Denise Carbo Books
Heart's Melody (EBOOK)
Heart's Melody (EBOOK)
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Her heart and mind want two different lives…
Monica is a rule follower. She doesn’t color outside the lines and she’s always the most responsible person in the room. Except for a few life-altering decisions which she blames on temporary insanity.
Brody is her opposite in every way. He’s impulsive, fun-loving, and trouble follows him wherever he goes. He’s also her brother’s best friend and completely off limits.
Sometimes life delivers what we need instead of what we think we want. The past has overshadowed her present for far too long. Will Brody be there to catch her when she falls? And will she let him?
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Chapter One
Pain—it shapes who we are. Some moments in our lives mark us like inkblots on paper. From those points, our lives change and branch out in different directions and choices, like the root system of a tree. We can never be the same after those defining moments.
I kneel in front of the gravestone and brush off the debris at the base. Lichen has grown on the side. Next time I come, I’ll bring a brush and clean it off. The cold from the ground seeps into me. According to the calendar, spring has arrived in Granite Cove. But Mother Nature hasn’t quite let go of New Hampshire’s winter. The foot of snow from the storm last week has mostly melted except for in the shadiest spots and the piles left behind by the snowplows.
The wind moans through the trees and lifts my hair, whipping it across my cheek and sending a shiver down my arms. A clump of hair snags on my glasses. As I untangle the mess and shove my hair back into my hood, a brown strand breaks off. My black parka is long enough to protect my knees from the damp ground, but the low heels I wore to work don’t provide much protection for my chilled toes. Leaving school in my shoes instead of boots was a mistake, but I was tired and ready to go home. Granite Cove Elementary is in the throes of spring fever. My third graders are impatient for warmer weather even more than I am. Being cooped up inside for months on end can turn even the mildest-mannered eight-year-old into something from a horror movie.
“Hi, Rosie.” I briefly rest a hand on top of the carved angel perched above the headstone before stuffing both of them back into the pockets of my coat to keep warm. My gloves are still sitting in my desk drawer at school. I don’t know where my mind was this afternoon. “You’ll never guess what my students did today. You remember little blond, blue-eyed Zoe? She’s usually sweet, quiet, and helpful, but today, she abruptly stood up from her desk and screamed at the top of her lungs for no apparent reason. When she finally stopped and I asked her why, she shrugged and said she needed to let her feelings out. She struck me speechless for a solid minute with that one.” Just one of the many times I’ve considered an eight-year-old might be smarter than me. Then again, adults can’t go around screaming in public places to let their feelings out. Kids frequently get away with things adults can’t. Screaming alone in my house might be okay, though.
“Then this afternoon, Deacon, who admittedly isn’t as saintly as his name might imply, decided to not only change all the names on the cubbies so the paperwork went into all the wrong students’ sections but also somehow switched the contents of the backpacks of about a dozen of his classmates before I caught him. He winked at me and smiled as widely as you please, like I hadn’t just caught him red-handed. He’s going to grow up to be either a criminal or a politician. I’m not sure which.” Or both. He could definitely be both these days.
A car inches past my gray wagon parked at the end of the row of headstones, and my fingers clench in my pockets. The driveways through the cemetery aren’t wide enough for two lanes, and the only parking is outside the gates. In the winter months, there are usually fewer visitors, so parking my car there was less likely to impede anyone and prevent me from freezing walking back and forth. I wince as the hood of the passing car dips down, as they must have driven off the road to fit around my car. It’s too late to offer to move it now, right?
The car rumbles past and continues through the graveyard toward the newer section. The smell of gas and exhaust trails in its wake. Sighing, I glance up at the overcast sky visible through the branches of the oak tree towering over the half a dozen rows of gravesites lining this middle section.
“So, I have some news. You’ll never guess who’s getting married. Or maybe you already know. Sometimes I imagine you’re watching us on a TV screen or something and snacking on popcorn. Brian proposed to Katy over the weekend. She said yes, of course. I knew he was planning on asking but not this weekend. I went ring shopping with him only last week and helped him brainstorm proposal ideas. But you know Brian. Impulsive is his middle name. They showed up for Sunday dinner and announced the engagement. Mom and Dad were over the moon.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear and pull my hood closer to my cheek. “Katy said her parents are thrilled, and her mother is already talking about grandchildren. Can you believe it? They’re not even married yet. I admit my eyes must’ve widened a bit when I started wondering if she was already pregnant, especially after she said they wanted the wedding this fall. I mean, what’s the rush? But she wants to get married on her parents’ anniversary and doesn’t want to wait a whole other year for it. So of course, I got Brian alone later and asked him outright if Katy was pregnant. He rolled his eyes at me and said no. I still say it was a perfectly valid question.” My little brother, who was a confirmed bachelor less than a year ago, is suddenly not only engaged but also planning to marry in six months. Of course I’m going to ask a question or two.
