Hazard in the Horoscope
Kari Lee Townsend
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be sold, copied, distributed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or digital, including photocopying and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of both the publisher, Oliver Heber Books and the author, Kari Lee Townsend, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © Kari Lee Townsend
Published by Oliver-Heber Books
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Acknowledgments
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Books By Kari Lee Harmon
To my partners in crime, Barbara Witek and Danielle Bronson. I could not have pulled this off in time or this well without the help of you both. Love our retreats! You make my life so much fun.
1
“You don’t have to do this, Granny,” I said to my grandmother, Gertrude, after I finished unloading her belongings from my yellow VW Bug with flowers painted on the sides.
I carried her things into Divine Inspiration Inn, the quaint little bed and breakfast on the outskirts of our small, upstate New York town. Snow was softly falling, blanketing the ground in a carpet of white fluff. The air was still, and everything was calm and peaceful. It was actually quite serene and idyllic.
Granny Gert had first moved in with me a few months after I’d arrived in Divinity. Having lived in New York City with my parents my entire life, I had never been on my own. Considering I had been twenty-nine at that point in my life, I’d figured it was about time I grew up and left the proverbial nest, except everyone thought I needed help.
In more ways than one.
“Oh, pish posh.” Granny waved her wrinkled, dark-spotted hand at me, her snappy brown eyes sparkling devilishly. “Your mother needs me more than you do now, and I didn’t imagine I would ever hear myself say that about such a strong, independent woman like her. Besides, you and your new fiancé need some alone time.”
Granny tightened her plastic rain cap over her fabulous snow-white head of hair, even though there wasn’t a cloud in sight. It had turned white at the tender age of sixteen from a battle with scarlet fever, but she’d never colored it. Admittedly, her hair was the envy of all the elderly ladies in town. Granny wasn’t taking a chance on messing up her pride and joy.
She adjusted her winter coat over her ancient apron made out of old flour sacks. Having lived through the depression, my granny was all about waste not want not. After Grandpa Frank’s passing, she had more money than she knew what to do with, stored in freezer bags and old shoe boxes because she didn’t trust the banks or the government. But even though she was rich, that didn’t mean she would ever stop being frugal.
My parents, Donald and Vivian Meadows, were high society, with careers as a world-renowned heart surgeon and an esteemed lawyer. They’d named me Sylvia in high hopes I would follow in one of their footsteps, and they couldn’t seem to accept my choice of fortune-telling as a profession. Not to mention they had a hard time believing in my psychic ability, no matter how many inexplicable signs they were faced with. They still hadn’t gotten over the fact that their only child had changed her name to Sunshine—or Sunny for short.
“Must be nice to feel needed,” I said with a sigh, adjusting my heavily fringed sweater shawl over my turtleneck and long flowy skirt.
I had always been close to my father, even though he didn’t really understand me any more than my mother did, but my mother had never really been close to me at all. In fact, she’d taken more of a shine to my best friend, Joanne Burnham—now Joanne West since she’d recently married the love of her life, Carpenter Cole, in September. Even Jo’s cousin, Zoe, who had come to town to help plan Jo’s wedding, seemed to have more in common with my mother than I did. I always felt like an afterthought. I’d moved to Divinity to break away from that world and start fresh. Of course, trouble had followed me in the form of four murders, which brought out the overbearing protective instincts of my parents more than ever.
“I can see the wheels in that sharp mind of yours turning something fierce.” Granny winked. “Quit fretting so much, sweetie. Your mother loves you more than she even knows. She simply has a hard time showing it. Maybe now that she’s retired, she’ll soften up a bit. She didn’t move to Divinity only to take over running the inn, you know.”
“Oh, trust me, I know. They both think they need to take care of me still. I’m a grown woman, engaged to a detective. I think I can manage just fine on my own.”
“Mitch is a wonderful man, and we are all thrilled with the idea of having him as part of the family. They’re not worried about you, Sunny. They want to be a part of your life, especially with the thought of grandchildren running around.”
My stomach flipped, and the acid that was becoming a regular occurrence churned up my esophagus. Jo, who was pregnant with twins and due in three months, had said pretty much the same thing to me recently. The problem was I didn’t even know if I wanted children, which worried me because I’d never really discussed that with Mitch. And that was the main reason I hadn’t picked a date for our wedding yet.
What if he wanted children and I didn’t? Or vice versa. Would that be a deal breaker? The stress was killing me, and Mitch was growing impatient with my waffling. I owed him an explanation for my fears, but we’d been getting along so well I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize our peaceful truce.
“You look pale. Did I say something to upset you?” Granny stared at me with a concerned expression.
