Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“Honey,” he murmured sympathetically.
“I did love him, Harry,” she replied quietly. “I mean, it was real. But I wanted what my parents had, and it wasn’t that. Not to mention, Willie’s family was constantly in our lives. They’d knock on the door at all hours. They were always trying to get him involved in stuff he never told me about, but I knew if it came from a knock at two in the morning, it wasn’t right. He just,”—she flipped one hand one way, her fork the other—“couldn’t say no.”
She took another bite, put her fork down, went for a rasher of bacon, munched it and returned to him.
“Rita had a definite hierarchy in her family, and she expected me to take the role she assigned, that being letting Willie do what he wanted, support his brothers and father, and just cook the food for the table and keep her son satisfied in bed.”
Holy fuck.
“Jesus, was she that open with that shit?” Harry asked.
“Entirely,” Lillian answered. “This was not what my parents had, and Willie was too weak to stick up for me or put up boundaries. I eventually got fed up with it and kicked him out.”
Harry snatched a piece of bacon and got another smile from her when he did.
Then she started talking again. “The thing that makes me sad about it is, in that family, Willie was the odd man out. I hurt for him, knowing he knew he didn’t fit. I sometimes wonder if he fell so fast for me because I had my own house, and he thought he could escape. And honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he did something blatant, something big that would make Rita send him on the run, doing it just for an excuse to get away from all the oppression.”
Harry couldn’t say he’d noticed Willie was the dark sheep, but he’d never been married to him.
What he could say was that none of the Zowkowers had ever done anything as brazen as fucking a man up with plenty of witnesses, necessitating him getting out of town fast, and staying out.
So what Lillian said definitely held merit.
On this thought, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, looked that way and noted Kimmy, MP’s lovable but crotchety and criminally (though, regrettably not officially) nosy loon, bearing down on them.
He gave her a look.
She shot one back.
Then her gaze turned to Lillian, who peered over her shoulder to see what had Harry’s attention.
Kimmy took one look at Lillian and her swollen eyes, she stopped dead, pivoted and marched right out.
“Oh my God,” Lillian breathed, and Harry looked to her to see her beautiful face filled with marvel. “We discovered a way to stop Kimmy from bellying all the way up in our business. I just have to learn to cry on cue.”
He laughed softly and she smiled at him as he did.
She then frowned, but it was obviously fake.
She did this before she said, “You suck.”
He nearly barked out a laugh, but instead asked, “Why’s that?”
She pointed at her plate with her fork. “Because I was hungry.”
“Not a fan of being wrong?” he teased.
The frown that earned was not fake.
“Not a fan of why you knew I was hungry.”
He wasn’t sure if she was talking about his job, or his understanding of grief due to his dead wife.
She told him. “MP is small, nothing in Fret County much bigger, but you sure do see your fair share of crap, don’t you, sheriff?”
“I sure do, honey.”
She scrunched her nose.
It was bottom line adorable.
He leaned into the table toward her. “Wanna know a secret?”
She nodded.
“It’s going to make me sound insane.”
“Sock it to me,” she invited.
“There’s not another job on Earth I’d want to do.”
For a beat, her face froze.
Then it got soft, those startling green eyes of hers got warm, and she whispered, “On the floor of my tiny bathroom.”
“What?”
“Nothing, Harry. Just…I see that because you’re real good at it.”
Jesus, why did that feel so damned fantastic?
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
Pink hit Lillian’s cheeks and she returned to her pancakes.
Harry let her.
And he watched her devour them as he sipped his coffee.
EIGHT
Dumplings
Lillian
The next evening—that being the evening the day after I had breakfast with Handsome Harry Moran at the Double D, one I enjoyed in spite of all that was happening (which was a miracle)—I lay with my back resting against the arm of my couch, my laptop in front of me, while Ronetta futzed about in my kitchen.
Ronetta was my next-door neighbor and had been since we moved in.
She had two kids who were young teenagers when we arrived in Misted Pines, both of whom had since moved away. Her daughter was now a high-flying casting director in LA. Her son was a vintner in Sonoma County, and he was a big deal. His wine was always winning awards.