The same car comes back down the road and inches by my car. I wrinkle my nose as the same dirty-engine smells assault my nose.
“Anyway, so wedding planning is in full swing. I suggested talking to my friend Lucinda, who is a wedding planner, but apparently, Katy’s mom nixed that idea. Brian says she’s a bit of a control freak, and Katy struggles with standing up to her. Glad it’s not me.”
Mostly glad anyway. “I’m a little envious, watching all my friends and now my brother get married. Not that I’m not happy for all of them. I definitely am. It just seems like each of my friends is finding love, getting married, and starting families. I told you Tina and Kelly had their babies. I have a feeling Franny or Olivia will be next. Rebecca might surprise us, though. If I were a betting person—which we both know I am not—I would bet on Franny. She’s got that look in her eyes every time she holds one of the babies.” The book-club ladies are all finding love and starting families while I stand on the sidelines, watching.
Purple, yellow, and white crocuses bloom at my sides despite the snow and cold temperatures. Some leaves are brown and withered instead of green. Their lives are so short. “I should add some more bulbs, since they seem to be doing well here. I bet they’ll spread and give you a nice carpet of flowers next year. What do you think? You always did like pretty things. The hyacinths and tulips I planted in the fall should be up in a few weeks. They’re your favorite color, pink. I should’ve planted flowers instead of bringing them sooner. You’d have your very own garden by now if I had.”
I huddle closer to the gravestone and duck my head against the wind. Rosie would like being surrounded by flowers. And as long as I don’t plant anything too invasive or something that will spread everywhere, the cemetery manager said I can plant what I want. It seems rather apropos to plant miniature rosebushes on the sides of the headstone too. I glance up at the sun and the maple tree, which will cast partial shade over the area when its leaves come in. But it should be sunny enough for the bushes.
“Wedding planning should keep Mom and Dad happy for a good long while. At least through fall and the wedding.” And I hope give me a brief reprieve, if they’re happy and preoccupied with Brian’s nuptials. “If she does get pregnant right away or within the next year, that’ll extend their happiness, don’t you think? Can you imagine them as grandparents? It’s hard to say which way they’ll go. They could be over-the-top involved, or maybe they’ll be reserved and hesitant to get too attached.” I shake my head. There’s no reason to go down this obstacle-filled path just yet. Pregnancy and babies aren’t the present. The wedding is. One major event at a time.
“I’m trying not to borrow trouble—really, I am. But I worry Mom won’t be up to much wedding planning. Even with Katy’s mom being controlling, some responsibilities will fall to the groom’s family, right? I guess I’d better have Lucinda fill me in on all the details so I’m prepared. You know I’m a planner. I need to schedule whatever is coming so I can shift things around and make time for any tasks I need to take care of. At least I’ll have more time over summer break.” I guess I’ll have to put off that national park trip I’ve been planning for another year. I didn’t have much hope I’d be able to get away anyway. Good thing I never actually worked up the courage to book anything.
My shins and feet are turning numb from the cold, so I stand and brush off my legs. I touch my chilled fingers to the name engraved on the headstone—Rose Marie Lynn Frasier. Tears fill my eyes. “I miss you, Rosie. I really wish you were here. You always managed to cheer me up and make me laugh.”
I rub my cold cheeks and force a smile onto my lips. “We have a birthday coming up. I’ll bring you your favorite chocolate cupcake with pink frosting, as usual.” Maybe this year, Mom won’t take to her bed for a couple of weeks.
“Well, I’d better say goodbye before I turn into an icicle.” I trace my fingers over Rosie’s name and the words carved underneath. I pause over ‘beloved daughter and sister’ just as I do every time. Will the ache ever ease? My fingers drop, and I lower my head.
