or not be related to this case but it was –”

“A silver hoop earring with a dangling green jewel.”

“How did you –”

“I wasn’t snooping! I saw it when I went into Samantha’s room the day I found her. I just happened to see it. I did not snoop. I promise.”

“Okay, well, we don’t think it was Samantha’s. It doesn’t match any of her other jewelry. Can you keep an eye out for anyone who wears similar jewelry. I don’t want you to do anything other than call me if you see anything suspicious, do you understand?”

Gladwynn smirked. “I certainly do.”

“Also, don’t get any ideas here. I’m not asking for your help beyond this.”

“I understand perfectly, Detective.”

“Okay. Good. Thanks for the information.”

“I do have a couple questions, though. Did you ever find Samantha’s cell phone?”

“We have not. No.”

“So you can’t find out who she was talking to that day at the lake?”

“Unfortunately we can’t, no, but hopefully we’ll get a breakthrough soon.”

She took a chance on another question, sure he’d hang up on her soon. “And what about the security footage from Willowbrook the night of her murder. Did you see anything on it?”

“How do you even –”

“The information was voluntarily shared with me. I didn’t ask for it.”

Tanner’s voice had switched the soft tone he’d had before to the harder one. “Uh-huh. Sure you didn’t. But, yes, we did see something on the footage. Someone was trying to break into the condo. Vertically challenged and slightly overweight, possibly a woman. The person was gone by the time we arrived.”

Vertically challenged? Had he really just said that?

She knew he wasn’t going to be forthcoming much longer. “Thank you for telling me that much at least. Does the person fit any of the profiles of the suspects you have?”

Tanner sighed into the phone. “Gladwynn, you really need to get another hobby and stop reading all those Agatha Christie novels. Let me know if see anything similar to the earring. Other than that, go write about the new lights in the park or something.”

Gladwynn straightened her shoulders at this news tip even if it wasn’t very exciting. “There are new lights in the park? What kind?”

“I have no idea. Call the borough. That’s their department.”

“I’ll do that, but before you go can you tell me if Samantha really had a small hole above her—”

“I think this office needs a reminder on keeping a tight lid on investigations,” Tanner grumbled. His voice softened at his next words, though. “Listen, we’ll find who did this. Tell your grandmother and her friends we are working as hard and as quickly as we can on this.”

A small smile tugged at her mouth “I will, Detective. Thank you.”

“Now go away,” he said, his voice gruff again.

She laughed as he hung up the phone.

Chapter 15

When Lucinda arrived home, it was around supper time and Gladwynn was already in the kitchen cooking up stir fry. William hadn’t left the study and Gladwynn was fine with that. She still wasn’t ready to talk to him about their conversation the other day.

Lucinda winced as she sat down at the kitchen table. She groaned softly and pushed her shoes off as she leaned back in the chair. “What are you making there, little lady? It sure smells good.”

“It smells good but we will have to see if it tastes good. You know I’m not a cook.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You made a pretty good three bean salad last week.”

Gladwynn laughed. “Grandma, I opened the can and poured it in the bowl.”

Lucinda stretched her legs out on a chair opposite her. “Well, it was still good.” She stretched her arms up over her head. “Have you seen your father today?”

“Nope.”

“And I’m sure you’re fine with that.”

“Yep.”

“So what was the real reason for you looking like you had seen a ghost today when you left the church?”

Gladwynn continued to cook, her back to Lucinda. There was no way she was going to tell her grandmother that their pastor might be a murderer.

“I overheard a weird conversation in the bathroom.”

Lucinda’s voice was full of concern. “What does that mean? What kind of weird conversation?”

Gladwynn turned around, spoon in her hand. “What would you say if I told you that I think that Derek was Samantha’s father and that what I overheard today confirms that?”

“I would say that I had that theory floating around in my mind as well. Who did you overhear talking about it?”

Gladwynn began to spoon the stir fry into a dish. “I think Derek’s daughter and daughter-in-laws but I couldn’t see them. They said Samantha said she was his daughter but they didn’t believe her and one of them said she was glad Samantha was dead so she wouldn’t get any of their money.”

Lucinda frowned as Gladwynn placed the bowl in the table and turned to pull the plates out of the cupboard. “Did you tell Tanner what you heard?”

“Yes, I called him before you came home.”

“And what did he say?

“That he will look into it.”

“Then he will. The police will figure this out.”

She sat and filled Lucinda in on her conversation with Eileen as well.

Lucinda sighed. “Poor Eileen. What a tough thing for her to deal with.” She reached over and laid her hand on Gladwynn’s. “Now, hon’ you know you can’t figure this all out on your own. Let the police do their jobs now. I want you to go upstairs and rest after dinner, okay? Take your mind off things. You finish setting the table and I’ll go tell your father dinner is ready.”

When she did go upstairs later, though, Gladwynn couldn’t rest. Her mind kept going back to her conversation with Luke, to that missing button on his suit coat.

She rolled over on the bed and sent a text to Laurel to try to stop thinking about the theories of why the button had been in Samantha’s room.

Have you asked Lance why he didn’t sign the papers?

Laurel: He said he thought he signed everything and told me to have my lawyer send it back to his lawyer

Gladwynn: Then it will be final?

Laurel: Yes, technically, but really, it’s already been signed off by the judge so it is final.

Gladwynn: And you’re sure you want it final?

Laurel: Gladwynn. Stop. Yes. I want it final. This isn’t a Hallmark movie. We aren’t getting back together.

Gladwynn: I understand, but if you change your mind, you know it would be okay to admit you made the wrong decision.

Laurel: Anything new on the Mors case?

Gladwynn: Maybe. I’ll fill you in later. I’ve passed it on to Tanner and I’m not sure how much to share yet.

Laurel: Fill me in when you can. Back to the grindstone for me. See you tomorrow.

Gladwynn rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling for several moments before closing her eyes and letting sleep overtake her, drawing her into a hazy world where Luke laughed with his blue eyes shining and Samantha fell onto the carpet with her eyes wide open over and over until Gladwynn woke up gasping.

She spent the rest of the day reading books, listening to Harry Connick Jr., and wishing she’d never found that button.

***

In some ways Gladwynn was surprised when her father agreed to go to church with them the next day. He’d been mainly working in his father’s office since he’d arrived. They had also talked very little since their conversation over dinner on his first night in town. Gladwynn had a feeling they’d both been avoiding each other, but church was important to them both and this was one day where they’d need to put their issues aside.

Missing a Sunday service when she was growing up was rarely allowed unless someone was sick. She’d missed services more than she should have in college but after college her faith became even more of a center of her life and she had returned to regular attendance.  

There were times she doubted her father’s pride in her, but she didn’t doubt that his faith was an important part of his life. She wasn’t sure if it was the center of his life like it had once been most of his life, but she hoped it would be again one day if it wasn’t now.

Rain smacked against the windshield as her father drove and she looked down at her hot pink shoes and realized she should have worn rain boots. Wearing inappropriate footwear for the weather was a common theme for her. She’d wanted to change that, but she thought the rain had been mainly sprinkles when she woke up. Now it was a full-on downpour and running from the parking lot to the church in these shoes would be a challenge.

Seeing Luke was going to be another challenge. She’d much rather deal with the shoe challenge.

No matter how many theories she came up with about how Luke’s button broke off in Samantha’s room she came back to one that made more sense than the worst possibility. Samantha and Luke had been having some sort of affair. If that was true, though, then why hadn’t Luke seemed more upset by Samantha’s death? He wasn’t callous to the news by any means but he also didn’t act like a grieving lover.

A small-town pastor who encouraged others to live like Christ from the pulpit while being involved in a secret sexual affair was a hard concept for Gladwynn to wrap her mind around. He didn’t seem the type of man who would speak with a forked tongue as the saying went, but she supposed it was possible.

As William parked the car her stomach clenched with a sudden horrible thought. What if Luke and Samantha had been having an affair and she’d threaten to tell the church board? That would have been plenty of motivation for him to murder her.

As soon as she glimpsed him in the doorway of the church smiling as parishioners arrived, though, she couldn’t seem to accept either of the most sensational theories she’d come up with. She couldn’t imagine Luke as someone who would sleep with a woman he wasn’t married to nor could she imagine him being a violent person who would murder anyone.

She watched him shake hands with Tanner’s sister and then Tanner himself. Tanner had recently started attending more regularly. Doris was next and then a woman she didn’t recognize but who was carrying a baby. Luke touched the baby’s head gently and Gladwynn’s chest constricted. There just had to be a perfectly innocent explanation for why his broken button had been in Samantha’s bedroom.

“Earth to Gladwynn!”

She snapped back to her surroundings at the snap of Lucinda’s finger and thumb in front of her face.

