Thursday - Murder and Mint Tea - the opening scene #BWLAuthor @MFRWAuthor #mystery #Cozy

             The pale winter sun shone through the kitchen window.  I cleaned up the last of the mess from my adventure.  The caper hadn’t gone as planned.  How many do?  In my many years of life, most of my plans had taken an unexpected turn.

            Merup.”  Robespierre, my Maine Coon cat, announced a visitor on the way.  He’s almost as good as a doorbell.  The firm rap on the door told me this wasn’t one of my female friends.  “Come in.”

            Pete Duggan strode across the room and thrust a bouquet of bright carnations into my hands.  A red hue, almost as vivid as his hair, stained his face.  “Mrs. Miller, got to hand it to you.  I’ve come to eat crow.”

            To hide a smile I buried my face in the flowers and inhaled the spicy fragrance.  “How about chocolate chip cookies and mint tea instead?”

            “Sounds great.”  He straddled one of the chairs at the table and picked up the local newspaper.  “Local Woman Thwarts Robbers.”  His grin made him look like the ten-year-old who had moved into the corner house on my block.  He cleared his throat.  “The guys at the station ribbed me about this.  Did you forget the plan?”

            How, when the idea to catch the real thieves had been mine?  A series of burglaries had plagued the neighborhood for months and had troubled me.  Especially when the police had decided two teenage neighbor boys were the culprits.  I knew the pair and had disagreed strongly enough to set myself up as a victim.  Then I informed Pete.

            “Did you forget?”  he repeated.  “When I crept up the stairs and saw you grappling with one of the men, I nearly had a heart attack.”

            Heat singed my cheeks.  “How was I to know my date would poop out early?”

            After filling two mugs with mint tea I opened a tin of freshly baked cookies.  How could I admit to a nagging doubt, or tell him I had wanted to be part of the action?  In July I had turned sixty-five and in September retired from the nursing staff at Tappan Zee Memorial Hospital.  Six months of placid existence had made me edgy.  Lunch with friends, coffee with the neighbors and weekly bridge games with old cronies bored me.  These events held none of the challenge of meeting crises at the hospital.

            Pete scowled.  “You could have gone to the Prescott's house.”

            “They’re away.”  I sipped the tea and savored the cool mint flavor.

            “The Randal’s’ then.”  He pulled the other mug across the table.  “The guys insist the two of us make one perfect cop.  Want to 

Seducing the Photographer is featured on Thursday's Opening Scene #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Romance, #Photographs #broken bones

 “Done.” Meg Blakefield closed her laptop and sank back in her chair. “Move. Friday at last.” Unlike her siblings and co-workers she refused to use the cliché. And unlike most of them she had no plans for the weekend beyond revising her rules of life. Should she scrap them and come up with a new set? Her present ones hadn’t taken her to her desired place, a home with the man of her dreams. All she’d earned from following those rules was a hand full of failed relationships.

Her elbows rested on the desk. The next issue of Good Lookin’ was at the printer’s, a perfect ending for an intense week of work and a very long day. She yawned.

The office door opened. One of her brothers stepped inside. “Good. You’re still here.”

She looked up. “You must be seeing things.”

“I need a favor.”

“Sure.” She wanted to bite her tongue a moment too late. She’d just mangled one of her rules/ Know what you’re agreeing to before you commit to do a favor or you’ll find yourself in trouble.

“Thanks. You can pick up Steve Martin at the airport tonight. His flight arrives around nine.”

“Wait a minute.” Meg’s shoulder muscles tensed. Once more she had leaped into a steaming cauldron. She stared at her brother. What did his cat in the cream smile mean? Was this some kind of sick joke? “You want me to do what?”

“Go to the airport. Meet Steve’s plane. Drive him home. He spoke each word is though he spoke to a child.

Meg’s emotions tumbled over each other like stones in a polishing tumbler. “I’m the last person he would want to see. Remember the scene I created three weeks ago.” Though she hadn’t shouted her accusations the words had flowed through the open office door. She would never forget Steve’s reaction. First an angry denial. Then he’d laughed and declared he would do no more photo shoots for Good Lookin’. His voice had boomed.

“Come on. Steve doesn’t hold grudges. Kiss and make up. He would enjoy that.”

“Right.” Meg glared at her brother. She couldn’t tell him or anyone about her first meeting with the photographer.

