“You knew Saturday night that Alicia wasn’t dead.” I broke the cookie in half and offered part to him. He shook his head. “Did you think it was Colton?”

  “Actually, I thought all of them were in on it. But Harper explained that yes, they’d been looking for a body to trick Scott into thinking Alicia was dead. But she never thought Colton would kill someone to get it. He convinced her to go along with the plan and told her that Sherry had probably killed the woman thinking it was her. He was her only hope to stay alive here. Like we’re some sort of den of vipers.”

  “Well, we do have our share of murders in town.” I ate his half of the cookie first so he couldn’t change his mind.

  “So let’s get out of town. Let’s plan a trip up to that fake Dutch town and just relax for a week. Can you get away from work?” He rubbed the top of my hand with his thumb.

  “Not this week. Or at least not today. We have a staff meeting, and I hate to leave the staff without a buffer for Aunt Jackie. What if we go next Saturday after I get off and stay the week?” I was getting excited about some time away. “Maybe Toby could watch Emma?”

  “He should be able to. If things go south here, we’ll have to come back, but we always run that risk.” He stood and came over to pull me to a standing position. “I know what you’re thinking. One fight and we’re done. But relationships don’t work that way. We have to just try to work things out. We’re committed. And it’s important.”

  I had a full day planned, and he was telling me that he’d never leave. “This is why I love you, Greg King. You’re always watching out for the little guy.”

  “White knight syndrome, I’m afraid. Do you want to break up? Is this too much?” He rubbed the middle of my back.

  “We’re good. I’ll let you know if you hurt me and I have to leave.” I found myself in a full bear hug as he pulled me closer. “Until then, remind me why we’re so good for each other?”

  “It’s a million little things.” He kissed me, warm and soft.

  Emma barked and put her nose in between our legs.

  “We have company.” I giggled as he brushed his lips over my cheeks.

  “She can wait. She’s telling me it’s time for me to go to work so you two can run. She’s so selfish.” He gave me one last kiss. “But she’s not wrong. See you tonight.”

  Alone again. I had a list of things to get in Bakerstown as well as a recipe I wanted to try. And a book to read, if not more than one. My life was perfect. We were alive, in love, and with a roof over our heads. And I had a vacation planned. Life was good.

  About the Author

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lynn Cahoon is an Idaho expat. She grew up living the small-town life she now loves to write about. Currently, she’s living with her husband and two fur babies in a small historic town on the banks of the Mississippi River where her imagination tends to wander. Visit her at www.lynncahoon.com.

  Recipe—Lemon Drop Pie

  I didn’t use to like lemon desserts. I guess the bite from the lemon cut the sugar hit for me when I was younger. Now, I love them. And for the same reason I didn’t like them before. A bit of a citrus bite makes the richness of the sugar and dairy all the more lovely.

  Lemon Drop Pie

  I use a premade graham cracker pie crust. So easy and just as good as homemade.

  Preheat your oven to 350F.

  In a medium bowl, whisk the following together

  1 14 oz can sweetened condensed milk

  5 egg yolks

  ½ cup lemon juice

  Pour the mix into the crust and bake for 25 minutes. Let the pie chill for at least 2 hours before serving. Serve with whipped cream.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at

  the first in a brand-new series from

  Lynn Cahoon

  The Tuesday Night Survivors’ Club

  Coming soon from

  Lyrical Books

  And don’t miss her other series

  The Kitchen Witch Mysteries

  The Farm-to-Fork Mysteries

  and

  The Cat Latimer Mysteries

  Available wherever books are sold!

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at The Tuesday Night Survivors’ Club by Lynn Cahoon!

  Click here to get your copy!

  Chapter 1

  Rarity Cole was living and loving her second shot at life. If she’d been a cat, she would have five more. Right now, she was just grateful to have this second chance after living through the breast cancer that had been almost too advanced to win against. Now, in the bookstore she’d cashed in her corporate stocks to buy, she felt at home. She shelved the last book from the box that had arrived this morning into her new healing section. It still looked a little sparce, but she was determined to give others like her options when the c-word was thrown around by a team of doctors who seemed to think they had total control over you and your body.