“Oh! Yes, what?”

“Good grief, what color are the clouds in your sky this morning, girl?” Lucinda asked with a laugh. “Your father has pulled up front to let us out so we don’t have to run in the rain. Are you ready?”

Gladwynn grabbed her purse and Bible. “Of course. Thank you.”

“You should have drunk the rest of that smoothie I made for you,” Lucinda said as they walked under the porch toward the front door. “You seem like you need some energy.”

“I’d be in the bathroom most of the service if I had,” Gladwynn responded in a whisper.

She prayed that Luke would disappear to get ready for the service before she and Lucinda reached the front door but instead, he caught her gaze and smiled.

“Ah, my favorite Scottish ladies are here. Good morning to you.”

He offered two quick kisses on each of Lucinda’s cheeks and then reached his hand out to Gladwynn. She slid her hand into his slowly as his fingers wrapped around hers in a gentle shake. The palm of his hand was soft and warm.

“Good morning, Gladwynn. Are you feeling better today?”

She stared into his blue eyes, her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Better?”

His smile faded slightly. “Yes, better than you were yesterday after the funeral.”

“Oh. Right. Yes, I do feel better. Much better. Just needed a cup of coffee and a nap.”

His rich laughter tickled across her skin. “That sounds like a bit of an odd combination, but okay.”

Lucinda nudged her gently in the ribs with her elbow. “This one can drink coffee before bed and still sleep. Must be nice, eh?”

Luke laughed again. “It must be, yes. I have a fairly high toleration for caffeine myself. Not that high, however.” He glanced at Gladwynn’s shoes. “Still wearing shoes not meant for the weather we’re having I see.” He grinned and warmth flushed from her chest into her face.

Music began to play at the front of the church before she could respond. “Oh,” he said. “Excuse me. I need to get ready for the service. I’ll see you ladies later.”

William slid into their pew with them a few minutes later, his hair and suit coat damp but not soaked. He gave a quick look at Jacob sitting next to his mother, then focused his attention on the worship team as they started the first song.

Gladwynn did her best to concentrate during the service, but she found herself trying to imagine Luke with an angry face, grabbing on to Samantha and tossing her around the room. No matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t. She was grateful when the service ended and she, her father, and Lucinda headed out into the sunshine that had now broke through. Luke hadn’t been at the back of the church when they’d left and she was relieved.

“What do you girls think about lunch at the country club this afternoon?” William asked as they left the church. “I’ve been meaning to visit there all week and this would be a nice time to do it before I leave Tuesday for the conference.”

Lucinda looked over her shoulder at Jacob who was speaking to another parishioner. “I would love to but I invited Jacob over for lunch and have a roast in the crockpot remember?”

William adjusted his tie and took a deep breath. Gladwynn watched his jaw clench slightly before he said, “I’m sure the roast will be fine until we get home and Jacob can follow us if he’d like to come.”

“I’ll ask him what he thinks,” Lucinda said. “A dinner out would be nice and we can always have the roast for lunch tomorrow.”

“We’ll meet you in the car,” William said in a tone that sounded to Gladwynn a lot like a teenager who wanted to do something fun but was told he had to do a chore instead.

A few minutes later as Gladwynn pulled her door closed William turned around to look at her from the driver’s seat. “Why didn’t you tell me about Jacob and your grandmother.”

“Tell you what?”

“They are clearly seeing each other.”

“Yes, they see each other. They’re not blind.”

“This isn’t the time for your humor, Gladwynn. My mother is dating a man and you didn’t think to tell me about it?”

“You and I don’t exactly check in with each other if you haven’t noticed.”

A vein near William’s eye flinched. “I have noticed but that’s not my doing.”

Gladwynn tipped her head. “Isn’t it? I don’t recall receiving a bunch of calls from you that I never returned.”

William hugged out a frustrated breath. “You have made it clear in the past that you don’t appreciate my interference in your life so why would I call?”

“Is saying, ‘hello, my dear daughter, Gladwynn. How are you doing?’ really interference or is it just a father showing he cares?” She pasted the broadest smile on her face that she could.

William pressed a hand to his forehead. “Then I apologize. I will try to remedy that in the future but as you will recall, when I have asked you in the past how you are all you have said is ‘fine.’ That word really doesn’t give a father much to go on to know how you are actually doing.”

Gladwynn leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, laying her hands folded on her knee. “Because saying much more opens the door for you to criticize my life decisions.”

William was glaring now. “Gladwynn, as I have said before, I am only expressing concern, not criticism. Now quickly, before your grandmother gets back, how long have your grandmother and Jacob been dating?”

Gladwynn lifted her chin slightly, liking the fact that she had information her father didn’t have, yet so desperately wanted. “She doesn’t like to call it dating. She simply says they are enjoying each other’s company or spending time together.”

“Fine. How long have they been enjoying each other’s company?”

Gladwynn sighed, deciding to stop toying with her father “I’m not actually sure. They were enjoying each other’s company for an unspecified amount of time before I arrived here. I only found out when I saw them out together at a local diner and it took me a bit to drag it out of her.”

“Well, I –”

Gladwynn waved her hand and pointed out the windshield. Lucinda was almost to the car. “Save your closing argument for later, counselor. The defendant is on her way back.”

Lucinda slid into the passenger seat with a soft sigh. “Jacob says he thinks it would be nice for us to have a family dinner together and he will catch us tomorrow for some lunch. He’s going to go grab a grilled cheese at the diner. I tried to talk him coming with us, but he insisted.”

William started the car. “That was nice of him. He was completely welcome to join us, however.”

Lucinda patted William’s arm. “I’m sure he was. Thank you, William for this spontaneous plan. I haven’t eaten at the club restaurant in years. I didn’t realize you were still a member.”

William backed out of the parking space. “Send in my donation every year.”

Gladwynn wasn’t as thrilled about going out for lunch, but when she’d visited the country club with her parents as a child and teenager, she’d always loved the food, the atmosphere, and the second story view of the golf course below.

She noticed that the country club had changed more than she expected as they made their way up the long road to the restaurant portion of it. An addition had been added to the front of the club house and it looked like the course had been expanded.

Inside, the restaurant had definitely been renovated with the addition of large windows in the dining area that made the view of the course and the hills surrounding it even more picturesque. The walls were now painted white, making the entire space look large and brighter. Each table was fitted with a white tablecloth and red napkins. The bar area had also been refurbished and improved with a long, curved bar stretching around a mirror that reflected the entire dining room. Gladwynn found this fact both fascinating and terrifying. She wasn’t sure how she felt about everyone in the dining room being able to see her eat from any and every angle.

The waiter sat them at a table near the large windows and took their drink orders.

William opened the menu they’d been handed. “Quite an improvement to the place. Almost looks like something you’d find in the city now.”

Gladwynn knew that William saying “something you’d find in the city” meant he felt it was up to his standards. She wasn’t exactly sure when he’d developed a wealthy standard. Her family had always had more money than most with her father being a corporate lawyer, but they’d never been at the level of the Thornton family.

Still, over the last 15 years or so, her parents had become more particular about the restaurants they ate at, the people they associated with, the clothes they wore, the places they visited, the cars they drove. More and more of their life became focused on what they looked like to others and if they were popular or not.

To be popular they seemed to need the finest clothes, a house in a “better” part of town. This had started while Gladwynn was in high school and only got worse while she was in college. She half expected her father to tell her one day how important it was for her to marry within her class.

Luckily her sister had married “within their class” when she’d married a doctor straight of college and immediately began having children.

Gladwynn looked over her menu at her father, studying him and wondering what switch had been flipped in his early 40s to take him from casual and relaxed to stuffy and uptight.

“So that was a nice sermon.” He spoke without looking up from the menu. “The pastor seems like a fine young man. Not up to Dad’s standards, of course, but I’m sure that will come with time.”

Lucinda laid her menu down. “He’s young and he’s not your father. Of course he won’t preach the same way. We like him very much.” She smiled at Gladwynn. “Don’t we Gladwynn?

Gladwynn narrowed her eyes and looked at Lucinda a few seconds then looked back at the menu. “Yes,” she mumbled. “He’s a good speaker.” She laid the menu down. “I think I’ll have the grilled chicken salad.” She made sure not to make eye contact with Lucinda. “So, Dad, have you talked to Sheena recently?”

She knew she’d regret asking about her talented older sister, but at least it would steer the conversation from her personal life.

William laid his menu down. “Yes, actually. She’s on tour in Australia right now and will play at Buckingham Palace in October. I was sure she would have told you that already?”

The regret solid in her chest, Gladwynn reached for her water and took a long drink “I can’t imagine why she would. We rarely talk.”