He’s the one. Her body had taken fire the moment their hands had touched. She knew she’d been taken by the Blakefield curse.

Every time he came near or when there was a casual touch her body reacted and the voice in her head repeated those fatal words. She blushed. His knowing green eyes showed he knew about the strong attraction. He always smiled and made a teasing remark. Though she’d become adept at avoiding him her feelings hadn’t changed.

Mark laughed. “Pick him up.”

“Remember how he reacted when I accused him of leaking the details of my exclusive interview to that witch editor of Beauty Spot.

Mark chuckled. “I do. He resigned. Then Allie explained how you shoot first and regret at leisure. He stayed. He looks on the incident as a joke.” Mark pressed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “You never explained why you accused him.”

Because she hadn’t wanted to believe the man she’d been seeing was the one who had leaked the information. “She and Steve had a relationship. Believing he was the one seemed easy.”

Mark hooted. “They had a fling. The day you accused him she was a month in his past.”

“She used to be his boss. How was I to know where his loyalty lay?”

“I’ll give you that.” He straightened. “When he came to the group fulltime he cut his ties with her rag. Be a sport and do the airport run.”

“Send a limo.”

“A limo isn’t how we treat our employees. Dad’s away. Luke’s tied up. Allie’s with Greg. I’m off to check some B and Bs.”

“Maybe I have plans.”

Do you?”

“Sort of.”

He arched a brow. “No you don’t. What is your problem?”

She couldn’t tell him how every time Steve appeared she felt like a teen crushing on the school jock. “I…”

“Come on. Now that Allie’s moved you’re the closest to JFK and you drive that huge four door sedan.”

“So.”

“Company policy.”

She groaned. When any staffer was out of town on assignment unless they had

If the plane landed at nine, she could leave the airport by nine thirty. The drive to the Hudson River village where he lived would take an hour or so. Thirty minutes later she would be home. She could avoid the temptation to jump him for that long.

“You win. I’ll go.”

Mark patted her hand. “Good girl.”

She debated barking or biting. She waved him away. “You owe me.”

He paused. “One more thing. Take the wheelchair I parked in the hall. Steve had a small accident.”

Meg went into protective mode. “How small?”

“A lot of bruises and a broken leg.”

She rolled her eyes. There went her plans for a quick pickup and delivery. She would have to accompany him into the apartment. She thought about throwing something but the only thing on her ultra neat desk were her laptop, the phone and a stack of page proofs. She ran to the door.

“Mark, you really owe me and I’ll collect.”

The closing elevator door was her answer.

Steve Morgan. A sound midway between a sigh and a groan escaped. She was in trouble. He was hot. So was he but his frequent teasing remarks made her bristle. His green eyes hinted promises he would keep for a time. She wanted to believe he would commit forever but she’d heard volumes about his short attention span. According to her sister he’d dated and discarded at least four women in the three months he’d been a Good Magazine Group employer.

You don’t want an affair. Rule number two. Any man you consider must want a lifetime commitment. No matter how many stars she wished upon Steve wasn’t that man. She laughed. Saying yes to what hadn’t been and what would never be offered was foolish.

With her laptop in hand she stepped into the hall. Mark hadn’t been joking. There was a wheelchair in the hall. She pushed the chair to the elevator and rode to the basement parking garage. After putting the chair in the trunk she drove to her apartment and made an omelet for dinner. As she ate she checked the arrival time of Steve’s flight.

She was going to kill her brother. Around nine was really nine forty-five. By the time she delivered Steve she wouldn’t have the energy to drive back here.

Meg paced around the living room. Her plans had to be revised. She reached for the phone. She would camp in her sister’s fiancé’s apartment. In the morning she could visit Peek-A-Boo boutique, check the lingerie and speak to the owner about the possibility of a magazine spread for the February edition of Good Lookin’. What she’d seen of the bras and panties Allie had purchased had turned her thoughts in that direction.

She dialed Greg’s apartment. The answering machine invited her to leave a message. She received the same response on Allie’s cell and left the same words on both. “Meg here.  I need a place to crash for tonight. Bringing Steve home from the airport. Be there between ten and midnight.”

Meg rolled her shoulders. The tight muscles uncoiled. She had a plan to minimize the time spent with Steve. Was that what she wanted? No, but it was the only way to keep her current rules of life.

