The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One

by Ann Warner

  “Devi. Are you okay?” Mac grabbed me, sounding panicked, and as far as I know, Mac never panics.

  I took a breath and straightened, but instead of stepping away from him, I stepped closer and leaned into him with a sigh of relief.

  “It’s just a cramp. If I can stand here for a moment . . .”

  Mac encircled me with his arms and continued to support me, and I laid my head on his shoulder and put my arms around him. I caught my breath, although this time, it wasn’t because of a pain.

  “Devi?” he said.

  “Shut up, Mac, and kiss me.”

  He did.

  There was a wolf whistle from some where. And a voice yelled, “Get a room.”

  I rarely see my neighbors, so I had no idea where they’d suddenly popped up from. I ignored them and so did Mac, but I could feel that we were both smiling.

  “Devi,” he said, his lips still touching mine. “What are we doing?”

  “Getting better acquainted, and I must say, it’s about time.”

  “Could we do that inside? It’s freezing out here.”

  “You do know my parents are waiting for us, along with Josephine and Lillian?”

  He pulled his head back, looked at me, and sighed.

  “So,” I said. “It will take some ingenuity to continue this . . . umm . . . conversation.”

  Shaking his head, he pulled me closer, but he did it carefully. “I believe when a situation calls for it, I can be ingenious.” His breath tickled my ear.

  Smiling, I kissed his cheek, then took his hand, and together we walked inside to face the people who loved us.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Josephine

  I left the hospital several days ahead of Devi, but Lill and I visited her every day. Often, Mac was there. I didn’t know if he was taking leave, or whether he simply stopped at the hospital whenever he could take a break from apprehending shoplifters and the like.

  On one visit, Mac told us Harry Garrison had been released from University Hospital into the custody of the Hamilton County sheriff, and since he was considered a flight risk, was denied bail. Mac also told us Dillingham had traced Harry’s movements and found he’d been scoping out the area for two days, waiting for an opportunity to attack Devi.

  When Devi went to the bakery, apparently Harry decided the early hour and nearly empty parking lot presented the perfect opportunity to shoot her and then get away, since the bakery is less than a mile from the interstate.

  If Mac hadn’t been there that morning, very likely Harry would have succeeded—a thought that still makes me shudder.

  Mac’s partner, Detective Dillingham, was the one who clarified Devi’s status with the Chicago police. Yes, they had wanted to interview her again. But even without that, they’d determined that the presence of a gun registered to William proved Devi had acted in self-defense. Mac did pass on a reprimand to Devi for her precipitate departure from Chicago, but he also said the investigating officer had admitted that her leaving was a reasonable reaction to Harry’s threat.

  When the director of the Winterford Art Institute learned about all the circumstances leading to Devi’s abrupt departure, he called and offered to reinstate her. But she told me she can’t go back. Too many bad memories there; too many good ones here. And let me be the first to admit, that was a huge relief.

  I’m also relieved I don’t have to worry that Devi is going to make the same mistake with Mac that I made with Daniel. The two of them are forging a solid friendship. If it hasn’t already blossomed into love, it soon will. I see how they look at each other when they think the other one isn’t looking.

  As for me, I’ve decided to stay at Brookside, at least for the time being. For one thing, Lill is here. For another, Mr. Souter is gone, and the new manager is a lovely woman we’ve all warmed to immediately.

  One of the first things the manager did was bring in a new chef, and the food is vastly improved. That might be the deciding factor in my staying here, since I’ve never enjoyed cooking for myself.

  There was only one loose end dangling when I was released from the hospital, but it was a biggie. My son, Jeff.

  He and I met, and he finally gave me the details of what happened to the estate. He’d made a risky investment that left him desperate and ashamed. He apologized for his actions in admitting me to Hopesprings, but like Eddie, I don’t know if he’s sorry enough to attempt to improve his character. I can only hope so.

  But while I question his true contrition, I don’t question that at least some of what he did was an attempt to follow what he thought were his father’s wishes. I don’t condone that, but I do understand it, and I forgive him, or I will eventually. Because, you see, I am not without fault in the fracturing of our relationship. Besides, I find that I owe him an enormous debt of gratitude.

  If he hadn’t moved me into Brookside, I would never have met Lill and Devi and Mac, and my life would not be nearly as rich as it has now become.

  <<<>>>

  I hope you enjoyed the novel. I’m also hoping you’ll be willing to take a few minutes to share your opinion with others. Having a minimum number of reviews is a requirement for me to be able to publicize the book on book discovery sites. Reviews need not be elaborate. Although longer reviews are preferred, even a brief statement of your opinion helps prospective readers find the book.

  Thank you so much!

  About the Author

  The books Ann loved most as a child were those about horses. After reading Mary O’Hara’s Wyoming ranch stories, she decided she would one day marry a rancher and own a racehorse—although not necessarily in that order.