She’d never been super close to either of her sisters, but as the oldest child, Sheena was almost from an entire other generation. Gladwynn had little in common with her other than their love of music. Sheena was currently on tour with the London Philharmonic as a violinist. Her talent was something Sheena and her parents had nurtured since she’d been very young and Gladwynn had always been impressed with her dedication, if not a little bit jealous of the attention it brought her.

She didn’t dislike Sheena, but they didn’t often talk and when they did, Sheena didn’t exactly confide in her.

William continued to share some more about Sheena’s accomplishments and then the waiter came to take their order. Gladwynn was thankful for the break.

William stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to visit the men’s room.”

Gladwynn let out a breath as he walked toward the back of the restaurant and relaxed back in her seat.

“Could you be any more tense?” Lucinda asked, squeezing a lemon into her water.

Gladwynn shrugged her shoulder. “I could. Do you want me to try?”

“Clearly, I was joking, young lady. Now, you really shouldn’t –”

Lucinda’s eyes widened and she tilted her head to one side suddenly.

Gladwynn’s heart pounded in alarm. “Grandma? Are you okay? Are you having a muscle cramp?” She reached her hand out to touch Lucinda’s arm. “A stroke?”

Lucinda straightened her head and narrowed her eyes. “No, I’m not having a stroke. I’ve just spotted someone who might know more about who killed Samantha.”

Gladwynn scowled. “Why didn’t you just say that?” She started to look over her shoulder. “Who?”

Lucinda grabbed her hand. “Don’t look! We don’t want to be obvious.”

“How else am I going to see who you’re talking about?”

“Fine, but turn slowly.”

Gladwynn turned slowly in her chair. Michael Thornton was sitting two tables away with another man. Both were wearing suits and both wore serious expressions as they spoke.

She turned back to face Lucinda. “Well, so what? What can we do about him being here? We can’t just go over there and talk to him.”

Lucinda bit her lower lip. “I could.”

“No, you couldn’t.” Gladwynn shook her head. “You don’t even know him.”

“I knew his father and I could –”

“Grandma. No. We are not getting involved. We are not police officers. We are a newspaper reporter and a retired, elderly woman.”

Lucinda mocked gasped. “Elderly? Gladwynn, really. How could you call me elderly?” She smiled and lightly touched a hand to the bun her hair was pulled into. “I don’t feel a day over 30.” She lowered her voice as she sipped her water. “A day over 30 times three, but that is besides the point.”

“How do you think he even got in?” Gladwynn asked in a whisper. “He isn’t even local so how does he have a membership?”

“You don’t actually have to be a member to eat at the restaurant,” Lucinda responded. “But also – he’s a billionaire, remember?”

William’s return to the table ended the conversation. After they placed their orders, Gladwynn couldn’t help but wonder what Michael and the other man were talking about. She had just told her grandmother that they needed to stay out of it and now here she was wanting to get into it somehow, see if she could overhear anything that would incriminate Derek’s family in Samantha’s death.

She really needed to listen to her own advice, but she wasn’t going to.

Fiction Friday: Gladwynn Grant Takes Center Stage Chapter 10 and Chapter 11

As always, this is a work in progress and there could be (will be) typos, plot holes, and other errors but those will be fixed before the book is published a couple of months from now.

If you want to read the first book in the series, you can find it on Amazon HERE.

If you don’t want to read this story in chapters on a blog and would rather read the fully-finished and polished version, you can pre-order it HERE.

If you want to learn more about my other books you can find links to them HERE

Chapter 10

The drive to Laddsburg was scenic, relaxing and definitely breathtaking. The road curved up and down and then around several wooded areas before opening out into a valley featuring wide open fields where old-fashioned farm tractors sat by large bales of hay and cows wandered. On the hill above the Valley was a white church building against a brilliantly blue, cloudless sky.

Gladwynn was so distracted by the church she almost missed the turn off Templeton Road that her grandmother had told her about. She hadn’t even gone half a mile when an old-fashioned stone wall covered in vines and beautiful white and light purple flowers caught her attention.

Her breath caught as a cobblestone cottage surrounded by wildflowers came into view beyond the wall. A dirt driveway passed between stone wall, leading to a more modern looking garage separate from the cottage.

Her grandmother was right. The cottage was beautiful. Like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. She turned into the driveway slowly, taking in the beautifully finished wooden front porch, a slight departure from the more vintage feel of the rest of the cottage. Morning glory stretched up outside the red front door, the hedgerow had been shaped into the most pleasing square shape, and lavender sprouted up in the flower beds under the front windows.

She shut the car off and simply sat for a few moments, admiring the dark green hillside behind the cottage, watching a herd of Jersey cows grazing in the meadow at the lower end of it, and smelling freshly cut hay. Her gaze dropped to a small barn or stable behind the garage. It and a pasture were surrounded by a white fence. Luke was walking from the open door, his appearance startling her.

Gone were the neat khakis and white dress shirt she was used to seeing him in. He was wearing a stained gray t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and brown heavy work boots. Dark brown dirt was smeared on one cheek and light blond whiskers dotted his jawline. He hadn’t seen her yet, he was looking at the ground as he walked, his hand on the back of his neck, a frown creasing his brow.

She knew she couldn’t back out without him seeing her. Would he be bothered that she was seeing him unpolished, so to speak? She reached for the casserole dish as he reached the end of the gravel area near the garage and started to turn toward the house.

He must have caught the movement of her opening the car door out of the corner of his eye because he looked up quickly, a surprised expression on his face that quickly morphed into a smile.

“Oh hallo,” he said as she stepped out of the car. “I didn’t know I had a visitor.”

She stepped forward and held the casserole dish out toward him as he turned to face her more directly. “Grandma asked me to drop this off to you.”

Sweat glistened on his forehead as he walked toward her and she briefly wondered how smelly he might be after clearly working in his barn. When he came closer, though, she caught a whiff of fresh hay, vanilla and orange and nothing else.

He reached for the dish. “Ah, there’s my dish that your kleptomaniac grandmother stole.” He winked. “She didn’t need to rush getting it back. I told her that she could bring it to church Sunday instead.”

Instead she made me drive it out here so we would be forced to talk to each other, Gladwynn thought as he took the dish. She probably took the dish on purpose in the first place.

“Well, you know Grandma. When she wants something done, she wants it done now.”

Luke laughed, small lines crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes. “Aye, that’s true, but she also gets a lot done that needs to be done. Without her, the church and community as a whole would surely be lost.”

Gladwynn tipped her head in agreement. “Our family would be as well.” She gestured to the cottage and barn. “Your home is gorgeous.”

“Thank you. It’s a bit of Northern Ireland for me in Pennsylvania. This area already feels like home but this cottage and the land around it makes it feel even more like home.”

A chicken clucked and she looked down to see the light brown bird pecking at her shoes. Luke waved at the chicken. “Hey, Helen, get lost. Those are shoes, not food.”

An amused smile tugged at her mouth. “Helen? You named your chicken Helen?”

He grinned. “Sure did. Her feathers are the same color of my sixth-grade teacher’s hair and her name was Helen. So, therefore, this chicken is Helen.”

“Do you name all of your chickens?”

“Of course, I do. It’s the polite thing to do. I can’t very well say, hey chick number ten, move over, I need to get your eggs. Instead I can say, ‘Beatrice, move aside, love. I’d like to take your eggs for my breakfast.’”

She let out a laugh at the same moment a pig snorted from somewhere to the left. “You have pigs too?”

“I certainly do.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the house. “Let me go put this dish inside and I’ll introduce you to Herbert.”

He returned a few moments later and held his hand out toward the barn. “Right this way.”

She fell in step with him and they walked toward the barn, taking a stone sidewalk that looked hand built around the garage to get there.

She twirled her keys on her finger as she walked. “I hope this question doesn’t come off as nosey or rude, but you built all this on a pastor’s salary?”

He laughed as he opened the front gate leading to the small barn, which now that she was closer could see had recently been freshly painted red and featured an American flag hanging on the side.

 “No, actually. I built it on the inheritance by uncle left me in his will. It was small but enough to help me truly make Marson County my home.”

A loud snort turned her attention to a large brown and white pig waddling toward her across a mud-covered pasture. Or was it a hog? She wasn’t sure.

“There he is,” Luke declared. “Herbert The Pig himself.”

The beast smelled awful but something about his face was endearing and she couldn’t help stooping down, reaching her hand in through the fence, and scratching his rough head.

From her stooped position she could see a small chicken coup on the other side of the pasture. “You’re running a real farm here, it looks like.” She stood and couldn’t miss the amused smile on his face. “Thinking of stepping out of the pulpit and into the manure full time?”

He laughed loudly and once again she was struck with what a pleasant, masculine sound it was. “Not at all. The animals are simply my friends, my hobby, and sometimes my lunch.”