 

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Seducing the Chef is featured today with Thursday's Opening Scene #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #romance #chef #reviewer #old family feud

 Morning sun streamed through the wide windows of the lower floor office of Five Cuisines. Greg Ramsey typed the last item on the week’s menus. He checked the list of supplies needed and sent orders to the various venues. Monday mornings when the restaurant was closed had become his planning day.

He loaded the heavy paper in the printer and began the process of producing the menus for each of the five rooms. As the papers slid from the printer he heard a light tapping at the door.

“Come in.”

When his mother entered he rose and lightly hugged her. “Your timing is perfect. Just finished creating the menus for the week.”

Stella Ramsey, tall, slender with a gray streak in her dark hair, kissed his cheek. “How is my handsome son?”

“Pleased with our success.” Six months ago they had opened the restaurant and they were on their way toward becoming a profitable venture. For the past month there had been few empty tables at either evening seating. Even on Wednesday and Thursday they’d been solidly booked. The weekend brunches were gaining the attention of people who came to browse in the antique shops and other unusual stores in the Hudson River village.

He reached for the letter that had arrived last week. The offer could make or break his dream. He knew little about the magazine Good Eatin’ other than a spread was eagerly sought by the nation’s restaurants. As his silent partner, his mother had a voice in whether they should chance a bad review.

“What was so important you asked me to cancel my lunch date?” She smiled. “Please tell me you’ve found a weekend hostess.”

He shook his head. “The job is yours until you say you’ve had enough.”

“Might be soon.”

He arched a brow. “Something serious happening in our life.”

She laughed. “You’ll be the first to know. What about you? Have you met the woman of your dreams and the one who will make me happy?”

“When do I have time?”

“Make time. Several of the sous chefs are young and attractive. Ask one of them out.”

He held up a hand. “Not going there. They’re taken and I only poach eggs and a few other foods.”

She sat on the chair beside his desk. “So what’s the news you’re bursting to tell?”

He handed her the letter. “This arrived the other day. The offer could be a sweet opportunity”

As she read he studied her face. Her expression changed like the weather. His mother’s beauty always made him smile. He’d always wondered why she hadn’t married again. Had she mourned her father for fifteen years? He recalled the nights when he’d been awakened by their angry voices raised in accusations.

She touched the silver streak in her dark hair. She scowled. “You will not let those people near Five Cuisines. I won’t have them here.”

The venom in her voice surprised him. “Why not? I hear a feature in Good Eatin’ will place us among the top restaurants in the country.”

“I won’t let him use his magazine to destroy you the way he ruined your father’s dreams.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Peter Blakely, editor of Good Eatin’ of the Good Magazine Group, deliberately used his wife’s magazine to destroy Le Provencal.”

Greg rose and went to her side. He’d been sixteen when the tragedy had occurred. His father’s suicide had brought drastic changes in their lives. “Why would this Blakefield do that?”

She stared at her hands. “Your father told me his family and Peter’s had been at odds since they arrived in this country during the colonial days. Your father and Peter became rivals in high school. I met Peter in college. We fell in love and were engaged but we had a fight. I broke the engagement. Peter wanted no part of my parents’ restaurant. Victor heard about the break-up and comforted me. He went to work for my parents and we were married. Peter was furious. He threatened to destroy Victor. He waited for years until he found the right time and he succeeded.”

“How?” Greg met her gaze.

“He wrote dreadful articles about the food and the ambience. Victor had made changes in the décor and the menu. People stopped coming. The shame caused your father to take his life. Victor had always been mercurial and volatile. When he drank depression brought him low.”

“Do you have copies of these articles?”

“Your father wouldn’t let me read them. He burned them. Promise you won’t let these people near Five Cuisines.”

Greg looked away. Her comments disappointed him. Until he learned more about this feud he would hold off sending a letter of regret. “Are you sure this is the right decision?”

She looked away. “Yes.”

There was more to her story but he wouldn’t pry. He took the letter from her, folded the paper and placed it with the envelope in the center drawer. “I’ll handle this later. About the feud. Is there any reason for us to be involved?”

“Drop the idea of a feature. Peter Blakefield doesn’t forgive or forget.” She rose and walked to the door.

He had no idea how to discover what had been said about his father of Le Provencal. He didn’t want to slam the door on an opportunity. Maybe she would change her mind. He shook his head. An ancient family rivalry. How medieval.