I stare at the dates on Rosie’s headstone. I’ll turn twenty-nine on our birthday. Our last party was for our ninth. I’ve had twenty years of lonesome birthdays.
“Good night, Rosie Posie.”
The childish response echoes in my head. Good night, Monie Lonie. The image of us as two little girls giggling as we performed our nightly ritual from our twin beds side by side fills my head. We shared not only a room but a womb too.
Chapter Two
Brian’s truck and an unfamiliar Jeep block my parents’ garage. Frowning, I park behind the Jeep. I should’ve gotten details when Brian asked me to stop by after work, but I didn’t have time because my lunch break was ending and I had to get back to class. I assumed it was wedding stuff, but that’s not Katy’s vehicle. She drives a BMW her parents passed down to her for her college graduation. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. Please don’t let it be bad news.
It's doubtful any answers will come to me while I’m sitting in my car in the driveway, so I grab my phone out of the holder attached to the car vent and open my door. The snow has melted, and my parents’ lawn is that patchy brown and green before spring takes over and the blooming season is in full swing. I’ll have to check with Bobby and make sure my parents are on his landscaping schedule this year. Otherwise, it’ll likely fall to me to mow and take care of everything again. Maybe I can talk to Lucinda and Bobby at the same time and check two things off my list. They’re always together these days anyway—engaged and inseparable. What does it feel like to want to be with someone all the time? I’ve always preferred having my own space and taking a break from people. It’s hard to imagine letting someone encroach on my personal space or time, yet there’s still this yearning inside me. Maybe humans are built that way to ensure the survival of the species. Either that or someone up there in charge likes the drama of watching people interact and make fools of themselves.
Voices reach me when I open the door and step inside. My parents’ Cape Cod house isn’t huge, and from the front door, I can partially see into almost all the rooms except for the den and bathroom. No one is visible in the living room or family room, but Dad gives me a wave from his chair at the pine kitchen table. Brian tilts his head around the corner. “’Bout time you got here.”
I roll my eyes at him while I take off my shoes and coat. “School gets out at the same time every day, Brian. I told you when I’d be here.”
Mom appears in the archway between the foyer and the kitchen. She clasps my hands and smiles. “How was your day? Oh, your hands are chilled. Would you like some tea to warm you? Why aren’t you wearing gloves?”
I glance into the kitchen. My heart stumbles when my gaze locks on the man leaning against the end of the peninsula across from Brian. I blink a couple of times as my brain scrambles to process the scene—blond hair; tall, broad, muscular build; hazel eyes. And a dimple pops out as a smile spreads over his mouth.
Succotash! Succotash! Succotash! Brody Jackson stands in my parents’ kitchen. This might be one of those times I wish I hadn’t trained myself to substitute harmless words for swear words so I wouldn’t inadvertently blurt one out in class. Succotash just doesn’t carry the same punch. Brody Jackon is back in Granite Cove.
I guess I know who the Jeep belongs to. It’s not exactly the Mercedes he used to drive or his parents’ Porsche, which he crashed through the guardrails and into a pine tree when he was twenty.
“Hey, Mon.”
His voice sends warmth through me. Please don’t let me blush. He’s the only one who ever shortened my name or gave me any kind of nickname.
I swallow hard. “Brody.” I glance at my brother. This can’t possibly be why he wanted me to stop by, can it? Having his best friend show up in town after several years is an event for him, but what do I have to do with it?
“Isn’t it wonderful, Monica? Brody is staying at his parents’ house this summer just like when you were kids.” Mom walks by him and pats him on the arm. “I’ll make you that tea.”
“You sit, Mom. I’ll make it.” It will give me something to do while I figure out what’s going on. I scoot past Brian and Brody, grab the teakettle off the stove, and fill it with water while I stare out the window. Our old swing set sits in the back corner of the yard. It’s rusted and unsafe, but my mother refuses to let me have it removed. Visions of Brian and Brody playing on it as kids while I sat at the picnic table doing homework flash through my mind. I was the designated babysitter until they were in their teens and old enough to go without. Although their teen years seemed to be when they needed the most supervision. The two-year age difference between us felt more like ten. While I was getting all A’s in school, helping out at home, and working at the library, Brian was barely passing classes and getting into one mischief or another with Brody.