Her eyes narrowed and then she glanced back at the pig. “But not Herbert, right?”

He reached over the fence and patted Herbert’s large rump. “Definitely Herbert. Sad to say, he’ll be on my breakfast plate soon too. Parts of him anyhow.”

A small gasp came from her. “You’re going to butcher him?”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am indeed.” His blues eyes twinkled, matching the smile he was wearing as he leaned one arm on top of the fence post. “My mouth waters just thinking about it.”

Now she was even more horrified. “Luke Callahan! That’s just awful. You treat this little pig like your friend today and tomorrow you’re just going to slaughter him?”

“No, not tomorrow. He’s not fat enough yet. Probably next spring.” He paused and studied her briefly before asking. “What are you some kind of vegetarian?” Then he laughed. “You don’t have to answer that, I know you’re not a vegetarian. I saw you put away at least three hamburgers at the church picnic a couple of weeks ago.

Her cheeks blazed hot. It sounded like he was suggesting she was as much of a pig as Herbert at this point. “No, I’m not a vegetarian but it’s different when you actually see what you’re eating while it’s still alive.” She rubbed the hog’s head as it grunted.

He sighed. “You’re a weird one, Gladwynn Grant.”

She cleared her throat and stopped petting Herbert. “And with that, I have to get to work.”

She turned and began to walk toward her car, stopping when she felt a hand on her elbow. She glanced up and Luke’s expression was serious. “Now. Now. Don’t be offended. I didn’t mean that you were a pig or anything. Just that you definitely eat meat.”

She nodded. “I definitely do, but I hope you don’t offer any of Herbert to me in the future because I would be horrified.”

He laid a hand on his chest. “On my honor, I will not feed you a bit of Herbert at any time – not even his tasty, melt-in-your mouth shanks I plan to cook one lovely Sunday afternoon in the spring.”

She made a face. The entire conversation, coupled with the sight of him looking so rugged, was shattering her perception of Pastor Luke Callahan and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

In turns out that Luke wasn’t always perfectly dressed or wearing a dazzling, clean-shaven smile. He didn’t only wear dress shirts and khakis after all. And he also possessed a slightly dark and very edgy sense of humor. The realization that he was different than what she’d pegged him to be made her feel a little woozy.

He fell in step with her on the way back to her car.

Her next question fell out before she’d really had time to think it through. “I was just wondering — how well did you know Samantha Mors?”

He stopped walking and looked at her with wide eyes. “That’s an out of the blue question. I guess it’s an occupational hazard, eh?”

She tipped her head down slightly and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth briefly, her cheeks warm again. “Yeah, I guess it is. Sorry.”

He laughed softly. “It’s okay.” He rubbed his chin. “I didn’t know her super well, to be honest. She attended church a few times and we talked a few times. She mentioned once that she had lived in Chicago at one time and I attended seminary near there so we talked about that.”

“Did she ever mention anyone who might want to hurt her?”

He shook his head. “Not directly no, but I don’t feel it would be right to share anything specific from our private conversations. It would feel to like a breach of her privacy.”

“The privacy of a dead woman?”

“Yeah. As weird as it sounds, I still feel I should respect her, even in death, and not share her secrets.”

“So, she told you secrets?”

He tipped his face away and shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Gladwynn, you have indeed learned the art of rewording questions to try to convince your subject to share.” The smile faded and a more serious expression crossed his face. “It won’t work on me, though. The conversations between Samantha and I were private conversation between a pastor and someone who came to him for prayer. I don’t feel comfortable sharing the details with anyone at this time.”

“What about the police?”

“What about them?”

“Would you share with them?”

“They’d have to have a very compelling reason for me to share with them.”

“A woman is dead. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“I won’t know until I know what they need to know and last I looked you weren’t the police.” The smile had slowly returned, a sight she welcomed since the last few minutes had introduced a tension between them that she wasn’t used to or fond of.

She cleared her throat and pulled her gaze from the lopsided smile that was increasing her heart rate. “All I am saying is that if you have information that could help the investigation into who killed Samantha Mors don’t you feel that you have a moral obligation to share that information?”

He folded his arms across his chest, widening his stance, the smile remaining in place. “I will share the information if I am asked to do so but at this point, I have not been asked to do so.” He rocked back on his heels for a brief moment. “Gladwynn, sometimes I think you’re just a bit too curious for your own good. I thought your job was to cover news stories, not investigate crimes.”

Defensive irritation bristled through her. “Part of the job of a reporter is to also investigate when it is needed.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you covering this story? It seems to me it would be a conflict if you were, since I understand you discovered her body.”

“I didn’t. Doris did, but I was there, yes, and, no, I am not covering the story, but—”

He held his arms out to his side and shrugged. “Then you don’t need to investigate, do you? I worry about you, Gladwynn. One day you’re going to ask the wrong person the wrong question and get yourself in trouble.”

She raised an eyebrow, her palms dampening with sweat. “Is that a threat, Luke Callahan?”

Luke threw his head back and let out a loud laugh, breaking through some of the tension. “A threat? Really? You’ve been reading too many Agatha Christie novels, little lady.” He tipped his head down and looked at her, the smile fading slightly as he took a step toward her. “No. It was not a threat. It was concern being expressed by not only your pastor but by someone who cares deeply for you and doesn’t want to see harm come to you.”

Gladwynn swallowed hard, unable to pull her gaze from his for a few seconds before her phone began ringing from the car. She took a step back toward the driver’s side of the car. “I should get this. It might be my boss asking where I am.”

He slid his hands in his jean pockets. “You better get going then. I appreciate your visit, though. No matter how brief.”

She opened the door, the phone still ringing.  “Thank you again for the tour of your lovely property.”

“You’re welcome. Any time. See you in church, Sunday?”

“Of course.” She hoped the tension she felt wasn’t evident in her tone, but she was sure it was. Sliding behind the steering wheel she slid her sunglasses on and started the car, wishing the top was up so she could let her calm expression fade away as she backed out of the driveway. The phone had stopped ringing but she could see from the caller ID that it was Tanner who had called.

She smiled again at the end of the driveway and waved as she started down the dirt road, but as soon as Luke was out of view, a frown creased her eyebrow and turned her mouth downward.

Why had he been so odd about sharing what he and Samantha had talked about? He’d said that he hadn’t known her well but then said she’d shared secrets with him.

Plus there was that weirdness at the end of their conversation. How should she interpret him saying he cared deeply for her? Did he care for her as a friend or more? And if he cared deeply for her, why wouldn’t he tell her what he and Samantha had spoken about?

Chapter 11

She called Tanner once she was in better cell service, which was when she was almost back to town.

“Do you have something you’re supposed to be dropping off to me?” he asked without returning her greeting.

His voicemail had been terse, asking only for her to call him. She’d had a feeling she was in trouble then. Now she knew she was.

“Do I?”

“Your grandmother called me an hour ago and said you had a letter for me. She said you would fill me in but that it was from Samantha Mors’ apartment.”

Gladwynn rolled her eyes. She’d told Lucinda she’d handle it, but clearly Lucinda felt she needed an extra push.

He continued, his voice dripping with passive aggressiveness. “I’m guessing you were intending to stop by and give me the letter but were busy with work and simply forgot.”

“Yes, actually, I have been very busy.”

“I’d like to have the letter, please. I can either swing by your office and pick it up or you can drop it off to me.”

She turned the car onto the main road and sighed. “I have a staff meeting that I am late for and a couple of stories to write and then I’m heading home for dinner. I’ll swing by and drop it off on my way back from dinner, if that works for you.”

“You do understand that withholding evidence from the police during an investigation is a crime, correct?”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a few moments. “Yes, but I didn’t mean to withhold it. I just wanted to read it and see if it would offer any clues to who might have killed Samantha. I knew if I took it to you that you’d say Grandma and I were snooping.”

“Please tell me that you did not drag your grandmother into your amateur sleuthing activities.”

“I didn’t do anything. We were simply looking for scripts in Samantha’s apartment. Finding the letter was an accident. You’re right, though, I should have taken it to you as soon as I read it.”

“No, you should have brought it to me as soon as you found it. You shouldn’t have been reading anything you found there.”

Gladwynn’s muscles tensed at his scolding tone. “And you or the other detectives should have found it when you searched the apartment, but here we are.”

“You are interfering in an investigation and now you’re calling into question the competence of the state police. That’s just great. You’re really batting zero right now, Gladwynn. I don’t care if you have a staff meeting or dinner to go to. You’ll bring me that letter now or I’ll show up at your office in a police cruiser with all the lights on and the siren blaring and take it from you.”