  Since it was clear to Ann, after reading My Friend Flicka and Green Grass of Wyoming, that money could be a sore point between ranchers and their wives, not to mention racehorses don’t come cheap, she decided appropriate planning was needed. Thus she appended a “rich” to the rancher requirement.

  But when she started dating, there were no ranchers in the offing, rich or otherwise. Instead, Ann fell in love with a fellow graduate student at the University of Kansas. Not only does her husband not share her love of horses, he doesn’t even particularly like them, given that one stepped on him with deliberate intent when he was ten.

  After years in academia, Ann took a turn down another road and began writing fiction. Her first novel, Dreams for Stones, was published by Samhain Publishing on Christmas Day 2007, and has now been re-released in electronic and print formats. The protagonist is both a university professor and part-time rancher—proof perhaps that dreams never truly go away, but continue to exert their influence in unexpected ways.

  Those unexpected influences have continued to play a role in Ann’s succeeding books, including this one.

  Acknowledgments

  Although writing a novel requires solitude, no book gets published in isolation. Of the many people who have contributed to the process for this novel, I’m especially thankful to the following:

  Delores Warner, who provided invaluable expertise to ensure the Graphoanalysis details in this novel are correct. Any errors in interpretation are mine. Thank you so much, Delores.

  Pam Berehulke, who ensures that my grammar, punctuation, and timelines are perfect, although since I have a tendency to tinker, errors may have tiptoed their way in after Pam gave the book her imprimatur. If you should find an error in this novel, be assured I introduced it. Mea culpa, Pam.

  All my early readers/ reviewers, who have helped in the final polishing of this novel: Christopher Foreman, Juli Townsend, Margaret Johnson, Judy Carpenter, and the members of the Women’s Fiction Critique Group on Writeon.com: Gail Cleare, Poppy Gillespie, Katie O'Rourke, DJ Dalasio, Kate Murdoch, Jennie Ensor, Caroline Fraser, Muriel Canfield, and Karin Davies.

  And to all those who have written to comment on my stories, especially those of you who have told me my novels have been a source of comfort or distraction during tough times, thank you!

  My gratitude as well to all those who
have posted reviews. Your kindness helps me to make others aware of my novels.

  And above all, thanks to my husband who lights up my life and makes it possible for me to be a full-time writer.

  A Note to Readers

  I hope you enjoyed The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club – Book One and will want to keep in touch with me. I can assure you it’s a lot easier than this!

  All you have to do is go to my website and sign up for my mailing list.

  Signing up (which is super easy and doesn’t require levitation) means you will receive a newsletter that will include insider information about my writing process, the stories behind the stories, new release notifications, special offers, and recommendations of books I think you may also enjoy.

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  One more thing before you go…

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  Excerpt

  The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club – Book Two

  Now Available in Print and Electronic editions

  Josephine, Devi, and Mac’s story continues. Devi and Mac are falling in love, but a complication comes along in the form of Mac’s pregnant ex-wife. As for Josephine, with the excitement of unmasking the Brookside thief and Devi’s being shot behind her, she’s finding Brookside Retirement Community (aka Babbling Brook) as dull as she initially expected it to be. Until, that is, she gets involved with a man who suspects her of being a criminal mastermind. Finding love is something Josephine never expected as her Edward Hopper painting plays matchmaker.

  Chapter One

  Devi

  Although I’m much improved since I was shot, I still tire easily, and a trip to the Cincinnati airport to drop off my parents exhausted me. They came to stay when I was released from the hospital, but they’re both professors at the University of Kansas and they needed to get back for the start of the new semester. Mom said the only reason she felt okay about leaving me was that she knew I had Mac to watch over me.

  I took a nap in the afternoon, but I was still feeling draggy when Mac arrived from work, carrying take-out and a bottle of champagne. It was as much New Year’s Eve celebrating as either of us thought I could manage.

  He set the bag and bottle on the counter then hugged me carefully. “Did you get any rest today?”

  “A little. I doubt I’ll make it to midnight though.”

  “That’s okay. The only new years I seem to usher in anymore are when I have to work a late shift.”

  “Good. I’m glad to know you aren’t rigid in your holiday observances.”

  Mac’s full name is Darren McElroy, and he’s a detective on the Montgomery, Ohio police force. There’s a lot we don’t yet know about each other, but we’re working on it.

  We ate the food he brought, and then I moved to the couch and continued to sip my one glass of champagne while he washed dishes. When he finished, he came to sit beside me. His arm curved around me, and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

  “I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he said.

  “You’ve been asking me lots of things lately.” I yawned from the effects of the champagne on top of the trip to the airport.

  “I know I have. But there’s something we haven’t talked about yet. And it’s maybe premature to bring this up. But . . . ”

  “What is it?”

  I felt him pull in a deep breath then release it. “Kids,” he said.

