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I sailedright past the wooden sign readingClosed for the Bluebirdsposted outside of Bluebird Books. The women of Outtatowner were milling around, gathering snacks and drinks before sinking into the mismatched couches, chairs, and ottoman seats scattered haphazardly at the back of the bookstore. The atmosphere was cozy and intimate, with soft candlelight casting dancing shadows and a soothing melody playing from a speaker in the background. It felt like stepping into a chic, private club, where secrets and stories were shared beneath the watchful gaze of tattered book spines.
As I settled into a comfy love seat, MJ shot me a mischievous grin. “Did Duke get that shopping cart off the pond?” Her eyes twinkled with amusement, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. The memory wasn’t without its sting, though. The shopping cart prank had been a thorn in Duke’s side until his men had managed to rescue it from the half-frozen pond. It was entertaining for the town, sure, but Duke had been less than thrilled.
“Eventually,” I replied, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “The pond wasn’t frozen enough to hold the weight of a person, so retrieving it was a pain in the ass. Finally, one of his men lassoedthe cart, and they pulled it off the ice. It made for some great afternoon entertainment.”
MJ laughed, and the conversation shifted naturally to the ongoing pranks between the Kings and Sullivans. Kate Sullivan sat nearby, and she leaned in. Her voice remained low but cut through the air. “We’ve got a bigger problem than shopping carts.” Her tone was laden with both concern and frustration. “Someone’s been poking around, looking into mineral rights on the farm.”
My heart skipped a beat. Duke hadn’t mentioned anything about that to me. The unease bubbled beneath my smile, invisible to the others.
“In the Sullivan speakeasy,” Kate continued, “we found a bottle labeledKing Liquor. And there’ve been trespassers on both Tootie’s property and a few of the pastures.”
From across the room, Bug King chimed in. “Can’t prove it was a King and not just some curious lookie-loo trying to get a taste of the drama.”
Kate’s response was a begrudging agreement. “Fair enough.”
Amid the chatter, Annie Crane’s voice rose like a songbird, full of hope. “The Kings and Sullivans used to be friends, you know. Connected in ways that seem to have been forgotten. I did some research that proved, without a doubt, they were friends. I just can’t figure out what happened, you know?” She looked around the room. “Does anyone know what happened?” Her eyes scanned the faces in the room. Her question lingered like a shadow over all of us. “Old stories, rumors? Anything?”
Mabel, a long-standing presence in town, cleared her throat and spoke up. The wrinkles on her face seemed to hold the weight of decades of secrets. “I may recall something.” As she began to speak, her voice took on a hushed and conspiratorial tone, drawing us all in like moths to a flame.
“I remember an old rumor,” she began, her words brushing against the air like a gentle whisper. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on her features, giving her an almost mystical air. “Three families shared adjacent land. Kings, Sullivans, and Sinclairs were as close as kin. Two families merged, but things started to fall apart.”
I leaned in, captivated by the anticipation that hung in the room. Mabel’s voice wove a tale of love and business gone awry, of a romance that had blossomed in our small town. “It was very dramatic, from what I can recall. My parents talked about the friendship between Helen, James, and Philo. Thick as thieves. When Prohibition hit, the trio started bootlegging.”
“That explains the liquor bottle with the King name we found.” Kate shrugged as pieces began fitting into place.
A sigh escaped Mabel’s lips, a wistful breath carrying the weight of a lifetime’s worth of memories. “It was highly illegal, but they made a go of it—making liquor and selling it across state lines. The business took a toll on the friendship. My father always talked about how misunderstandings have a way of taking root,” Mabel mused, her voice tinged with sadness. “A stolen glance, a whispered word misheard, and suddenly their friendship was rewritten by the hands of fate.”
I could almost feel the ache in her words, the ache of a town that had once been united, now torn apart by the very friendship it had nurtured. “Helen and Philo were married and expecting their first child. They wanted out of the bootlegging business,” Mabel continued. “The Kings and Sullivans were like two ships passing in the night, their sails once billowing with shared dreams, now caught in the winds of rivalry, pride, and greed.”
The room seemed to hold its breath, the very air heavy with the weight of history and Mabel’s knack for storytelling. “It’s said that James and Helen never stopped loving each other, but they turned their back on their friends.” Mabel’s gaze lockedonto mine as if she could see the turmoil within me. “Love alone can’t mend the bridges we burn, nor can it heal the wounds that time has etched.”
As Mabel’s voice fell silent, the room seemed to exhale, the spell of her story gradually lifting. I sat back, lost in thought, the echoes of her tale reverberating through my mind. The love story of Helen and Philo and the aching loss of such deep friendships stood as a haunting reminder of what could be lost to misunderstandings and pride—a reminder that the choices we make can shape not only our own destinies but the destinies of generations to come.
I couldn’t help but feel like Duke and I were simply players in a larger drama, a tale of love and rivalry that had been unfolding for generations in our town. As I looked around the cozy enclave of Bluebird Books, at the flickering candles and the faces filled with curiosity and empathy, I knew that the story of Outtatowner was far from over, and that maybe—just maybe—the love I had for my baby could one day mend the fractures that had divided us for far too long.
Tensions between the Kings and Sullivans were indeed at an all-time high, and I was right in the thick of it. The life growing within me was a testament to the bond between Duke and me, yet it also tied me to a feud that seemed as old as time itself. The uncertainty gnawed at me, thoughts of what it might mean for the future tugging at the corners of my mind.
As the conversation flowed on, I found myself lost in thought. The mingling scents of old books, sweet pastries, and the faint hint of the lake breeze wrapped around me like a comforting blanket.
As the evening wound down, my eyes flicked to Bug and Tootie as they approached me, their eyes filled with determination. Bug sat next to me and placed her hand on myknee. “You focus on taking care of yourself.” She tapped the tip of my nose gently. “And we’ll take care of the rest.”
With an unsure nod, I watched as they walked in opposite directions, each step a testament to the unspoken support that surrounded me. In a town where rivalries ran deep, I couldn’t help but wonder if love and unity could eventually triumph over old grudges and secrets buried in the sands of time.
Duke Sullivan wantedtodateme.
Publicly.
Since our outing at Rivale, being seen together in town was a regular occurrence, but Duke had left me another kitchen note asking me to a date nightin. Excitement danced under my skin as I took my time with aneverythingshower to prepare. At just past eighteen weeks pregnant, hiding my belly was no longer an option, and I was enjoying the softly rounded way it jutted out.
For tonight’s date, I had chosen a wrap dress that highlighted my belly. Whenever I did, Duke couldn’t seem to keep his hands off me, and I didn’t mind that at all. Plus, it had been too damn cold to wear any of the cute maternity dresses I’d bought, so an at-home date night was perfect.
I stared out of my bedroom window, the soft glow of Christmas lights illuminating the snow-covered rows of blueberry bushes. It was early December, and Duke had managed to surprise me yet again. Not just with his rugged charm and those intense brown eyes, but with his knack for reading my mind. I never would have guessed that mentioning Christmas lights in passing would lead to him decorating the entire house and porch with them.
I couldn’t resist Duke’s magnetic pull, and despite the gossip swirling behind our backs, with him I feltsafe.
I jumped at the soft knock on the door, and when I pulled it open, I was met with the sight of him in a well-fitted shirt that seemed to have been designed solely to showcase his broad shoulders and strong arms. My gaze flicked to his lips—a dangerous move, because I could lose myself in his kisses for hours.
“Hey,” he said, that lopsided grin appearing. “All set?”