 

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Tangled Dreams is featured with Thursday's opening scene #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #romance #child shared #leukemia #devastated father

 Janine Rhodes lifted her giggling charge into her arms and strode toward the cabin. She chuckled. Only a rich man would consider the sprawling structure a cabin. The rustic log cabin portion contained a large main room, kitchen, eating area and a powder room. A massive stone wing held eight bedrooms and five complete bathrooms.

Tammy wiggled free and ran toward the path leading to the swimming pool and cabana. Laughter trailed after her. “Catch me.”

Janine snatched her up. “Snack time. Then nap.”

“No.” The toddler yawned and rubbed her eyes.

Janine tapped Tammy’s nose. “You’re months away from being a terrible two.” Her feet crunched colorful fallen leaves blown from the woods. Only a few white clouds floated in the sky. A warm day for early October.

At the door, Janine turned to admire nature’s bright colors. Red, yellow and orange leaves adorned the trees. The dark green of pines formed a background.

Janine sighed. This job was the best she’d ever had. As well as leaving her weekends free for school, Andi and Rob had become friends.

She stepped into the large room and removed hers and Tammy’s jackets. After a hand wash, she popped the toddler into the high chair and poured a cup of juice and found cookies. While Tammy ate, Janine filled a mug with coffee. She sipped the rich aromatic brew and sighed with pleasure. The coffee here tasted like a treat.

Her glance flowed around the kitchen. She didn’t know what halt the appliances did but this was a chef’s dream. A long island separated the dining area from the kitchen. A large fireplace dominated one wall. Two dark brown leather couches fronted the hearth. A pair of recliners faced a large screen television.

By the time Tammy finished her snack, her eyelids drooped. Janine lifted the toddler and went to the powder room to wipe the child’s face and hands. A loud pounding at the door startled her. Tammy screamed.

“It’s all right.” Janine rubbed the little girl’s back.

Had to be a friend. Only friends knew the combination to the gate at the foot of the long driveway. Anyone else had to call the house to be let in. Before she had a chance to check the monitor, the loud rapping sounded again. She opened the door.

A tall man she recognized brushed past her. “Mr. Quinn, is something wrong?”

“Where’s Rob?”

“In his office. I’ll let him know you’re here.” Her employer’s attorney’s green eyes flashed. Anger or fear? His hair looked as if someone had run fingers through the thick dark hair.

“Don’t bother.” He strode toward the bedroom wing.

Janine watched him rush away. Was there trouble at the movie studio?

Tammy rubbed her face on Janine’s shoulder. She patted the child’s back. “To bed.” She entered the hall.

She heard Nate shouting. Janine sighed. Though from the first time she’d seen Nate Quinn, she’d felt an attraction but she knew there was no chance for any relationship. He still grieved for his wife who had died a year ago. An impossible dream. There were too many tangled threads to unravel.

Tammy popped her thumb into her mouth. “Bear.” Janine entered the bedroom wing.

Rob’s office door stood open. Nate Quinn’s near shouts flowed into the hall. “What am I going to do? I can’t lose him to that damned disease.”

Though she shouldn’t remain and eavesdrop, Janine froze in place. Curiosity gripped like an iron glove. Did he mean his eight year old son was ill?

Her arms tightened around Tammy. She should leave but she had to know what made him sound angry and defeated.

“He’s been tired lately so two days ago, I took him to see Andi. She ran some tests and called me around noon, wanted Davey admitted to the hospital. She asked Dr. Chou to see him.”

“Did you?” Rob asked.

“Yah. I just left him there and fled in a panic. I can’t endure anything going wrong.”

Janine edged along the all and stared at the open door. Nate Quinn looked ready to collapse or cry.

“Dr. Chou is excellent,” Rob said.

“That’s what Andi said.”

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Leukemia.”

Those words brought a rush of tears to Janine’s eyes. Tammy wiggled. Before the little girl cried, Janine loosened her hold and stepped into the child’s bedroom. Janine’s knees buckled. She drew deep breaths to calm her raging thoughts. She bit her lip and focused on her charge.

“Nap time.”

Tammy popped her thumb into her mouth “’Kay.”

Janine lowered the little girl into her crib. She tucked the white bear into Tammy’s arms. Janine left the bedroom and hurried down the hall without pausing to listen.