As much as his tone grated on her, she knew he was right. She was interfering in a police investigation and she had been wrong not to give him the letter as soon as she found it, even if he had told her she was a snoop and scolded her in front of his co-worker. “I’ll call my boss and tell him I need to stop at the barracks and will be late to my meeting.”

“See that you do.”

She hung up quickly and called Liam as she turned on the road to head toward the barracks.

The state police barracks was located at a busy intersection outside of town. Of course, by Brookstone standards busy meant a stoplight, a McDonalds, and a mini-strip mall with a Dollar General, a chain drugstore (they seemed to rotate every few years) and a diner. Gladwynn hadn’t been inside the barracks yet since moving there and she was curious to see what it looked like inside.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t see much other than the four brick walls of the lobby and a bullet proof see-through glass window with a small opening to her right. In front of her was a thick metal door, clearly enhanced with a heavy duty, silver lock with a keypad. In the center of the door was a small window that she imagined was one of those one-sided windows so they could look out but whoever was in the lobby couldn’t look in.

“Can I help you?”

A gruff female voice startled her and she noticed that a woman had appeared at the larger window with the counter. The woman had activated a speaker with a push of a button. Gladwynn could also faintly hear voices in the background and the click of computer keys.

“Yes, I’m here to see Detective Kinney.”

She was proud she hadn’t called him by his first name or accidentally assigned him the title of officer, like she had when she’d first started her job. The state police employed troopers, not officers, and now Tanner wasn’t even a trooper. He was a detective and she had to remember this change as well.

“Can I tell him who is here?”

The woman seemed to be a civilian, dressed in a white blouse and gray skirt. She was thin with a face that might have been pleasant if it wasn’t for the bored expression she wore and the way her graying blond hair was pulled firmly back from her long face in a tight bun. Her matronly look was topped off with a pair of small, round, silver wire-rimmed glasses. Gladwynn was certain she’d seen this same woman in every movie featuring a stern school principal as the villain.

“Gladwynn Grant. He’s expecting me.”

The woman’s expression didn’t change as she touched a hand to the speaker and all went silent on Gladwynn’s end. The woman picked up a phone said something into it, hung up and touched the button on the counter again. “He’ll be here in a moment.”

The woman turned slowly and sat at a cluttered desk with a computer, a stained coffee mug and a pile of papers. Gladwynn tapped her hand against her hip as she waited, wishing they had music in the lobby instead of the sterile silence inside a sterile brick room with two black chairs and a wall covered with legal warnings, a poster of America’s Most Wanted, and flyers showing parents how to install car seats.

Several minutes passed and she finally decided to sit in one of the chairs, trying not to think of how many other people had sat there and all the germs that might be on the leather seat or the metal armrests.

After almost ten minutes, a sharp click and the groan of the metal door signaled someone was coming into the lobby. That someone was Tanner wearing a dress shirt, a pair of gray dress pants, and a scowl.

He held out his hand, which she noticed was covered in a white rubber glove. “Letter?”

The door clanked closed behind him.

Gladwynn stood and hooked her purse strap over her shoulder. “No, ‘hello Miss Grant?’ Good evening? How are you today?’”

“No. You’re holding on to evidence in a criminal investigation. Now is not the time for polite and inane banter.”

She sighed and reached into her purse, pulling out the letter, which she had made a copy of in the office earlier in the day.

He snatched it from her hand. “Anything else you’re withholding?”

She wanted to say ‘no’ but she’d also been raised to be honest so she dug into the small inner pocket of the purse and found the half of the button. She laid it in the palm of his outstretched hand.

“Where did you find this?”

“In the carpet under the edge of Samantha’s bed.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You were searching her room? After we’d already been there?”

“No, I was not. My foot kicked it out of the bristles of the rug, or whatever they are called, and I picked it up. I thought it might have broken off the clothes or uniforms of one of your team or even the EMTs.”

“The fabric of the rug you mean?”

“The fabric, the bristles. Whatever.”

Tanner slid the button in his pocket. “You realize that you have contaminated the crime scene by removing items from it, correct? You also put your fingerprints all over these items, making it almost impossible for us to pick fingerprints up off of them.”

“I believe the scene was released by your department, if I’m not mistaken. Plus, can you even pick fingerprints off of paper?”

“If you were in law enforcement you would know that most paper has a fairly porous surface and therefore, we would have been able to pick fingerprints up off of it. Now all we’ll be able to pick up is your fingerprints.”

“And maybe Samantha’s, but I doubt there would have been any others on there anyhow because it was shoved up in the top of the drawer. I don’t even think the murderer knew it was there.”

Tanner closed his eyes briefly and a muscle jumped in his smooth-shaven, square jaw, a movement that fascinated Gladwynn. A small growl came from his throat. “You’re welcome to leave now that you’ve handed over the letter. In the future don’t meddle in our investigation or take evidence. If you find something you believe would be pertinent to our investigation then please contact us and we will come to you, not the other way around.”

Gladwynn tried not to smile at his use of the word pertinent. Why didn’t he just use the word important instead? She resisted the overwhelming urge to give him a salute as he turned to go back through the metal door.

“You’re welcome,” she said instead.

He glanced at her as he punched in numbers on the keypad, the letter in his other hand. “I will not be saying ‘thank you’ but you’re welcome to have a nice evening.”

“Do you have a cause of death for Samantha yet?”

He held the door open and looked at her with an expression that said he was five seconds from blowing his top, but was trying really hard not to. “You cannot be serious right now.”

She smiled and tipped her head to one side. “Just thought I’d ask. In case you were feeling generous with information.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “I’m not.”

The door slammed loudly behind him and she took that as her cue to leave. She wouldn’t find out any more information from Detective Tanner Kinney today.

***

After leaving the barracks, attending the staff meeting, and writing a couple of stories, Gladwynn decided she should head home for dinner with her father, even though she hadn’t planned to and didn’t really want to talk to him. It didn’t seem right, though, for him to be there alone on his first night visiting.

Her father’s BMW was parked in the driveway when Gladwynn arrived. William Grant stepped out of the driver’s side as she placed her car into park. Always dressed as if he was on his way to an important meeting, he wore a pair of square-shaped gold rimmed glasses, gray dress pants, black dress shoes, a button-up white dress shirt and a red tie. He’d at least taken his suit coat off for the four-hour drive. How he hadn’t taken his tie off or at least loosened it was beyond her.

She hadn’t seen him in person since moving to Brookstone nine months earlier. His brown hair was showing even more specks of gray along the hairline and though he’d always been tall and lanky, he seemed even thinner, especially in the face.

He was clean-shaven, as always, and wore a neutral expression as he raised a hand in greeting and then stepped to the trunk of the car and opened it.

“Did you just get here?” she asked as she stepped out of her car.

“About five minutes ago, yes.” He lifted a suitcase from the trunk. “Your grandmother told me neither of you would be here.”

“I changed my mind. I didn’t think it would be nice to expect you to eat alone on your first night here.”

He shut the trunk. “I would have been fine. I know where everything is and can handle warming up a casserole on my own.”

Always so matter of fact. It was one of a few personality traits of his that grated on her nerves. There were many times she wasn’t sure if he was simply being practical, truly didn’t have a feeling one way or another about an issue, or was preparing to scold her.

She bent her ankle back and forth as he lifted the suitcase and walked toward the house, feeling more like a young girl than an independent 28-year-old woman. That was one of the main sticking points of her relationship with her parents. Both of them seemed to forget she was a grown woman now.

William looked over his shoulder from where he was standing on the porch by the front door. “Should I get the key from under the back mat or would you like to open it for me?”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

With the door unlocked they walked inside and he headed straight for the stairs. “I’m going to put my suitcase upstairs and wash up a bit.”

“I’ll put the casserole in the oven.”

“If you want to.”

She did want to. She was hungry. Resisting the urge to tell him this with a snarky attitude proved a challenge so she literally bit her tongue on the way to the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later she’d set the table and poured them both a glass of water with ice and lemon. The casserole smelled amazing and Pixel was rubbing against her legs and trilling adorably. She took a moment to video chat with Abbie and ask her how she was doing since they hadn’t had a chance to catch up. By the time they were done chatting – with a few interruptions from Abbie’s youngest – the casserole was ready.

She said goodbye to Abbie, reached down and scratched the top of Pixel’s head as her father walked through the door. He made a face that let her know he did not approve of the cat.

“Mother said you’d brought a cat home. I didn’t know you’d kept it.”

Gladwynn scooped Pixel up, hoping that this time she’d accept a cuddle. Instead the cat launched into her normal reaction to someone trying to cuddle her – twisting all four legs in different directions and wiggling her all-black girth in circles while yowling. Gladwynn dropped her gently to the floor and scratched her head again. “Fine. Don’t let me cuddle you. At least you let me pet you.”