  My own breath stuttered. I’d been dreading the kids question, although I knew it was coming. Had to come. And it was better to face it sooner rather than later, although it was already too late for me not to have my heart broken if it was a deal-breaker for Mac.

  I swallowed. “What about them?”

  “How do you feel about them? Do you want any?”

  Closing my eyes, I shuddered. “I’m sorry, Mac. I should have told you . . . ”

  He shifted until he could look at me. But I couldn’t face him. I buried my head more deeply in his shoulder.

  “I . . . I can’t have children. The bullet . . . it did too much damage, and I . . . ”

  His arm tightened around me, and I held my breath waiting for his response, struggling to focus on the steady beating of his heart.

  “I’m so sorry, Devi. I expect you wanted them, didn’t you.”

  The tears I was trying to hold back slid down my cheek. No matter how grateful I am to be alive or how happy I am that Mac and I found each other, everything hurts when I remember the surgeon delivering a full accounting of my injuries. He said I’d eventually be as good as new, except for residual twinges that might last for months, and, oh, by the way, I would never have a child.

  Every time I let myself think about that, I picture Mac with his neighbor Teddy. Teddy is five and has Down Syndrome, and Mac clearly loves him. From the first time I saw them together, I could tell Mac would be an exceptional father.

  He kissed the top of my head. “It’s okay, love. I only asked because . . . ” He stopped, and I waited. “You see my wife and I . . . ex-wife. She wanted kids so badly, that when it didn’t happen . . . she . . . ” He heaved in a breath. “And I wasn’t sure I could deal with that again. But if you wanted . . . Anyway, you need to know, it’s okay. Not having any.”

  I pushed myself upright and stared at him. This was the first time he’d said anything that sounded real about why his marriage failed. When I’d asked, he’d said only that Lisa had a hard time being a cop’s wife, and it caused them to grow apart. But this . . . this had to be the real reason. And it was huge.

  “If you both wanted kids so much, why didn’t you adopt?”

  “Lisa didn’t want to adopt.”

  “What about you? How do you feel about adoption?”

  “Lisa was so set against it, I didn’t give it much thought.”

  I settled back against his shoulder, shaken at the bleak look I’d seen on his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. And what an odd reversal that was . . . this conversation ending with me consoling him, instead of him consoling me.

  His arm tightened around me, and we didn’t talk at all for a while. Eventually I asked him what his favorite color was. He said purple. And when he asked me in turn, I replied that mine was turquoise. We continued to talk about mundane things for a while, although every few minutes, we’d stop talking and kiss instead. Some where in the middle of either talking or kissing, I fell asleep.

  I awakened deep in the night to find Mac’s arm still around me and Mac himself sound asleep.

  Feeling safe and cherished, I fell back to sleep myself.

  Chapter Two

  Josephine

  Devi and Mac arrived for dinner New Year’s Day, both of them with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, either from the bitter cold or from inner warmth, and I’d put my money on the latter.

  They weren’t making any announcements yet, but Lill and I had no doubts they would be soon. Clearly, they were in love, and it did my heart good to see it.

  After we were seated and passing food around, Devi turned to me. “Hey, Lillian tells me the man who’s filling in for me is single. And attractive.” Devi is the associate activities director here at Brookside Retirement Community. But while she’s recovering from being shot, a temporary replacement has been hired. “And an art lover. You two should have a lot in common.”

  I glared at Lill who looked serenely back. “Now that you and Mac are settled,” I told Devi, “Lill’s got time on her hands, and she’s using it to interfere in my life.”

  Devi looked sta
rtled, but Mac grinned.

  “Well,” Lill said. “I say Josephine better get on the stick and sign up for an activity or two before Myrtle stakes a claim. You know that Myrtle. She’s been in a dreadful tizzy since Norman showed up. Heard the hussy say she thinks he’s as dreamy as Harrison Ford.”

  “Hmmph.” In my opinion, the words dreamy and Harrison Ford did belong in the same sentence. “Myrtle can stake all she wants. I’m not interested. Anymore than you’d be if someone dreamy like Denzel Washington took over planning our activities.”

  “Don’t know about that. Mm mm. If someone who looked like Denzel was doing the planning, I do believe I’d be doing the activying.” Lill, who turned sideways would nearly disappear, treated us to that deep rich chuckle of hers.

  “Oh, let Myrtle have her fun.”

  “Myrtle and Norman . . . has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” Lill said, winking at Devi. “I suspect Bertie will be back on the market soon.”

  That made me snort, and it’s a good thing I wasn’t sipping wine; I could have aspirated. “What a shame, Bertie being the catch he is.” Bertie has been the target of Myrtle’s romantic attentions up to now, and I’m tired of hearing about it even if Lill isn’t.

  Lill giggled, sounding for a moment seventy years younger than her eighty-two years. And I may be twelve years younger, but I have to work to keep up with her.