She sank on one of the brown leather couches and wrapped her arms around her waist. What would she do now? The urge to cry nearly overwhelmed her. She had come to Fern Lake for two reasons. To enroll in the Master’s program in Child Psychology. And to fulfill a request made by a dying woman.

Footsteps muffled by the thick area rug caused her to turn her head. Nate Quinn lumbered past. His slumped shoulders concerned her. “Mr. Quinn, are you all right?”

“There’s nothing you can do. Just mind your own business.”

But… His scowl and sharp tone chilled her. Did he know who she was? A tear trickled over her cheek. Once again she was attracted to a man who had no use for her. Good thing she’d kept her identity hidden. More tears fell.

Once the crying bout ended, she wiped her eyes. She filled a mug with coffee and glanced at the clock. Soon, Andi would be home and she could leave. She walked to the child’s room. Tammy rolled over. Janine returned to the main room and to her coffee and the book.

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Forgotten Dreams is featured on Thursday's Opening Scene #MFRWAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Thursday #Opening Scene #romance #Second chance

Chad Morgan leaned against the wall near the French doors leading to the garden of the ball room. The scent of June roses drifted on the breeze. A distant hum of traffic rumbled beneath the pop songs played by the band. Dark clouds played tag across the moon carrying the promise of a coming storm. His thoughts approached another kind of storm, one burning in his gut.

Tonight was his to savor but the taste was sour. The celebration of his latest flick bored him. His body ached from the day’s six hour workout to keep his body fit for another action adventure as the unbeatable Storm. The fourth of the franchise his agent and the studio hoped would never end had been released today.

Music blared playing the latest tunes along with the series’ theme song. Couples gyrated to the pounding beat. Women wearing glittering gowns and men in dark tuxes turned like fragments of glass in a kaleidoscope. He released a breath. Just another Hollywood party.

In a silent salute, Chad raised his glass and sipped. He welcomed the burn of rum and cola. His drink and Storm’s favorite though there were times when he wanted a beer. Images must be maintained at all times. Nothing effete about the kick ass hero, his way with women and his ability to hold his alcohol were to be admired. What no one knew produced a chuckle. Unlike his on screen persona, the glass he held contained his first and last alcohol of the night.

He watched a curvaceous blonde weave her way among the dancers headed in his direction. She paused to lift a glass of champagne from a strolling waiter’s tray. Her top shimmered beneath the lights. The low swoop of the neckline barely covered her nipples.

Chad sipped again. He should know her…Her name was Mindy, Mandy, Bimbo. Just one of the latest crop of aspiring starring ladies who managed to attend every important party. She glided closer.

“Hiding in plain sight?” Her husky whisper left him cold.

“Observing,” he said.

His laughter raised a groan. “What do you see?”

He could answer with the truth but he wouldn’t. Truth wasn’t needed tonight. What he saw was false laughter, pretense and boring people. He looked past her. “The same thing I see at similar affairs. What’s your pleasure?” He had an idea but he wanted to hear her ploy.

Her smile held a promise he didn’t want. She ran her hand along his arm. “I’m tired of secondary roles.” She sucked in a deep breath and nearly exposed her nipples. “I hear there’s another Storm movie being cast.” Her fingers reached his shoulder. “You could let people see the chemistry between us. That’s what your last leading lady did.” She touched his lips. “I’m available.”

“Did Cindy really do that? I never guessed.” He fought the urge to laugh. Cindy’s agent and his had orchestrated the romance that had only been in the papers not in life.

He spotted the man he’d avoided all evening. Though he didn’t want to speak to Gregson, the man’s presence would chase this opportunistic female away. He stepped away. “Speak to your agent. Perhaps he can arrange a reading. Mine is on the way. He wants to talk.”

She pulled a card from her cleavage. “Give me a call. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

Gregson arched an eyebrow. “A new conquest? Time for some promo ops and rumors.”

Chad shook his head. “She wants to star in my next movie. Not happening.”

His slender, blond agent smiled. “Shame. You tempted?”

“Not interested. What’s on your mind?”

“You need to sign the contracts for Storm five and six. They want to start filming in September.”

Chad released the breath he held. “I need a break. I’m tired of being typecast.” Before the four Storm films, there had been spots in three other action films. He pointed to a trio of babes headed in their direction. “I’m also tired of being a chick magnet.”

Gregson scowled. “Goes with the territory. Think photo op.”

“Not the kind of life I want anymore.”