“You let it in the kitchen?”

Gladwynn checked the casserole. “We let her go wherever she wants pretty much.”

“And my mother is fine with this?”

“For the most part, yes. She wasn’t at first but they’ve grown on her.”

He shook his head as he sat at the table. “How times have changed. She didn’t like pets in the house at all when we were growing up.”

Scout peeked in the back window over the sink, her signal that she wanted to come in. Gladwynn chose to ignore her, hoping she could wait until dinner was over so her father didn’t look at her in disgust like he had Pixel. She and her siblings hadn’t been allowed pets growing up and when she’d moved to her own apartment, she’d immediately adopted an older cat from a shelter. The cat had died of old age the year before she moved to Brookstone but she’d been happy she’d been able to give him a safe place to grow old.

William sniffed. “That smells delicious. It was nice of Mother to make dinner before she went to her meeting.” He sipped his water. “She tells me that you skip dinner a lot. That doesn’t sound healthy to me.”

That was a rich comment from him, considering how often the man had worked through dinner while she was growing up, choosing to stay at the office instead of coming home. She considered saying so, but instead set the casserole dish in the center of the table and then retrieved a spoon to dip it out with.

“I do what I have to do. More often than not I am home for supper actually.” She needed to remind Lucinda to not share about her habits with her father anymore.

They each dipped out the casserole and William lifted his fork. Gladwynn coughed softly. “Grandma and I always say grace.”

William nodded curtly. Saying a prayer of blessing before dinner was something they had done as a family when she was younger as well. She wondered if he and her mom had fallen out of that habit since the children had moved away, since he had been ready to eat without saying one.

She spoke a quick prayer and they said “amen” together.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “That was nice.”

They ate in silence for several moments. She wasn’t sure what to say to him and she had a feeling he wasn’t sure what to say to her either. The silence was welcoming, really. She’d expected him to start by scolding her for leaving Carter and not waiting to see if she’d get her job back at the library or find a similar one like he had before she’d accepted the job at the paper.

“So.”

She braced herself.

“Your grandmother says you witnessed something quite difficult a few days ago.”

She took a deep breath. “I didn’t really witness anything difficult necessarily. Just the aftermath of something difficult.”

“The woman was dead, though. That must have been difficult. How are you doing?”

She shrugged her shoulder. “Okay, I guess. I’d love to know who left her in that condition.” She was not about to offer up any of her theories to her dad. He’d most likely quickly dismiss her concerns.

“That reminds me.” He wiped his mouth and laid his napkin down across his lap. “Your grandmother filled me in on the story about that attempted murder case and burglary ring you ended up covering. I thought this job was a simple small town newspaper job. Shouldn’t you be writing about school assemblies, church rummage sales, and municipal meetings?”

“I do write about those things.”

He leveled a stern gaze at her. “But I hear you confronted a murderer.”

You wouldn’t have heard anything if Grandma didn’t have a big mouth. It’s not like I would have told you.

“Attempted murderer. He didn’t actually go through with it.”

Her father held his fork suspended between his plate and mouth. “He was a man who had the mental capability to consider ending another person’s life and you were alone with him on an overlook.”

“Technically, yes, but also, no. A state police trooper was also there part of the time. He was hiding in the bushes.”

“The trooper was in the bushes?”

“Well, yes, because he was listening to the man’s confession. He’s a detective now.”

“The criminal?”

“No. The trooper.”

Her father laid his fork down, rubbed his chin and pursed his lips briefly. “And now someone has actually been murdered and you were a witness?”

“Not a witness, exactly. Doris walked in and found her and I came in after Doris and called the police. We didn’t see the murder happen.”

“You’re not covering the case, are you?”

She took a long drink of water, wishing this conversation was over already. “No, my boss says it would be a conflict of interest since I may be called to testify at a future trial.”

“You’re keeping your nose out of it then, correct?”

Gladwynn sighed and tipped her head back against the chair. “Dad, what’s this conversation really about? I mean, what is really bothering you?”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Gladwynn. What is really bothering me is what the problem really is and that problem is that you are inserting yourself into situations you have nothing to do with. The Brookstone Beacon isn’t The New York Times–

The New York Times isn’t even The New York Times anymore,” Gladwynn mumbled.

William cleared his throat and Gladwynn was starting to wonder if he needed an antihistamine. “What I’m saying is that there is no need for hard-hitting investigative journalism in Brookstone. Let the police handle the investigation and–”

“I cover the news. I know.” Gladwynn folded her arms over her chest, feeling like a child again. “I’m not even covering it. My co-worker is. I merely asked a couple of people a couple of questions about Samantha and if they knew why someone would hurt her. I mean, everyone seemed to adore her. She wasn’t someone that anyone should have wanted to kill and I’m curious what led to her being taken from this world at such a young age.”

“That’s why there are police. They can ask those questions and find out the answers. You, however, can go take a photo at a ribbon cutting or a spelling bee, or somewhere else that doesn’t put you at risk.”

“I’m not putting myself at—”

“Gladwynn, someone killed this woman. Someone who still may be out there. Someone who probably won’t appreciate an upstart reporter snooping around trying to find out who they are.” William folded his napkin. “I know you think your mother and I care more about career than anything else, but that is not true. We care about you very much and don’t want to see you hurt. Your job at the library was right up your alley. It was calm, safe and —”

“And I was laid off, which wasn’t my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t, but you could have waited to see if they hired you back or found a similar job at any other number of colleges.”

“I wanted to try something different with my life, Dad. Is that a crime?”

“I didn’t say it was. All I’m saying is–”

Gladwynn stood abruptly. “All you’re saying is that my job doesn’t meet your expectations of what you think a child of yours should be doing. Well, I’m sorry about that but I like my job and I like the people here and I’m tired of being made to feel like I’m not good enough every time I talk to you.”

“That is not what –”

Gladwynn stalked through the kitchen doorway on her way to the front door. “I’m going back to work.”

“Fine. If you don’t want to continue to hash this out, then run away like you always do.”

She slammed the door and stomped down the front stairs toward her car.

She would never measure up to whatever line her father had drawn for her to measure up to. No matter what she did with her life, it would never be enough for him. At least that was how it felt at this moment. Why his comments and interrogations bothered her so much she had no idea. He had some good points. He and her mother were probably worried about her. Digging into Samantha Mors past probably wasn’t a good idea while her murderer was still out there.

She didn’t know why she felt so desperate to learn why Samantha died. Maybe because they’d been close in age.  Samantha’s opportunity to lead a fulfilling life was ripped from her by someone who felt they had the right to end her life and that angered Gladwynn as much as it broke her heart. The person who’d taken Samantha’s life needed to pay for what they done. While she knew that Tanner was perfectly capable of finding out who the guilty party was, she felt an odd sense of obligation to help him reach his goal.

Starting her car, she growled softly. She was deluding herself. Tanner Kinney didn’t need her help investigating this murder. It was curiosity that was driving her forward. Curiosity and her intense desire to be in control.

The idea that she was able to go through life enjoying sunny days, the laughter of her friend’s children, the smile of her grandmother, and the feel of lake water on her feet while Samantha had had all of that taken away from her broke her heart. She was determined to help however she could even if her father and Tanner didn’t think she should.    

Fiction Friday: Gladwynn Grant Takes Center Stage Chapter 5

Welcome to the fifth chapter of Gladwynn Grant Takes Center Stage.

As always this is a work in progress and there could be (will be) typos, plot holes, and other errors but those will be fixed before the book is published a couple of months from now.

If you want to read the first book in the series, you can find it on Amazon HERE.

If you don’t want to read this story in chapters on a blog, you can pre-order it HERE.

If you want to learn more about my other books you can find links to them HERE.

Chapter 5

Gladwynn didn’t have a municipal meeting to cover Monday night so she found herself on her way to Willowbrook theater group’s meeting to discuss what to do about the play in light of Samantha’s death. Tanner had left her a message on her phone the day before during her and Lucinda’s Sunday afternoon nap after church, so now they were playing phone tag.

He caught up to her as she pulled into the parking lot of the community center, his voice stern when she answered with a cheerful ‘hello’. “Miss Grant, I’ve told you before that I’m not free to discuss the case.”

“Wow. That was a nice greeting.”

“I just know you.”

“I called you because I remembered something I forgot to tell you Saturday. Something that might be important to the case. You told me to call you if I remembered something.”

“In that case, go ahead.”

Gladwynn slid the car into park. “I saw Samantha at the lake on Saturday afternoon. She was talking on the phone to someone and definitely looked agitated.”

“Okay. I’ll write that down.”

“Do you think it’s important?”

“It might be. What time was it?”

