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CHAPTER ONE
Conflict ruins a good book. It’s stressful. Give your readers a peaceful escape.
Y’all Write Now–Advice for New Writers
by Tabby Paynes-Murksand
“Now stretch your arms and wave hello to our beautiful sky,” Jane Ladling said as she demonstrated from her textured, seafoam green mat. Though she’d posted an online ad and invited the entire town to participate in her newest venture, hoping to garner a monthly membership income, only her closest friends had shown up. A true travesty. Graveyard yoga might be the greatest idea anyone anywhere had ever entertained. “Now wave goodbye.”
This was the last Saturday in March, and it deserved a nice send off.
Her bangs fell into her eyes, and she blew them off her forehead. So annoying! She wished she’d let the fringe grow out, but nooo, she’d had to indulge in a moment of uncertainty and cut them again. Once she saw properly, she surveyed the morning participants as they heeded her instructions. Affection overflowed in her heart.
There was Fiona Lawrence, her sixty-three-year-old bestie, knitting partner, and national treasure. Then came Tiffany Hotchkins, a distant relative, widow, former nemesis, and now a long-term roommate. Plus, Beauregard “Beau” Harden, Jane’s dearest childhood buddy, and the head of safekeeping here at Garden of Memories, a landlocked cemetery in the idyllic small town of Aurelian Hills, Georgia.
Her favorite cohorts, Trick, Isaac, and Holden had been forced to leave the morning festivities early for a job. They worked with Beau at Peach State Security and considered Jane their casserole dealer. She fed their addiction, and in return they helped her catch murderers as necessary. Her absolute favorite hobby. Honestly, she was quite the busy honorary detective with an extensive list of solves. Okay, so, four solves. Still. Her talent spoke for itself. She rocked mysteries. Not that everyone cheered her (amazing) skills.
Today she’d set up her yoga studio in the reflection center, a tranquil courtyard boasting concrete benches and tables, with room to walk and, well, reflect. Or pose and reflect. Sunlight glowed through the budding trees surrounding the center’s outer edges. Soon wisteria and gardenias would bloom and scent the air.
A gentle breeze kicked up, not too hot, not too cool. An ideal day to enjoy nature while feigning an expert knowledge about proper breathing and stretching. Also, she wore the perfect outfit for this type of activity. A soft blush pink tank top adorned with peach blossoms and leggings of sage green with an overdone wild botanical print. On the other hand, could nature’s elegance ever be overdone?
“So far we’ve completed Soul’s Embrace, Corpse Pose and Enter the Light Flow,” Beau said, unaware of the fact that his shirt had ridden up, revealing a mid-section packed with an impressive array of tan muscles. The blond war vet clearly worked out for multiple hours every day, and probably even in his dreams. “What’s the name of this particular position?”
“I’m inclined to refer to it as Clean Slate,” she replied. A new day meant a new chance to shine.
“My slate is clean, I swear. Spotless even. Can we be done now?” Tiffany pressed her hands together, forming a steeple. The classic please give me what I want stance. “Fiona promised to make blueberry pancakes if I completed the class without running away and screaming.”
Fiona’s blueberry pancakes? Jane’s mouth instantly watered. For such a culinary delight, she’d do just about anything. Even end her one-of-a-kind routine before she’d gotten to show off her closing pose: the Final Nail.
“Class dismissed,” she all but shouted. Her stomach demanded the sweet treat immediately. There was no better food in the world. Except maybe Conrad Ryan’s cinnamon sugar French toast.
A moan slipped from Jane’s lips. For the food, yes, but also the man. Conrad Ryan happened to be the best sheriff ever to sheriff in the history of sheriffing, and her fiancé. The dreamy lawman had rang her at six a.m. to invite her to lunch in his new office, and she was already breathless with anticipation.
Her gaze dropped to the world’s most perfect engagement ring, and she grinned. The band, forged from the very gold once mined from the nearby Georgia hills, bore subtle engravings reminiscent of the hedgerows that lined multiple sections of the Garden. At its heart gleamed a stunning sapphire, the deep blue hue reflecting the serene skies above these beloved grounds. Surrounding the gem, tiny diamonds sparkled in clusters that reminded her of floral arrangements. Homage to her devotion and care for this sacred space she called home, as well as the bright future awaiting her.
Jane would never regret proposing to Conrad on Valentine’s Day. After giving her a soul-rocking kiss, he’d revealed the ring he’d purchased soon after their first date, yanked her against him and spun her around, laughingly telling her, “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes” like any suitable Jane Austen heroine.
Some of the town’s people thought they were moving too fast, as evidenced by the smattering of posts Jane had read on the Headliner, the best source for community updates, either online or in print. In between speculation about the magical, cure-all ingredient in the chicken noodle soup from Daisy’s Diner and the identity of an unnamed local man who’d supposedly won a ton of money in the lottery, she discovered references to the new sheriff needing to take time to date around before settling down with “Cemetery Girl.”
Had she and Conrad met a little less than a year ago? Yes. Had she run from her feelings for him in the past? Also yes. Was she at war with a self-fulfilling, generational love curse? For sure.
Fall in love and lose the guy. Marry him and watch him die.
But Jane had decided. Never again would she make a decision based on fear, the curse’s sole power source. In turn, joy proved to be its greatest weakness. She wanted Conrad, and so she would have him. No one gave her more joy. The curse didn’t stand a chance.
You’ll regret this, the curse whispered in the back of her mind.
Jane didn’t hesitate. Zip it, liar. I’ll regret nothing!
“Ugh. She’s staring at the ring and smiling again,” Tiffany muttered, earning a merry laugh from Fiona. “We’ll have to wait another hour for her to regain her senses. At least! And I don’t understand why. I’ve been married once and engaged twice, but I never looked at my rings the way she does.”
Jane forced herself to focus. Because pancakes. “To the house we go!”
Beau and Fiona chuckled while the widow pumped her ringless fist in the air and jumped with excitement. Together, their foursome hiked over the rolling hills until reaching a cobblestone path. The family cottage came into view. A two-story beauty with a wrap-around porch and windows bracketed by blue shutters. The protesting wooden steps and creaking screen door created music she’d enjoyed even as a little girl.
Inside, Jane scanned the living room for Rolex, her precious fur-child and incomparable guard cat. No sign of him, but as always when she entered her childhood home, memories of Grandma Lily and Pops overwhelmed her. Each piece of furniture sang with their history. From the crushed orange velvet couch to the scarred end tables now covered with metal dies, a hand crank embossing machine and weeding tools. Bits of colorful paper were scattered over the hardwood floor.
Tiffany had a new hobby of her own. Card making.