“What you want and what the studio demands shows you’re not reading the right script. Do number five and six and they might give you a chance to do something else. It’s the money, my friend. You opened in the top spot world wide this weekend. You need to keep doing what you do best.”

Anger bubbled closer to the surface. Chad feared erupting like Old Faithful. “I’m sick of Storm. I’m tired of kicking ass. I’m fed up doing the same scene with slight variations again and again. I want to do Rob’s book. You said the script was great.”

Gregson’s hand landed on Chad’s shoulder. “Not your style. I’ve shopped the idea around. Had some interest but not with you in the lead role. Two more Storms and you’ll be on your way to the bank with more millions. In two years we’ll ask again.”

In one long swallow, Chad finished the drink. He slapped the glass into Gregson’s hand. “In two years I’ll be dead from boredom.” He stepped out into the dark night.

“Let me know when you’re ready to toe the line,” Gregson called. “You know you will.” 

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Haunted Dreams is featured today on Thursday's Opening Scene #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Thursday #Opening Scene #Romance

 Zach Majors sat behind the oak desk in his law office. He stared at the phone in his hand. His mother’s words echoed in his thoughts. “I signed the contract to sell the house. That means the move is on schedule for tomorrow. Can’t wait to be settled for the holidays.”

He stretched and rose. Time to let his partner know the move would happen as planned and about his barely mentioned family. He’d told Nate about his guardianship of three boys without mentioning two were his sons, sort of.

With a groan he lifted three letters to be mailed and the discs for two briefs for Mrs. Madden to type and file. He flipped off the lights. At the office manager’s desk behind a plastic shield in the waiting room, he left the letters and discs in the out box on the corner of her desk.

As he was about to pass the sofa and chairs in the small room to reach the door his partner emerged from his office. “Finished for the day/’ Zach asked.

“Definitely. And you?”

Zach nodded. “Heard from my mother. I’ll see you Monday.”

Nate halted. “Is the move on?”

“It is. The movers are coming tomorrow morning and my family will arrive soon after that.” He drew a deep breath. The time for a confession had arrived. “I told you I was guardian of three boys but I failed to mention only one is a nephew. Two are legally my sons.”

Nate’s brow wrinkled. “Legally? Are there problems with the custody? Some court battle ahead?”

Zach shook his head. He wasn’t ready to elaborate. “No real problems but I’ve only had custody of my sons for four months. My coming to Fern Lake made the process harder. Steve, he’s the oldest, resents leaving the city. I’m sure there will be problems but I’ll handle them.”

Nate nodded. “I understand. With you here except for weekends made forming bonds harder.” He stepped toward the door. “Are you sure you’ll be settled by Monday?

Zach laughed. “My mom should have been a drill sergeant. She’ll have the boys including me in line. By Monday I’ll be here and glad to escape. With your wedding on the heels of Christmas I’ll need to know about everything I’ll have to handle while you’re away.”

“You don’t need me. Just ask Joan Madden. She’s the real boss.” He halted. “Do you have your Christmas tree yet?”

“Sort of.”

Nate chuckled. “How can you sort of have a tree? Don’t tell me the movers have one on the truck.”

”They probably do. My mom has this artificial one she’s put up for years. By now it resembles a Charlie Brown tree.”

“Will she be upset if you find a new one?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then come to Jake’s Tree Farm with me and buy a live one.”

For a moment Zach hesitated. What would his mother think? Her artificial tree had been displayed for about fifteen years. He smiled. A new tree and a new tradition seemed right. His sons knew so little about the holiday season. Their eyes had widened when they’d seen the Thanksgiving feast. How would they react on Christmas morning?

Unwanted guilt rose. He’d sent gifts when he’d known their address. Then Bonnie had moved and a bank account number was all the info he had. He’d always wondered what she had bought them with the extra money he’d sent for holidays and Birthdays. He had no way of learning unless the boys talked. Sammy might but his youngest seldom said much about his mother.

He slipped on his coat. “I’ll join you but I need to go home and change.”

Nate grinned. “I’m not going in my work clothes as Davey calls suits. Meet me at the house. Janine will be joining us.”

“How is Davey handling all this?” Zach hoped the boy wouldn’t sulk about not being included. After the course of treatment for childhood leukemia, the boy had been isolated for weeks at home.

“He’s coming with us. Dr. Chou lifted the stay at home order this morning.”