“Around 11 a.m. She looked very angry and seemed to be yelling.”

“Did you see anything else?”

Yes, she’d seen Samantha talking to Luke in the parking lot, but doubted that was important. Still, she should probably say something. “I saw her talking to Pastor Luke in the parking lot of the swimming area a couple hours later.”

She could hear the scratch of a pen against paper. “Pastor Luke. Right. I’ll add him to my list of people to talk to. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of. Do you have her cellphone? Maybe you could see who she was talking –”

“Are you a police officer, Miss Grant?”

“No, but I –”

“We will handle the investigation on our end. Patience is a virtue. Remember?”

Gladwynn flipped open a small makeup mirror and checked her foundation, smoothing down a bumpy area along her cheekbones. “It just seems so odd that a woman who seemed so healthy is dead. I mean, I guess it could be a medical reason but something about the way she was lying there tells me it wasn’t.”

The click of keys on a keyboard on the other end of the phone filled a brief silence. “Young people die for unclear medical reasons all the time. Many people seem healthy. It doesn’t mean they are.”

“Right, but she wasn’t very old really. What, like 29? Maybe 30? So, it just seems to me that –”

“Actually, she was 36, but you don’t need to be seeming anything, Gladwynn. What you need to do is go on with your life and let me handle this. Go to work or to your little coffee shop or shopping or whatever you do all day long. You are not part of this investigation.”

Gladwynn paused briefly, thinking how much younger Samantha had looked than 36. A few seconds later, though, it registered what Tanner had said. “My little coffee shop? Shopping?” Gladwynn raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me, but that was a bit of a sexist comment. As if women just go to coffee shops and shop all day long.”

Tanner cleared his throat. “I apologize. It was just a way of saying that you can return to whatever it was you were doing before I called you. I’m sure you were busy at work.”

Gladwynn smirked. “Actually, I just left Penny’s on Main Street looking for shoes, but that is beside the point. I don’t like the idea that you think all women do is shop and go to coffee shops.”

Tanner sighed and she could imagine him with his hand pressed against his forehead. “I suggested you go back to work, first, so calm yourself.”

Gladwynn laughed softly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go. I have important things to do anyhow. If you find out who called her, you’ll tell me, though, right?”

The line went dead.

Inside the theater, the mood was considerably subdued compared to the gathering on Saturday evening. No one was trying on costumes or arguing about who was playing what parts. Everyone except Emerald was sitting in a seat at the front of the theater.

Emerald stood in front of the seats, wearing a flowing green dress covered in dark green leaves. Her hair was held back from her face with a pair of monarch butterfly barrettes. It was clear she planned to take the lead in the conversation, directing it until a decision was made about whether to continue with the play or not.

“Personally, I think the show must go on,” she declared, clasping her hand at chest level in front of her. The movement made the sheer fabric of her sleeves slide down and Gladwynn caught sight of the edge of an ace bandage around her wrist. “Samantha would have wanted it that way.”

There were a few nods of heads in the group.

“It might be better to postpone it,” Louise said softly. “I mean, is it disrespectful to carry on as if nothing happened?”

She looked at Lucinda. “What do you think, Lucinda?”

Lucinda frowned and rubbed her chin with her hand. “It will be hard for us to continue without Samantha. She was such an important part of this group and our driving force. I don’t find it disrespectful, though, to continue with the performance. Emerald is right. Samantha would have wanted us to carry on. If anything, we would be honoring her creative and encouraging spirit by continuing.”

Gladwynn knew her grandmother’s opinion carried a lot of weight in her own family but the way everyone looked at Lucinda with clear respect as she talked reminded Gladwynn that her opinion carried a lot of weight in the community as well.

“Lucinda is right,” Floyd said. “I say we carry on. I don’t know why she said anything about Samantha and a driving fort but I’m guessing it was metaphorical.”

Gladwynn stifled a giggle behind her hand. Clearly, Floyd’s hearing aid wasn’t working again. Guilt poked at her for feeling like laughing during such a serious conversation. Samantha, a friend of most of the people in this theater, had died possibly under suspicious circumstances. Wanting to laugh about anything right now simply felt wrong.

Emerald drew in a quick breath. “Okay, then. I think we’re all in agreement. The show will go on. Rehearsals start tomorrow night.”

A sharp-toned voice spoke up. “Do we have the extra scripts that Samantha had at her house, though? And her notes?”

Gladwynn glanced down her row and saw the question had come from Martha.

Emerald’s face fell. “No, we don’t actually. Thank you for reminding me. Samantha had all those.”

The group, which had seemed to have gathered new life and excitement a moment before returned to their downcast state.  Gladwynn couldn’t imagine that any of them wanted to go to Samantha’s to retrieve them and Eileen didn’t seem like the most pleasant person to deal with, but — .

“I’ll ask Eileen if she’s seen them or if I can go get them,” she said quickly.

The entire group looked at her, relief on many of their faces. Lucinda looked at her with a grateful expression, reached over and squeezed her hand.

Gladwynn didn’t relish the idea of returning to Samantha’s apartment but she also couldn’t imagine someone who had known her as well as most of the people in the group had having to go in there after what had happened. She’d go to the retirement community manager’s office the next day and see if Eileen could help her.

She wouldn’t mind getting another look at the place anyhow. There might be a clue that she, or the police, had missed. A clue that would prove that Samantha died either from an accident or from foul play.

The meeting lasted another fifteen minutes and then the members split apart to different parts of the theater — either to discuss the set, costumes, or the script itself. Gladwynn, still not ready to commit to playing a part, avoided the actors and followed Lucinda to the prop closet down behind the stage and down the hall.

The closet was a walk-in and larger than Gladwynn had expected. It also featured some old musical instruments, what looked like old marching band uniforms, various decorations, art supplies, and rolls of fabric.

Lucinda began unfurling fabric. “Floyd and his wife have offered again this year to help with the set. Their grandson owns a construction company and Martha — you remember that’s his wife’s name. So not the other Martha. Well, anyhow, his Martha was an art teacher for 25 years so she’s going to paint some beautiful scenery for us. You weren’t here last summer but she painted this gorgeous sunset we used for our performance of Oklahoma.” She unfurled a roll of fabric with pink roses all over it. “This one might work for Anne’s dress. The one with the puffed sleeves.” She reached out to touch a blue fabric with a silkier look to it. “Or maybe this one. I’m grateful for Doris’ sewing skills. I can sew, but not as well as I can knit.”

She hooked both rolls of fabric under each arm. “I’ll be right back. I want to show Doris these and see which one she thinks will work. Can you pull out some fake flowers for us? They are in those bins back there. We’re going to need them for the set. Look for some purple and white lilies if you see any.”

Gladwynn set to work pulling out the large, red bins on the bottom shelf in the back of the closet. She knelt and popped open the lid. A musty smell rushed at her and she made a face, leaning back from it.

No lilies in this one. Only some faded flowers that looked like they’d been pulled off a gravestone after six months of laying in the sun.

She closed the lid and slid out another bin.

“She must love finally being in control. She always wanted Samantha’s job and now she has it.”

Gladwynn recognized the voice outside the door as Martha’s.

Someone else, possibly Louise, sighed. “I suppose this means we will have to hear even more stories about all those years she supposedly worked on Broadway.”

Martha scoffed. “I’m sure we will. You know those stories are all garbage. There is no way she worked on Broadway. If she had we would have heard of her.”

“I don’t know,” the other woman said. “Depends on what she did but I don’t think she did anything.

“Didn’t she say she was an assistant to some famous director?” Martha asked.

There was a small laugh. “Yeah, more than once. Can’t remember which one, though.”

“She never said who.” Martha launched into a dramatic impression of Emerald. “’Sharing who would be bragging,’ she said. More like, sharing who would be proof that her stories are completely made up.”

“And she bragged enough even without the name dropping.”

The voices began to fade as the women started to walk back down the hallway. “If any of it is true then it must have drove her crazy that Samantha took over as director,” Martha said.

Gladwynn stood slowly and moved to the doorway, backing against the wall, and straining to hear the rest of the conversation.

“It probably also drove her crazy that Samantha’s personality was a hundred times more appealing,” responded the voice who she could clearly tell was Louise’s now. “That’s what mattered. She encouraged instead of bullied.” Louise sighed. “I hate that we are talking about her in the past tense.”

Martha’s voice fell to a whisper, losing its usual vibrato. “Me too, honey. Me too.”

Gladwynn returned to looking for flowers, deep in thought.

Had Emerald been jealous of Samantha? Jealous enough to hurt her in some way?

She opened another lid and shook her head. No, she wasn’t going to do this again. She wasn’t going to wrap herself up in a mystery that was not hers to solve.

