Page 4 of In This Moment

Hand at her bosom, Scarlett gasped. “How judgy of you. I love it.”

Opening the door, Dorothy picked up two dishes and headed toward the kitchen. Scarlett and Rebecca did the same until all the items were in the fridge. Afterward, they found respective seats in the living room.

“So, what’s with the neighbor? Name, age, deets. For you to drop Yankee in a sentence considering you’ve been a northerner for a decade is saying something.” Scarlett waved her manicured hand. “Out with it.”

“This convo requires cocktails.” And probably chocolate.

“I’ll get it.” Dorothy rose and sorted through the bags. Grabbing glasses from Gammy’s China cabinet, she mixed peach schnapps, brandy, grenadine, and lemon-lime soda for their customary Georgia Sunset cocktails. Good thing because Scarlett, per Dorothy, was too heavy-handed with the booze portion. “There we go.”

Rebecca took a sip. “Damn, that’s good.” She folded her legs under her and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know the new guy’s name, but he’s about our age. Midwestern accent. He referred to Vallantine as hillbilly backwater.”

Dorothy twisted her lips in a frown. “Not cool.”

“Definitely not.” Scarlett tilted her head. “From a newcomer standpoint, I can see the reference. How long’s he been here?”

“Don’t know. He was having a duck fit because Harold was tossing his mail on the curb and not in the box.”

“Ah, so not long enough to know he needs to feed Harold’s sugar fix.” Scarlett nodded in understanding. “He could maybe be forgiven. Is he good-looking?”

Dorothy gave her the hairy eyeball. “Because that matters.”

Rebecca laughed. How she missed this, missed them. They were three very different women with three very different personalities, yet they fit. Completed one another. Supported and encouraged. She always felt like she was waiting for a punchline in their presence.

A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead walk into a bar…

“Well? Is he?” Scarlett demanded.

Rebecca sighed. “Oh, yeah. He’s handsome, all right.” And he also thought the sun came up just to hear him crow. No, thank you.

Chapter Two

Inside a popular tavern in the tourist district, Graham Roberts stared at his beer from a corner table. The Tipsy Turtle. No lie, that was the name of the joint. It was sandwiched between What A Pickle Deli and Guac On Mexican Restaurant in what passed as historic downtown. Or Main Square, as the townsfolk called it, which was shaped like an ‘I’.

An old library, beaten down and falling to shambles, was at the tip of said I, flanked by park grounds and a cemetery. Down a ways was a giant one hundred and fifty year old peach tree that no longer produced fruit. Locals called it ‘Miss Katie,’ after the town founder’s wife. She and the tree were pretty legend in these parts. There was a wrought-iron fence around the trunk’s base and benches to sit and bask in its glory. First time he’d heard that tidbit, his eyeballs thunked the back of his skull, he’d rolled them so hard. The library had once been owned by the Vallantine descendants, but someone else had possession of the place now. In the two months he’d been here, they’d done nothing with it. Apparently, the building was haunted by the same woman the tree was named after, but not in a boo sort of way. Another eye roll.

The center of the I, all the way to the end and down both directions, had independent shops and restaurants with colorful awnings. Cobblestone streets, cast-iron old-world lampposts, and even flower boxes at the curb. Cherry blossom trees were finishing their spring blooms and drifting pink petals everywhere. Idealistic small town. He’d give Vallantine this, it was pretty, and the patrons were friendly. Hell of a lot better weather than Minnesota, for sure.

“You’re not drinking.”

He glanced at Forest, sitting beside him, then back at his untouched ale. They’d gone to college together and stayed close after Forest had moved back here and Graham had stayed in Minneapolis. If not for Forest, in fact, Graham would’ve been shit out of luck after the scandal.

“Sorry. My mind was elsewhere.” He took a sip, glancing around.

Polished dark wood floors, tables, and bar. The walls were a rich navy color, but the ceiling was aqua with white swirls, bubbles, and a giant sea turtle painted in a mural. Metal lanterns on the tables and blue neon overhead lighting. It was a neat place. More like what he was used to in the city than the bars on the outskirts catered to locals.

The clientele was mostly not from around here, best he could tell and judging by the t-shirts.

“You okay, buddy?”

Glancing at Forest, Graham took in his friend’s short, wavy brown hair and overgrowth on his wide jaw. Concern radiated in his deep brown, almost black, eyes, causing remorse to shift yet again in Graham’s gut. He was trying to start his life over and a good chunk of his career, and Forest was coming fresh off a nasty divorce to the Wicked Bitch of the West. What a sad pair they made.

“Yeah, man. Sorry again.” He was always sorry, and a sorry excuse for a human. “How’s work treating you?”

Forest had gone to his father’s alma mater for college on his dad’s request, all so he could take over the bank one day. He currently was in charge of the loan department until his father retired. He rarely, if ever, talked about it, giving Graham the impression he wasn’t all that happy.

“Eh.” Forest shrugged. “Same ole, same ole. Nothing exciting. I’ll be going over the library renovations for the historical society, though. Looking forward to that.”

“Renovations?” Graham had heard whispering around town, but nothing he could connect the dots on. The building had been closed since he’d moved. “What are they doing?”

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