Page 89 of His Brown-Eyed Girl

“That’s not true.” Addy reached over to Aunt Flora and took the hand spotted with age, the wrist with marbled veins splayed against papery skin. When had Flora’s hands aged so? “You’re so much more to me than an aunt. You know that. We’ve always been soul mates.”

Aunt Flora patted her hand. “Sure, we are, pumpkin. But I can feel change in the air, and I know it’s time for me to move along. And it’s time for you, too.”

“I don’t want to. I can take care of you, and Dad is putting in an alarm system. The guy is coming tomorrow. Look around. This is our home.”

“So what are you going to do, Addy? Become me?”

“No.” She shook her head, angry that Flora would think that’s a bad thing. “But what’s wrong with being you?”

“I’m lonely. I should have fought for Millard. I shouldn’t have let him walk away.”

Addy pulled her hand from her aunt’s. “That’s about your regret. Not mine.”

“So you’re going to give up on love? On having a family? On-”

“Wait,” Addy interrupted, pushing her chair back as anger flooded her. “Who says having kids makes you happy? Or getting married for that matter? There are plenty of strong, successful single women living their lives on their own terms.”

“Sure.” Aunt Flora shrugged. “I’m one of them, but don’t you think for one little minute that if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t throw Millard O’Boyle onto that worktable and make him mine. And I wouldn’t have slunk away and allowed him to walk away from me. I didn’t fight for the life I wanted, Addy. Don’t be me.”

Addy shook her head. “I’m not. I’m me. I don’t need a man to make me happy.”

“No, you don’t, but I want you to think about who you are and what you want. Don’t settle for what’s easy… for what’s safe.”

Addy bit her lip against further argument. Aunt Flora was good at probing her psyche and sliding her into uncomfortable rooms in her soul. Why couldn’t Flora have forgotten to be smart… instead of where she hid the Christmas gifts they still couldn’t find?

When Addy didn’t answer, Flora rose, her back cracking in protest. “Well, love, I’m off to have a bath and put on my jammies. Those kids are fun, but, woo, they’re a handful.”

“I appreciate you taking them and giving me and Lucas some time together.”

“If that flush on your cheeks is any indication, it was worth every bit of my aching bunion.”

“I’m not kissing and telling.”

“I hope to hell it was more than kissing. I’ve got corns, too.” Flora swooshed out the kitchen door leaving Addy to shut down the house. She pushed the chairs in, double-checked the dead bolt on the back door, and turned the light off in the kitchen—all the while mulling over Flora’s words. Maybe the older woman had a point, but then again maybe it wasn’t a worthwhile one. Flora hadn’t held Addy back from taking the life she wanted.

Addy had held herself back.

As she walked to check the front door, her eyes landed on the small box that had been delivered earlier.

Who made deliveries on Sunday?

Maybe it was a second order of floral wire that had been mistakenly delivered even though she’d called them and double-checked the correct address of her shop. Definitely wasn’t from Amazon.

Sliding a nail beneath the clear tape, she ripped the box open. Inside there was bubble wrap. A creepy feeling slithered down her spine as she carefully lifted the plastic.

Lying on the bottom of the square box were several photographs. Addy swallowed panic as she lifted the color prints toward the weak light of the foyer sconces.

The first was a photo of her climbing from her car, taken in broad daylight outside her shop. She wore the gray jumper she’d worn last week.

The second had been taken from inside her car. Whoever had taken the photo had slid behind the wheel and taken a picture of the shop’s rear door. But that was impossible—she always locked her car. Always.

Except one day last week it had been open when she finished for the day. She’d thought she’d left it unlocked. But she hadn’t. Someone had jimmied the lock… and she’d slid into the same spot he’d occupied.

The last picture chilled her to the bone. It had been taken last Sunday night. She stood in her robe, arms crossed in the darkness, framed against the darkness of the camellia bushes. Her face had been highlighted by the security lights outside the Finlay house, and she could just make out the side of Michael and the basketball.

Addy’s hands shook so hard she dropped one of the photos.

And then she dropped the other two.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com