Page 1 of Starting Over

Prologue

“Mama, you can’t be serious.”

“I promise you, Colleen, I am very serious. You knew this was coming,” I reminded my daughter.

“I thought you were just dreaming, like usual. Papa just died,” she argued.

I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. Wassheserious?

“Colleen, your father has been gone a year. It’s time I moved on with my life. I want to be more than just Duane Murphy’s widow.”

“Of course, you are more than that, Mama,” Colleen cried.

“I’m not. I can’t be anything but that here.”

I continued folding clothes, putting them into suitcases. Boxes sat in Colleen’s spare room. The contents consisted of my favorite things that I couldn’t take with me. Photo albums, mementos of a life I no longer wanted. Iwould have someone send them to me once I was settled.

“Did Braesal give you permission?”

My hands froze in midair, before I slowly turned and looked up at my daughter. Clearly, I did a poor job of raising her if she thought a forty-eight-year-old widow needed permission to do anything.

“Colleen Marie Murphy. I am your mother. I do not need your permission to live my life. Nor do I need Braesal’s. Now, Iam leaving first thing in the morning. Are we going to spend the whole evening arguing, or do you want to go to the bar with me?”

“I’ll go,” she sulked.

“Good. Help me take my things out to the car, and then we can go. When we come home, I want to go straight to bed. I don’t want to worry about loading anything in the car in the morning.”

“You won’t forget me, will you, Mama?” she asked, reminding me of that little girl who never wanted to start school.

Each year, we went through the same thing. Her asking me not to forget her while she was gone, and every year I told her the same thing. “You never forget the best day of your life.”

Pulling her close for a hug, I added, “Once I get settled, you will come visit. Who knows, you might love it too.”

“I doubt that,” she snorted. “You want to live in the middle of nowhere. I like the city, having everything available in less than a quarter mile.”

I hadn’t told her where I was going.

Not yet. I couldn’t take the chance she might let it slip and Sal would find out. As far as Colleen knew, I was driving across the country, looking for a place that spoke to my heart.

Almost fifty years in the city, yeah, I was looking for a quiet little town where nothing ever happened. Maybe if it was small enough, they wouldn’t even have a police station.

I’d had enough dealings with cops to last a lifetime. Good cops looking to make a name for themselves, and dirty cops looking to make a fortune.

Colleen and I hefted my bags down to my car.

My pride and joy.

A silver-blue 1965 Mustang convertible.

Betty.

She had a pristine white interior and a white convertible top. Duane surprised me with her on our twenty-fifth weddinganniversary. He’d had her fully restored, and I drove her every chance I got.

The only problem: her design wasn’t suitable for winter. As long as I got settled before the snow fell, I would buy a truck and put Betty away until the snow melted.

My daughter and I had been at the bar for an hour when Braesal O’Malley, the head of the Irish Mob, walked in. I knew he wouldn’t let me leave without talking to me. I’d hoped our last conversation would have been enough.

“Maura, looking beautiful as always.” He put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me close, kissing my cheek.

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