There was no evidence at this point that anything criminal had happened to Samantha. She could have had a heart attack or a stroke or accidentally taken too many pills. Hadn’t there been a pill bottle on the bedside table? Gladwynn closed her eyes briefly and tried to remember. Yes, she thought she could remember one there. A small one that looked like a prescription bottle.

That very well could have been it. Maybe she’d been upset by Derek’s passing and had purposely taken too many pills. It was a horrible thought but suicide, sadly, happened more often than people wanted to admit. She spotted a strand of lilies that could be wrapped around a piece of the set to look like a row of them. Pulling it from the box she laid them aside and dug for more.

As she dug, the image of Samanth’s face in death swirled uninvited in her mind. To Gladwynn her expression had seemed to be one of shock. And the way her body was contorted, her hand reaching out toward the door? Had Samantha been reaching toward someone? Maybe that happened when the contents of too many pills hit a person’s system. Maybe Samantha had regretted what she’d done and was trying to get to a phone to call for help.

Then there was the knocked over lamp and the piece of paper crumpled on the floor. Could Samantha had knocked over the lamp when the drugs started to take effect and as she fell?

 Gladwynn wished now she had picked the paper up and looked at it closer. Had Samantha been writing something when she died? A suicide note? If it had been a note, wouldn’t she have written it before she took the pills?

She piled more flowers next to her as Lucinda walked back into the closet with the fabric.

“Doris says this blue one will work perfectly so I’m going to take this one home. Now we just need to find a pattern to use. I bet I can find one online. Etsy would be a great place to look. Or maybe Pinterest. I saw one on a cottage core account on Instagram the other day too.”

Gladwynn turned her head to hide her smile. She’d never met a 70-year-old woman so up on the internet and social media as her grandmother.

“Oh wonderful!” Lucinda clapped her hands together. “You found some beautiful lilies. They will look so lovely in front of the Green Gables set.” She paused for a moment. “Gladwynn dear, you have that look on your face again.”

Gladwynn glanced at her grandmother as she placed a lid back on one of the bins. “What look?”

“Your eyebrows are all squished down and your lips are pursed and there is a tightness to your jaw.”

Gladwynn had no idea her expressions were so dramatic.

“What are you thinking about? Is it your father’s visit?”

She’d completely forgotten about her father’s visit. Wonderful. Now she would be thinking about it. “No. It’s nothing. It must have just been my searching face. I had no idea you sat there and analyzed my expressions.” She stood and smoothed her shirt down over her slacks. “I have to be honest that I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

Lucinda stepped closer, her eyes boring into Gladwynn’s. “It’s about Samantha isn’t it? Are you still thinking about what you saw?” She set the scissors she’d been holding down and cradled Gladwynn’s face in her hands. “I’m sure it was traumatizing and I know we talked about it some already but if you need to talk more you know I’m here for you, right?”

Gladwynn nodded. “Yes, Grandma, I know. I’m okay, but, yes, I’ve been thinking about her death and what I saw. I’m just processing. That’s all.”

Lucinda kissed her forehead. “I hate that you and Doris had to be the ones to find her.” She tipped her head toward the door and took her hands off Gladwynn’s face “Come on. Let’s get out of here and go grab a sweet treat at Brewed Awakening. It’s just what we all need.”

“Have you seen my hips lately? I’m not really sure sweets are what I need, but I could get a coffee.”

Lucinda frowned. “Honey, I would absolutely love to have those hips. They’re fine. Believe me. But coffee? At this time of the night?”

Gladwynn shrugged her shoulder. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Lucinda sighed as she closed the closet door behind her. “Ah to be young and unafraid of coffee after six again.”

It was obvious that Lucinda hadn’t been the only one who’d thought a sweet treat at Brewed Awakening was a good idea. It was only an hour before closing but the café and bookshop were both packed.

Abbie wasn’t working that night, but Marylou, the owner, was and she had a friendly smile for them despite the apparent hectic appearance of her business.

Gladwynn looked over her shoulder at the crowd. “What’s the occasion? This place is packed tonight.”

Marylou tightened the scrunchie around her ponytail. Her dark brown hair was streaked with gray and Gladwynn also saw a few streaks of purple, which denoted Marylou’s young-at-heart attitude. “It’s a fundraiser for the library. Half of my proceeds are supporting the purchase of new books for the children’s section.”

“Oh, that’s right! I forgot that was tonight!” Lucinda said. “In that case we’ll take an extra pastry each!”

Doris shook her head. “Speak for yourself. I’ll take two extra.” She winked. “I can take one home to the mister.”

With their treats in hand, but the café seats all taken, they decided to find a bench outside. The town of Brookstone featured benches dedicated in the memory of former residents along its Main Street. They chose the one was dedicated in the memory of Gladwynn’s grandfather, Sidney, who had been a minister in town for almost 50 years. The black metal bench sat in front of Rose Buds, a local flower shop.

“It’s nice you had a night off work, Gladwynn,” Doris said opening the bag with her pastry.

Lucinda had already taken out her pastry – a strudel with raspberry — and unwrapped it. “It’s not a usual thing, that’s for sure. This poor girl works almost every night until 9 or 10 p.m. She has no time for a social life.”

Gladwynn sipped her coffee and leaned back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other. “And what kind of social life do you think I should have?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t you have friends you hung out with back in Carter?”

The strudel did look good. Gladwynn wished she had chosen one. “Yes, some, but most of them were getting married and having children so there wasn’t a lot of time to hang out anymore. Savanah is still single and we talk from time to time, but she’s also very busy at the library. After they laid me off, they put a lot more on her.”

“It would be nice if Gladwynn had more time to see Pastor Luke,” Doris said breaking off a piece of the pastry. She took a bite, oblivious to Gladwynn looking at her with a confused expression and Lucinda looking at her with a warning expression.

“Why would I want to spend more time with Luke?”

Doris continued to eat. “Because you two hit it off so well that one time he came over for lunch. Then there was the trip down to Sight & Sound and – ouch! Lucinda! You’re digging your elbow into my ribs.”

Gladwynn looked at her grandmother and watched a scowl quickly turn into an innocent smile.

Lucinda nodded at the cup of coffee in Gladwynn’s hand. “How’s your coffee, dear? Enough cream and sugar in there for you?”

“Grandma, I really –”

Lucinda raised her hand in a greeting. “Oh, Eileen! Hello! How nice to see you this evening.”

Eileen stopped walking abruptly, clearly startled. To Gladwynn she looked like a frightened rabbit as she pulled her jacket close around her neck. The night was cooler than some nights but not cool enough for a jacket in Gladwynn’s opinion. The woman’s appearance was a drastic change from the impatient and flustered property manager she’d met at Samantha’s two days before.

“I-I’m fine.” Eileen straightened her hunched shoulders and offered a brief smile. “Lovely to see you too, Lucinda.”

Lucinda seemed oblivious to what Gladwynn saw as Eileen’s discomfort and plowed forward. “Eileen, we noticed this evening that we don’t have some of the scripts and notes we need for the play. We believe Samantha had them. Is there any way we can get to them you think?”

Eileen visibly paled, lowered her gaze to the sidewalk, and coughed softly. “Um, yes. Of course. The police released the scene, um, the condo today. If you come over tomorrow, I’ll take you over there to see if we can find them.” She nodded quickly. “I’m heading home to feed my cats. You ladies have a nice evening.”

She walked quickly past them, avoiding making eye contact and shoving one hand in her jacket pocket while the other kept the top of the jacket closed.

Doris took another bite of her pastry, speaking with her mouth full. “She was a bit squirrely, don’t you think?”

Lucinda shrugged. “Eileen’s always been a bit – well, different.”

Doris snorted a laugh. “You’re always so good at sugar-coating things, Lucinda. She’s always been a bit uptight. Let’s be honest.”

“A bit, yes,” Lucinda conceded. “Anyhow, let’s finish up our treats. I need to get home to bed. I have spin class at 7 a.m., a hair appointment at 9, a library board meeting at 10, a drop off to the loan closet at 11, a trip to the supermarket after that and then lunch with Jacob at noon.”

Gladwynn paused, the coffee cup partway to her mouth, her eyes wide at the extensive list her grandmother had just rattled off. “Don’t you ever slow down?”

Lucinda made a face. “Why would I want to? At my age I’d better keep going or I’ll rust.”

Back in the car, Gladwynn couldn’t help thinking about Eileen’s strange behavior. Or at least it seemed strange to Gladwynn. She’d only met the woman once before. Still, even Doris thought Eileen had been acting a bit, well, squirrely, as Doris had put it. She’d certainly seemed on edge. What Gladwynn wanted to know was if she was on edge because someone she knew had just died or if she was on edge because she was somehow involved with that death.