After I set the kettle on the stove and turn it on, I take a deep breath, paste a smile on my face, and turn around. Brody is the only one watching me. Brian talks with my parents about his latest job, wiring houses in a new development. Working as an electrician for our uncle was a turning point for Brian. His plans to take over the business when Uncle Todd retires will help ensure not only his future but also any children he and Katy have. Brody left right around that time and stopped coming back during the summers. Maybe that had more to do with Brian growing up and not getting into trouble as much.
Brody walks over and leans his back against the sink next to me. “Brian tells me you’re a teacher now.”
“Yes, at the elementary school. And you? The last time Brian mentioned you, he said you were a musician.”
“Yeah, it pays the bills,” he says with a shrug.
“That’s good.” I can’t imagine many people can make a living at music, so he must be decent to make enough to pay his bills. Then again, if he’s spending the summer in his parents’ house, maybe they’re still supporting him. Brian told me when Brody dropped out of college that his parents had cut him off and kicked him out, but maybe they reconciled. “You’re staying with your parents? How are they?” Does this mean he’s going to be around a lot? It’s not like Brian still lives here with Mom and Dad, so Brody will likely go to Brian’s place, not here.
He stares at me for a moment before answering. “The same. They won’t be here. Haven’t been for years. It’s usually rented out, but it needs some work. I decided to handle it since I need to be here for Brian’s wedding.” The corner of his mouth kicks up. “Surprised the hell out of me when he said he was getting hitched.”
“Me, too, but he’s happy and in love.”
“What about you?”
I fold my arms and frown. “What about me?”
“You married? Engaged? Involved?”
Nope. None of the above. Terminally single. I’ll probably be one of those old cat ladies, except without the cat. “No. You?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. It’s hard to picture Brody married. He always had a line of girls after him but never one in particular.
“As single as ever.” His dimple appears with his grin, and my stomach tumbles like I plummeted off a cliff. “Maybe you and I should make one of those pacts. If we’re both still single at a certain age, we get hitched.”
I gape at him for what feels like an eternity, but it’s probably only a few seconds. “To each other?”
He shifts closer. “Is it really so hard to imagine?”
Heat spreads over my skin. Have my parents turned up the heat in here? No, it’s not that hard to imagine. In fact, the thought crossed my mind one too many times right before he disappeared.
I drop my gaze over his navy-blue sweater and jeans, down to the blue socks covering his feet. The crush I developed on my brother’s best friend was not one of my prouder or saner moments. Does he know? Is that why he’s talking like this? I thought I kept my feelings hidden, but why else would he be joking about something so ridiculous? Is he needling me about my former pathetic crush? Subtly letting me know he knows?
I meet his gaze briefly before glancing away. No. He would’ve said something back then. He’s just being his flirty self. He used to flirt with every female in his radius—except me. Which made sense. I was older and used to babysit him, for goodness’ sake. Plus, I was his best friend’s sister. And I was the complete opposite of his type. He dated the wealthy summer girls with their perfect faces and figures.
“Are you thinking about it, or have I lost you completely?”
Lost me? Thinking about what? Did he ever have me? Want me?
Brian walks over. “What are you two talking about over here?”
Brody shifts away from me. “Just catching up with your sister.”
The teakettle sounds behind me, making me jump. “Anyone else want tea?” I turn and grab a couple of cups. Mom always says yes to tea. Everyone else declines, and Brian and Brody move to the table.
I practice my breathing exercises while I pour the water and get the tea bags. A few minutes back home, and Brody already has me wondering about things I have no business thinking about. He was only teasing and making small talk with his best friend’s sister, probably just trying to break the ice, since I was obviously shocked to find him in my parents’ kitchen.
Mom takes her cup from me with a smile and a nod. I slide onto the empty chair next to my dad and on the opposite side of the table from Brody.
“Now that you’re both finally here together…” Brian grins and rubs his hands.
What is my dear little brother cooking up now? What involves Brody and me together?
“I want the two of you to be my best man and woman—both of you. You know, share the role. I couldn’t pick one over the other. You’re both my best friends.”
Brian wants me to be his best woman? Tears threaten, and I purse my lips. “I’m so touched, Brian. Of course the answer is yes.”
“That’s double yes from me.” Brody slaps Brian on the back and grins at me. “I guess the two of us have some planning to do, Monica.”
My smile fades, and I swallow. Brody and I will have to work together on the wedding duties. My stomach flips over.