I pasted a smile on my face. “I’m fine. Just a little indigestion from lunch.” I rubbed my aching stomach.
“Or the thought of seeing your parents again so soon,” Granny said knowingly. “No worries, sugarplum. I’ll keep them out of your business. That’s another reason I decided to move in with them. Not only do they need help to run this place, but now you have eyes and ears on the inside.” She twittered conspiratorially.
After the innkeeper had died during Jo’s wedding reception, my mother had been the number one suspect. Then after her name was finally cleared, she’d gone back to the Big Apple. I’d been relieved, but that had been short-lived. She’d informed me that the incident had put her life in perspective. She’d taken a step back and realized it was time to leave the stressful world of law.
My father had taken a bit longer to agree to leave the rewarding life as a cardiologist, but he too had come to know when it was time to slow down and enjoy the little things. Especially now that I was engaged, which was something neither of them had ever thought possible. Besides, my father adored my mother, and if she wanted the inn, then that was what she would
have.
I was all for them retiring. Becoming my neighbors… not so much.
“Have I told you how much I love you lately?” I hugged my granny hard. We were so much alike in many ways. Yet another thing that drove my mother crazy.
“Oh, twiddle dee dee you’re going to make me all misty.” Granny patted my back. “I love you too, Sunny. Now, you take care of my boy Morty. I expect to see fresh bowties on him every week. Don’t let him fool you. He likes them as much as I like making them. I’m gonna miss that ornery kitty.” Granny had taken to making bowties from all the old curtains that had come with my house when I moved in.
The problem was, Granny didn’t sew nearly as well as she baked.
“You’ve got it,” I responded, knowing Morty wasn’t going to like that one bit. “You can see him anytime, you know. It’s not like you’re moving out of town.”
“Good girl, I knew I could count on you to keep my main squeeze looking dapper. And I’m sure I will see my little fella plenty.”
Granny had taken a shine to Morty and couldn’t help dressing him up like Grandpa Frank. Morty didn’t like many people, but he’d bonded with Granny in a special way. He seemed to sense she needed him, and he loved the attention, though he’d never let you know it. I wouldn’t mind letting Granny take him to keep her happy, even though I would miss him something fierce. The problem was, he would never leave me. We were kindred spirits, and together for better or worse in this crazy ride called life. The only trouble was that he and my main squeeze Mitch didn’t like each other much.
“Now fetch my pumpkin cookie jar from the back seat, please,” Granny went on. “I can’t store my cookies in anything else, you know. They just don’t taste the same.”
“Absolutely, and you’re right. Your cookies are amazing for a reason. I think Grandpa Frank added a special touch to this cookie jar when he gave it to you.”
“Special touch?” She laughed. “The only thing that old geezer did was break the lid.” Her smile remained, but I could still see how much she missed him shining in her eyes.
“Exactly.” I gave her a mischievous smile. “The tinfoil-covered plate you put on top has to be the secret, because I’ve never tasted cookies as delicious as yours.”
“Maybe someday I’ll fill you in on the real secret.” Her eyes twinkled with something mysterious.
“I’ll hold you to that.” I laughed and wondered if she was more like me than even I realized.
“Hold her to what?” my mother asked as she walked out of the inn, dressed head to toe in a gorgeous forest green suit and wool coat, her golden blond hair perfectly coifed.
I had to fight hard to stop myself from shaking my head. She looked ready to go to court rather than run a bed and breakfast, but some changes would take a lot longer to instill. She had no clue her clientele in Divinity would be vastly different from the five-star circle of people she ran around with in the Big Apple. Far be it from me to enlighten her. She wouldn’t listen anyway.
It had taken a few months for my mother to settle her affairs and move to Divinity permanently. Now that it was January and she had officially retired, she was hitting the ground running with all the changes she planned to make. The inn had always been charming, but she’d constantly criticized the former owner of not taking the necessary steps to advance the inn to the next level and allow it to reach its full potential.
There was no way she would make that mistake herself. There was construction going on all over the grounds—as much as they could complete, given that it was winter. My mother wanted everything done by the spring. She simply couldn’t understand that not everyone in Divinity would agree with what the next level should be. More like she refused to believe, as my mother was a very smart woman.
“There you are, darling,” my father boomed, as he strolled out of the inn, wearing so many clothes he looked like a big puffy marshmallow man.
“Good heavens, Donald,” my mother sputtered. “What on earth are you wearing this time?”
She was used to seeing him dressed smartly and only partaking in dignified activities appropriate for people such as themselves who ran in a certain prestigious social circle. She definitely couldn’t seem to understand that retirement meant two very different things to each of them. My father stared back at her with a beaming expression on his handsome face, his steel gray Ken-doll hair covered with a fuzzy hat with floppy side panels that draped over his ears.