“That’s great.” Zach paused. “My nephew and one of my sons are close to Davey’s age. When we’re settled and you’re back from your honeymoon, we’ll get together.”

“They’ll meet at the wedding reception,” Nate said.

“That’s right.” Zach hoped the boys would behave. They’d seldom been among strangers and had never been anything like a wedding. He followed Nate to the door. They rode the elevator to the ground floor and went to their cars.

“See you in thirty,” Nate called.

Zach pulled out of the lot and drove to the new house he’d purchased two weeks ago. He slid the car into the driveway and stared at the large redbrick, two story dwelling with a three car garage. How fortunate he’d been to find a place large enough for his family.

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Melodic Dreams is featured today on Thursday's Opening Scene #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Romance #music composer #occupational therapy

 Chapter 1

 

To the sounds of her nephew banging notes on a xylophone, Maria emptied the last box of kitchenware she’d found at the thrift shop less than a block from the apartment complex. She paused and laughed. She knew that song, the theme from Jeopardy, her mother’s favorite program.

She drew a deep breath. So much to do to make this one bedroom apartment into a home for her four year old nephew. Beds to make, clothes to unpack. She needed to buy curtains to cover the blinds and add color to the ecru walls. She’d been fortunate that the woman from the Human Resources Department at Fern Lake General had found this place.

Last night, she and Jamie had slept on the green carpet in the living room pretending to be camping. This morning the furniture and other purchases from the thrift shop had been delivered.

Jamie finished his rendition with a sweep of the hammer over the keys. She leaned against the counter and loaded their bowls from lunch into the dishwasher.

Maria drew a deep breath. Inside, she quivered with tension she refused to allow to show. She must succeed.

Enough dawdling. There was a man she needed to see. Her gut clenched.

“Jamie, put your toys away. We’re going to see your father.” And pray the man agrees to pay for Jamie’s pre-school while she worked. Two weeks from today, she started at the local hospital as an occupational therapist.

“Will he like me?” Jamie asked.

She hated the worry in the boy’s voice and in his brilliant green eyes. She ruffled his dark curls. “What’s not to like?”

“He never came to see me.”

Maria sucked in a breath. She could have tried to locate the man years ago, but her mother had been adamantly opposed. “He didn’t know about you. Nana didn’t know his last name.” Maria brushed hair from her face. They could have learned. She couldn’t tell Jamie about his grandmother’s anger. Guilt curled in her thoughts.

Jamie looked up. “How did you know?”

“When we were packing to sell Nana’s house, I found some papers in a suitcase your mama left. I saw his name and looked for him.”

Jamie nodded. “Uncle Carlo said my mama runned away ‘cause my dad was mean.” His eyes widened.

She put her fingers on his lips. “What does Uncle Carlo know?”

“Just TV and beer.”

Maria popped toys in her huge bag and walked to the door. They rode the elevator to the semi-enclosed parking area and her battered ten year old blue sedan. She fastened Jamie into his booster seat.

Twenty minutes later with only one wrong turn, she pulled into the U-shaped driveway leading to a huge house at the top of the rise. She rehearsed what she planned to say when she saw Jamie’s father. She swallowed against a lump in her throat. How would he react when she handed him the folder with her reasons for being in Fern Lake?

“Is that the house?” Jamie pointed up the hill. “Looks like a castle.”

She agreed. The gray stone building rose three stories above the ground. Shrubbery lined both sides of the driveway. She turned in her seat and winked at her nephew. “Maybe we’ll meet a prince.” Or an ogre, she added silently.

“Don’t want to stay here. Want to live with you.”

His voice was shrill with fear that she needed to change. She touched his hand. “You will. I’m your guardian.” Except for the widened emerald green eyes, he looked like his mother without her selfish nature. “We need your dad’s help to pay for your pre-school while I work.”

Maria hoped for more than financial aid but she couldn’t tell Jamie she wanted his father in his life. Jamie needed a man, someone more honorable than her brother. She wanted Jay Lockley to spend time with his son. She’d always thought not looking for him had been unfair but she’d been unable to fight her mother and start a search in the days after the accident. Then, college had absorbed her time. Would the man understand?

Maria sighed. If Jay Lockley spent time with Jamie, she could focus on her new career. Was she selfish to want time for herself? Since her sister’s death, Jamie had been her responsibility. And her joy. Though her mother had watched her grandson while Maria attended college and worked, most of her spare time had been spent with the child.

