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Wait! She’d forgotten to mention Beau’s amazingness. She left another message. As different bits of information flowed through her brain, she left another and another. She phoned until she’d said everything she had to say about everything.
Satisfied with a job well done, she finally rang Conrad. Since no one from the future showed up, she knew she’d chosen the correct path. When he, too, ignored her, she left a message.
“Guess what?” she told him. “I didn’t do any drugs, so I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m not even having problems with my bladder. My panties are bone dry, thank you very much. But do you still want to go on a double date with Beau and his date of my choice or not? If the curse has already driven you away, just tell me already. But do it after the double date. And wear black. It really makes your backside pop. Okay bye.”
Nailed it. She dropped the phone and stretched out on the carpet of soft green grass. For minutes, hours or years, she watched as leaves and limbs swayed in the breeze, morphing into shapes. One shape resembled a shadowy, man-sized cloud so close she could reach out and touch it. Warm. Solid. Then gone.
“Come back,” she muttered. It didn’t. Oh well. Her eyelids turned as heavy as boulders, sliding shut, and she grinned. Darkness enveloped her before a final thought drifted through her mind. Life has never been better.
CHAPTER ONE
“Sift enough dirt, find your gold.”
Aurelian Hills, Georgia - Speed Dating Event
7 Matches Made
10 days later
Life had never been worse! Caretaker of the dead, shemertaker.
Jane’s temples throbbed as she tidied up the small cottage she’d inhabited most of her life. Bright afternoon sun blazed through the windows, illuminating the dust motes that danced through the air. The living room, her current locale, was her favorite spot. A handmade blanket draped over an orange crushed velvet sofa. Near the hearth, two floral print chairs provided a comfy place for her and Fiona to knit toys for children in need.
As she bent over to rearrange the array of throw pillows, the temple-throbbing worsened, and she groaned. When would the effects of the thorn apple fade?
While the headaches had ebbed and flowed, her dry mouth remained constant. A racing heart kept her tossing and turning every night. Although, yes, the speedy pace might stem from recollections of how she’d behaved while under the influence. What she recalled, anyway. She shuddered to consider the horrors she might have forgotten, her cheeks blazing white-hot with mortification.
Sighing, she dragged a rag over the coffee table. The piece of furniture she treasured most, despite its plethora of nicks. Or maybe because of them. Each mark revived a cherished childhood memory with Grandma Lily, Pops and Fiona. Not to mention the light ring that reminded her of a time she’d been so enraptured by Conrad, she’d set his glass of sweet tea next to the coaster.
Gah! Not again. There was no booting from her mind the man or the messages she’d left for him. Though he had returned her calls the next day, she had refused to pick up. Her usual MO when it came to dealing with her assortment of unsolicited messages. A girl needed time to process her mistakes and prepare for the consequences.
She’d also avoided Beau whenever he’d patrolled the cemetery grounds, doing security things. Whatever that entailed. Thankfully, Eunice and Ana hadn’t gotten back to her. A small mercy. And a huge irritation. What would it take to garner a response from either of her former classmates?
For that matter, why hadn’t Ana approached Jane for a quote about the recent murder of Dr. Marcus Hotchkins? The crime had taken place here at the cemetery, and Jane was the one who’d stumbled upon the body. If that wasn’t worthy of front-page coverage on the AH Headliner—aka the Heads-Up, an app run by the town’s only investigative reporter, Ana herself—well, Jane didn’t know what was.
Anyway. When she had confessed her tangle with the devil’s snare to Fiona during an impromptu Thursday night knitting session, her dear friend had nearly broken a rib from laughing. Especially at the part where Jane admitted to sleeping in the grass all night, then stumbling home the next morning to dispose of the toxic trash bag. A true walk of shame.
But the worst part? She kind of, sort of… missed Tree. The old magnolia hadn’t spoken to her a second time. Not even when she’d paced in front of it, demanding a repeat of his sage advice. Or any advice. She didn’t recall exactly what he’d said the first go round, only that he’d offered answers for her every dilemma.
The sound of something ripping yanked her into the present. What…where…Jane gasped. Using the sharpest of sharp murder mittens, Rolex clawed the lacy curtains that framed the bay window.
