Fiction 1

44 Cranberry Point by Debbie Macomber

By Debbie Macomber

Olivia Lockhart-Griffin
Cedar Cove, Washington

Dear Reader,

Jack and that i are only again from our honeymoon, and I'm wanting to meet up with my neighbors Bob and Peggy Beldon, who run the Thyme and Tide bed-and-breakfast at forty four Cranberry element. It's a favored position yet (needless to say!) issues haven't been a similar due to the fact that a guy died there. seems his identify used to be Max Russell, and Bob had recognized him in brief in Vietnam. no one has any inspiration why he confirmed up or—most vital of all—who killed him. since it now looks that he used to be poisoned. I yes desire, specially for Bob and Peggy's sake, that someone figures it out soon!

Not that they're supplying the single information in Cedar Cove nowadays. Romance looks all over between my friends and family. I'm happy to document that Grace Sherman has greater than her percentage of males. Her daughter Maryellen is getting married to Jon Bowman. And my mom, Charlotte, turns out to have a guy in her existence, too. I'm uncertain how i think approximately that yet….

There's plenty of different gossip i'll inform you. sign up for me at Peggy's position for a cup of tea and one in every of her exceptional blueberry truffles and we'll talk.


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As the deputy returns, the exporter grumbles: “Formidable allies. ” “Don Ramon, it’s people like that who make revolutions.  . by finishing off the riffraff,” said Don Ramon in that toneless voice he uses for dubious transactions. • 44 birth of our power The two visitors move off, out of place on that street lined with stately houses. ” José asks brusquely. The ex-stevedore shifts the invisible load on his shoulders. ” “Don’t say that, my boy. There are things that those foxes can overhear at a distance, through the thickest walls.

Lejeune came to a halt on a street corner. Shiny automobiles slid along the asphalt, leaving a phosphorescent trail behind them—in our eyes. “I’ll hit the banks,” he said. “There are bound to be a few days of disorder, you see. So, I’ll hit the banks. My revolution will be over quickly. I don’t believe in theirs. Monarchies, republics, unions—I don’t give a damn; you understand? Get myself killed for a bunch of sanctimonious, honest, syphilitic homo sapiens? I’m not so dumb. You only live once.

The night dragged on; yet we weren’t the least bit tired. He continued his soliloquy. “You see, nothing is real except you for yourself. Me for myself. I am alone, just like you. Close your eyes: the stars disappear. You might love a woman to the point of wanting to kill yourself for her: but you still wouldn’t feel anything when she had a toothache. Alone. Alone. We are all alone. It’s awful when you think of it!  . I’m getting gray. I’ve got high blood pressure. What do I have to look forward to?

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