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The Virgo Pisces Connection is featured on Thursday's Opening Scene #BWLAuthor 3MFRWAuthor #romance #medical #Virgo #Pisces

 The alarm blared and jerked Megan from a dream she wished hadn’t ended. During the night she had found him, the perfect man for her. Though she hadn’t seen his face, his hair was dark and his eyes were hazel. She sighed. She’d had this dream before but her dreams never came true. She sat up and touched her toes. Prince Charming had vanished like mist as had the three men she had recently dated. Their attitudes and aspirations had told her they weren’t right. She rubbed her eyes, slid from the bed and dashed to the bathroom to begin her morning routine.

Fifteen minutes later, she sat at the kitchen table and turned a coffee mug in circles. One gulp of the aromatic brew did nothing to jump start her enthusiasm for the day ahead. A long sigh escaped.

Every day for months, her eagerness to head across the street to the hospital had lessened. A year ago when she’d started working on the Oncology unit, she had welcomed the challenge. Since that day, twenty of her favorite patients had died. The past week had been the worst of her career. Two of her patients had died. With dread, she waited for the third. These days she felt as though a sinkhole had opened beneath her, leaving her dangling with no way to escape.

Move. Time to go. She had never been late to work a day in her life. Not happening today. With a sigh, she stuffed a pen holder, her keys and money in the pocket of her pink scrubs. While pulling on her sheepskin lined jacket, she rode the elevator to the ground floor. The town clock chimed the quarter hour. She would make the seven AM start.

As she trudged across the street, the brisk breeze of the February morning made her shiver. A pale sun shone through clusters of gathering clouds. She pulled open the door of the employees’ entrance and paused at the time clock to punch in.

Her friend Suzanna Winstone dashed inside and grabbed her card. “Megan, guess what?” Her voice rang with excitement.

“You’re pregnant.” Just like three others of the Grantley Gang.

Suzanna smacked Megan’s arm. “Are you crazy? I’ve only been married for weeks.”

“I figured with Jenessa, Cate and Lauren ready to increase Eastlake’s population, you were next. Might be catching.” She walked toward the elevators.

Suzanna laughed. “Caleb and I found a house. Lauren’s place is waiting for you.”

“Don’t expect me to move in. I’m happy in my apartment.” She rang for the elevator. Lauren’s house had seen four of the six members of the Grantley Gang finding love while living there. Wouldn’t work for her. Her perfect man existed only in her dreams. She stepped into the elevator.

Suzanna followed. “Lunch?”

“I’ll let you know.”

When Megan reached the unit, she checked the assignment sheet before cornering the night nurse for report on her four patients. Then she began rounds and started care. Death hovered in her thoughts. Who? When? Mr. Phelps was going home. Though not cured, he had gone into remission. Then on to Mrs. Gray and Mrs. Brown. She quickly completed their morning care and treatments. Both responded favorably toward their chemotherapy.

Megan entered the room of her favorite patient and rubbed her arms to chase a sudden chill. The five year old girl looked so tiny and frail. A virulent type of leukemia had drained the child rapidly. The little girl’s color nearly matched the white sheets. Megan drew a deep breath. Though the night nurse had assessed Bonnie’s condition as stable, Megan knew the woman had been optimistic.

Not today. Please. As certainty entered her thoughts, her stomach lurched.

“Morning, Button.” She waited for the child to open her eyes and make her usual response. The little girl’s eyes remained closed. She didn’t speak. Megan cleared her throat and tried again, hoping to hear “Not Button. I Bonnie.”

The child’s eyelids fluttered open exposing her dark eyes. Bonnie seemed to stare at a point in the distance. Slowly, she focused on Megan. “Tell…Mama…Not be …sad…Hurt gone.”

The whispery voice brought a cold shiver. Megan checked Bonnie’s pulse. An erratic beat bounded against her fingers. Shallow breaths were interrupted by long pauses. Megan’s fears deepened. She pulled her cell phone free and dialed the number taped to the bedside stand.

“Mrs. Mellis, Megan Carter here. I’m Bonnie’s nurse. You need to come at once.”

“Is she?”

“No, but she’s very weak.” Urgency filled her voice. She prayed the woman would arrive in time. She bit her lip to keep from crying. Why this child? Why now?

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