We’re both adults. I’ve matured. I no longer let a crush derail my logical thinking or turn me into a tongue-tied idiot who blushes at the mere thought of him.
This will be fine. We can communicate by email.
“Give me your number, Monica.”
I blink up at Brody standing next to me with his phone in his hand.
We can communicate by text. No reason to talk or meet in person.
Everything will be fine.
Chapter Three
“I have some news to share before we discuss this month’s book selection.” Franny’s hair glows like the flames in the fireplace she’s sitting next to. Her lavender shirt stands out against the navy chairs and complements her red hair and ivory complexion. She’s practically vibrating in her seat as her hands drum on her jeans-covered legs.
“Oh my god! You’re pregnant!” Lucinda jumps up from the couch and rushes over to her sister. She moves so fast that her blond hair flows behind her.
“What? No, Luce, I’m not pregnant. Although I have started taking prenatal vitamins, and Mitch and I plan to try this summer.”
Lucinda hugs Franny. “That’s still exciting news. I can’t wait to be an auntie!” She straightens her blue sweater as she returns to her seat on the couch next to Rebecca and Rachelle.
“We’ll have another baby to spoil!” Kerry grabs my knee and grins at everyone in the room. Her hazel eyes practically sparkle.
I smile back before staring into the flames of the fireplace. The heat warms my skin, and the crackle of the logs soothes my nerves. She and I are part of the dwindling single-ladies group in the book club and in the school system we both teach in. I never thought I’d feel left out as my friends and coworkers found love and started families. It never bothered me before, but suddenly, I am feeling pangs of loneliness.
The excitement is contagious as everyone chatters about babies. Tina and Kelly both gave birth in the past year and exclaim over having babies to grow up together. I shove down a slight pang of envy. I’m truly thrilled for all my friends, but part of me wonders if it will ever be my turn. I probably need to go on actual dates for that to happen.
Rebecca clears her throat to get everyone’s attention. “So, if it’s not baby news, what is it?” She swings her foot back and forth over her crossed legs and spins her ring around her finger.
“Remember, ladies, we do need to keep the noise level down a bit since we do have guests staying upstairs.” Rachelle points up.
I glance at the closed doors to the hallway. Three different sitting areas divide the ballroom, which Lucinda and Rachelle are calling the main room. When they hold a wedding or event here, they remove all the furniture and replace it with chairs and tables. Or in the case of holding the actual wedding in here like last month, they have rows of chairs and an arch for the bride and groom. They’ve turned the Granite Cove Inn from a neglected home into a sought-after wedding venue in less than a year. A lot of their success has to be attributed to Lucinda’s skills and charm. Even the inn portion is thriving under Rachelle’s management. Lucinda’s friend Jackie manages all the finances remotely, but she’s been visiting more often of late and has joined our monthly book-club meetings a few times. When they hosted the book-club ladies during their preopening stage, they gave us all questionnaires to fill out to let them know what was working and what they could improve. My only suggestion was to provide water bottles in the rooms so guests could take medication or relieve a dry throat without having to go downstairs. I couldn’t think of a single improvement. It’s not like I travel much, and the overnight stay was perfect from start to finish for me. I can still taste the sweet and tart lemonade Rachelle served and the blackberry tea with blueberry scones.
“Hear that, ladies? We’re a rowdy bunch.” Aunt Aggie slaps Sally on the arm. “Can you believe it?”
Sally snorts out a laugh. “Of you? Yes.”
We all chuckle. My godmother has never been the shy or silent type. Aunt Aggie keeps Uncle Dennis on his toes and often blushing. She’s the complete opposite of my parents. How did they ever become such close friends? It gives credence to the opposites-attract phrase. Mom and Aggie have been friends since elementary school.
“Sorry, Franny. We got sidetracked. What’s your news?” Lucinda gives everyone a silencing look.
Franny scoots to the end of her seat. “You know how Mitch has Bobby putting in those raised garden beds for me to plant vegetables this year?”
“Sure. Bobby showed me the layout he drew up. You’re having an herb garden, too, right? And a shed?” Lucinda pulls out lip balm from her pocket and applies it to her lips.
“Yes, it’s wonderful. He took my rambling dream list and is making it a reality.” Franny waves a hand. “Anyway, when they were digging for the foundation of the garden shed, they uncovered a locked box.”