“Harry says ice fishing reels in the bigger fish, and men who ice fish are of a hardy breed.” He slapped his chest. “That’s me.”
“Hardy breed you say? Is that what you are?” my mother asked with an innocent expression and tone, but I could see her struggle not to roll her eyes.
“That’s right, Viv. I’m a retired man now. No more stress of saving lives or trying to impress everyone or trying to live up to the whole world’s opinion of me. I feel free doing whatever the hell I want for a change, and just living a life of ease.”
My mother gasped, and this time my father fought not to roll his eyes.
“Look at Harry,” he went on. “He used to control the fate of people’s lives in a courtroom, and he is happier than I’ve ever seen him now that he’s retired. You were right. This was a great idea.”
“Harry is old enough to be your father.”
“Even better. He’s had plenty more years to discover the secret to life and happiness and retirement. You should talk to Fiona, or your mother, for that matter.”
My mother harrumphed and stood a bit straighter. “I don’t need anyone, and neither should you. Running the inn was a great idea. You, bumbling around like the abominable snowman, pretending to be something you’re not is not a great idea. I can’t run this inn alone, Donald.”
“Then don’t.” My father patted her arm but held his ground, impressing me. Usually, my mother got her way in pretty much everything. “Maybe it’s time you let your mother and daughter and Fiona help, Viv. You can’t control everything, you know. Maybe it’s time you stopped trying.” He kissed her cheek, then faced me and gave me the biggest bear hug he’d ever given. It made me feel all warm inside. I liked the new Donald. My mother, not so much. “Gotta run, ladies. The fish are biting.”
“But you have no clue what you’re doing,” my mother pointed out. “And there’s barely any ice out there. Mark my words. You’ll fall through and break your neck before the sun sets. You’ll see I’m right.”
“Harry says you need an adventurous spirit,” my father went on, ignoring her negative comments and doubt. “You also need a sled to drag your gear and something warm to drink. I’ve got all that covered already down by the lake, and if the ice isn’t safe, we’ll fish from the shore.” He shrugged, looking happier than I’d seen him in a long time.
My mother crossed her arms and shook her head.
“Harry also says you need a wicking layer close to the body—like shirts, pants, socks. A layer for heat—like wool, fleece, or polartech. Something for the face—like a facemask, long scarf, or neck warmer. And a final layer of a one-piece thinsulate or insulated coveralls or a goose down layer for wind breakage and warmth.” He counted off his checklist on his hand as if reading from a textbook as he spoke, sporting an excited grin with every word. “I’m all set, Viv. You’ll see when I come back with dinner from the lake out back. Or better yet, maybe we’ll hit up the river downstream.”
“Harry says, Harry says, Harry says.” My mother threw up her hands. “You’ve gone crazy,” she murmured.
“And loving every minute of it.” My father waved to us all and walked away, whistling a lively tune that made me giggle and earned me a scowl from my mother.
I pressed my lips together to swallow any more laughter as I looked away.
Harry was a former judge my mother had worked with in the past. He was also Fiona Atwater’s—Granny Gert’s former best friend, turned enemy, turned best friend—on again, off again, on again husband. It was exhausting just thinking about the
world I lived in, but I had to admit it certainly was entertaining.
“What on earth am I supposed to do with that?” my mother asked, staring after my father, at a loss for words. I wanted to say lighten up and join him, but she actually looked a little worried, so I didn’t say anything.
Granny gazed off in the distance with a fond expression on her face that made me think of Grandpa Frank and how short life really was. “Love every minute with him,” she responded to my mother softly, “because before you know it, he could be gone.”
“Alone at last,” I said, as I sat on my living room couch in my ancient Victorian house beside Detective Mitch Stone, the love of my life.
A roaring fire he’d built in the fireplace crackled and popped, its yellow, red, and orange flames burning bright as he answered with, “Not entirely.”
A sound like hissing laughter whispered through the room, putting Mitch on edge once more. I frowned, sending out a silent mental scolding to Morty. Knowing my big, white, immortal cat, he would get my meaning loud and clear. Just as I expected, the noise faded away. I snuggled into my big, dark, and brooding fiancé’s arms, throwing my yoga pant-clad legs over his NYPD sweatpants. Lifting my face, I stared up into his. He was so rugged and sexy, with jet black curls, gray eyes, an olive complexion, and a five o’clock shadow that covered a jagged scar along his jaw. His slightly crooked nose only added to his appeal.
“I love you,” I said, in barely more than a whisper.
His entire face softened, and his lips tipped up ever so slightly at the corners before he pressed them to mine. The same thrill as always zipped through me every time he touched me. “I love you, too, Tink.”
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