Lock, Stock, and Over a Barrel
Melody Carlson
Language: English
Pages: 168
ISBN: 1433679302
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
With high hopes, Daphne Ballinger lands her dream job at The New York Times. But it's not long until writing about weddings becomes a painful reminder of her own failed romance, and her love of the city slowly sours as well. Is it time to give up the Big Apple for her small hometown of Appleton?
When her eccentric Aunt Dee passes away and leaves a sizeable estate to Daphne, going back home is an easy choice. What isn’t easy is coming to terms with the downright odd clauses written into the will.
Daphne only stands to inherit the estate if she agrees to her aunt's very specific posthumous terms -- personal and professional. And if she fails to comply, the sprawling old Victorian house shall be bequeathed to . . . Aunt Dee’s cats.
And if Daphne thinks that’s odd, wait until she finds out an array of secrets about Aunt Dee's life, and how imperfect circumstances can sometimes lead to God's perfect timing.
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earlier. “Did you notice that Ricardo Martoni and his mother came by to pay their respects?” Dad hung up a dish towel. “Yes. I had a nice little chat with Maria. I didn’t realize she was widowed.” She elbowed her Dad in a teasing way. “Pretty good-looking too for being in her midsixties. Maybe you should give her a call.” Dad looked embarrassed. “Well, you did meet Karen, didn’t you? I thought I saw you two talking.” “Oh?” She tilted her head to one side. “Does that mean you
almost-constant state of anxiety and fear as a child. And it didn’t get much better as she grew older. She still had a fear of her loved ones leaving her. It was about three years after her breakup with Ryan that Daphne began seeing a therapist. With Sylvia’s help Daphne had made great strides, working her way through this phobia. Sylvia had shone the initial spotlight on Daphne’s own personal fear of dying young . . . like her mother. They talked things through and Sylvia helped Daphne to
reminded her as she washed the lettuce. “Not like that. I mean, we can just hop on a train and be back here in a couple of hours. You’re really leaving. How can you bear to do that, Daphne? Won’t you miss the theater, the restaurants, the museums, the culture, everything? I can’t believe you’re settling for your hometown. That doesn’t seem like you.” Beverly peered curiously at her. “Is it because of us? Because we’re expecting . . . and moving from the city?” Daphne tried not to be
amazing. In some ways it had probably appeared similar to Shelby’s seemingly charmed life now. There had been many incredible moments when Daphne and Ryan, feeling young and in love and invincible, ran around the city with abandon. It had felt like she was starring in her own wonderful movie. A romantic love story that was so totally unlike her previous life—the life where she’d taken everything far too seriously and made all her choices much too carefully. But with Ryan by her side, she
looked like it was from the forties. In it were a number of small keys. It didn’t take long to figure out where the keys fit. As she unlocked one of the cabinet doors, she found it was filled with multiple copies of all the Penelope Poindexter books. She pulled one out, studying the glossy depiction of a beautiful buxom blonde struggling against a swarthy pirate with handsome, rugged looks. So typical. So cliché. Had Aunt Dee truly penned this sort of tripe? Taking the book to her