Kerry gasps next to me. “You found treasure?”
Rebecca chuckles. “Leave it to you, Franny. You’re living on the estate of your dreams with your famous, gorgeous husband, and now you find treasure?”
Franny clutches her necklace and smiles. “I am pretty lucky lately, but I’m not sure I would classify the contents as treasure just yet.” She frowns. “Well, they might be to someone.”
“Now I’m intrigued. What are the contents, and who would they be a treasure for?” I lean forward in my seat.
Franny takes a breath. “Mitch had to cut off the lock. It must have been down there for some time, because rust covered both the box and the lock. We were afraid whatever was inside would be ruined, but it was completely dry and intact. It only smelled a little musty.”
“Get to the good part. What was in it?” Kerry rolls her hand in a hurry-up gesture and laughs.
“Patience is not your strong suit, is it? No wonder you teach at the high school instead of the elementary school.” I bump her shoulder in jest.
“One of many reasons, but yes. I’m one of those who skips ahead in a story to find out what happens.”
I gasp. “But doesn’t that spoil the story for you?”
Kerry shakes her head. “Not at all. Now be quiet so we can hear what was inside.”
I mimic zipping my mouth closed and turn back to Franny.
“A journal.”
“Whose?” Tina snatches a cookie off the tray and eats it while staring at Franny.
“That’s the thing. We have no idea. None of the names I’ve read match the previous owners or occupants of the house.”
“Did you read it?” Rachelle frowns and sips her wine. “I mean, it’s someone’s personal thoughts that they not only locked up but also buried. Sounds like they wanted it kept private.”
Rebecca rolls her eyes. “If they wanted to ensure no one ever read it, then they should’ve burned it, not hidden it for someone to find.”
Franny nibbles on her lip. “See, that’s been my dilemma. I didn’t want to invade someone’s privacy, but on the other hand, I’m really curious. That’s why I wanted to ask what you all think.”
“Then let’s take a vote. Everyone who agrees Franny should read it, raise your hands.” I scan the room as everyone’s hands shoot up except Rachelle’s and mine.
Franny widens her eyes. “You don’t think I should read it, Monica?”
“I’m on the fence. I understand Rachelle’s argument but also agree with Rebecca. But there’s something else to consider as well. You might find something out about someone that may be unsavory or even illegal. That could lead to even more questions and consequences.”
“Yes, I found that out before with Mrs. Roberts.” Franny looks at Lucinda.
“That was a shock, especially for Bobby, but I don’t think he regrets knowing.” Lucinda shrugs. “I believe it’s always better to have the knowledge, then you can decide what to do with it.”
Would I regret knowing my parents’ secrets? I guess it would depend on the secrets. It’s hard to realize your parents are only people too. They make mistakes like everyone else. Of course, Bobby’s parents made more than most¬—especially his mother. If the woman can even be called a mother. Child abandonment was probably one of her lesser crimes. I’m sure Bobby wishes she never came back into his life. But then again, if she hadn’t, he might have never known the truth about his father’s accident or the type of person the woman who spawned him is.
“Well, it’s my vote that Franny brings the journal to the next book club, and we can all read it and figure out who it belongs to.” Rebecca folds her arms and leans back on the couch.
“You think we can? I mean, figure out who it belongs to?” Franny stands and takes a cookie from the plate.
“Of course. Look at us.” Rebecca gestures to everyone in the room. “We’re a group of intelligent and successful women. We kick ass.”
I chuckle. “My research skills are fairly top-notch. It could be fun solving the mystery together.”
Kerry tilts her head toward me. “So you’re on board with reading the journal?”
“Yes, as long as everyone acknowledges the possibility that we might not like what we find out. People keep secrets for a reason, after all. And they’re not always pleasant.” Everyone has secrets. I certainly have my own. Aunt Aggie is the only one in this room who knows about Rosie, and I intend to keep it that way. People look at you differently when they know you’ve suffered such a loss. Book club is my haven. My past doesn’t define me here.
Aunt Aggie snorts. “It could also be boring as dirt.”
Rebecca raises her glass. “There is that possibility.” She turns to her sister. “What about you, Rach? Do you want to abstain from reading the journal?”
Rachelle wrinkles her nose. “No. My curiosity is piqued too.”
Lucinda claps. “We have a mystery to solve.”