  Which reminded her, she still needed to find an oncologist in the area. The doctors from St. Louis had explained how important it was to keep up with the medical regimen they’d started her on, which meant not only taking a pill every day but getting regular bloodwork and mammograms to make sure she was okay. She’d been here long enough pretending she wasn’t still recovering from the cancer treatments. It was time to check into her body again. She took the empty box back to the main counter and wrote the task on tomorrow’s to-do list that she kept on the counter.

  The air conditioning blowing out of the nearby vent made her shiver, and she rubbed her arms before finding a sweater to put on. If she turned it down, she started to sweat every time someone opened the door to The Next Chapter, her new bookstore in downtown Sedona, Arizona. Her shop was positioned right between a fortune teller’s shop and a place that sold crystals. The crystal shop was owned by Rarity’s best friend from high school, Sam Aarons. Sam had talked her into moving here and away from St. Louis a few months ago.

  Honestly, she didn’t mind the new location. It was in keeping with her theme of the new her. When you walk away from ringing the bell at the oncologist’s office, you tended to reevaluate your life. Gratitude for what you gained and what you currently had.

  Which was, in Rarity’s case, a few extra pounds around the middle and the need for a nap at least once a day. Eating right and exercising hadn’t stopped the ten-pound weight gain that had circled her waist. And stuck.

  Rarity blamed the chocolate. She’d eaten a lot of chocolate, and ice cream and fast food, during her year of treatment. Then the visits had just stopped. She’d seen her doctor once since she was cured and once before she’d left St. Louis. They’d drawn blood to check to see if the cancer had returned. Or worse, if the treatment was now killing her instead of the disease. Doctor visits were always a barrel of fun. The bell over the door sounded, and she saw someone walk toward the counter.

  “I’m here for the meeting tonight.” A forty-ish woman stood in front of the counter. “I know I’m early, but I was so excited when I read about your new book club in the Sunday paper. I’m Shirley McMann. I finished treatment two years ago. Although, I’m still going to my oncologist every six months. They call it a well-baby checkup. And I’m rambling. George always says I ramble, and since having cancer, I’m worse. I guess I wanted to get out all my words before something else happens because tomorrow’s not promised.”

  Rarity took an instant liking to the woman. Shirley’s chattering was refreshing after hanging out in a slow bookstore and then going home to an empty house. “I’m Rarity Cole, owner of The Next Chapter, and I’ll be leading the group tonight. I’m almost at a year. Survivor. I always hated that term. But you work with what you’re given, right?”

  “I feel like I should have done something heroic to be called a survivor. Like survived a month in the desert or walked away from a plane crash. I just went to every appointment and did what they told me. Well, except for losing weight. I started baking again, and George doesn’t eat sweets. So there’s that.” Shirley glanced around at the area by the fireplace. “I see you found Annie’s Bakery. She bakes the best cookies in town. Well, besides me.”

  “Go grab a drink and a few cookies.” Rarity looked at the clock. It was almost seven, and Shirley looked like her only participant in the book club. Rarity had needed books when she went through treatment, but maybe having a group called the Survivors’ Book Club was off-putting. Like what Shirley said. “We’ll get started in a few minutes.”

  Shirley handed her a piece of paper. “Before I forget, George wanted to know if you could order these books for him. They’re all on World War I or maybe II. I forget what he’s currently researching. He makes planes and boats and stuff. You should see our basement. It’s filled with his models.”

  “Sounds like a fun hobby.” She glanced at the list. “I don’t think I have any of these in stock, but I can have them for next week’s meeting. I’ll just need a credit card to charge them on.”

  Shirley dug in her tote and pulled out a wallet. She handed over a card. “Set me up a tab because I’m going to be your best customer. George hates driving into Flagstaff to get supplies. And when I was going through treatment, he’d complain for a week after I had chemo about how long the drive was.”

  “I bet you were glad for the company.” Rarity thought about how Josh hadn’t come once to her treatments, saying that hospitals made him sick.

  “Yeah, as much as he griped, he’d bring games and cards. We had fun.” Shirley smiled at the memory. “Which I know sounds totally weird. Anyway, I’ll go get settled. You do what you need to do, don’t worry about me.”

  It was already ten after seven, so Rarity ordered George’s books, set up a contact file for Shirley and George, and then took the credit card back to where Shirley was sitting. She had pulled out a pile of pink yarn and a crochet hook and had started working on the project in her lap. Rarity held out the card. “Here you go. That’s pretty.”

  “It’s for my granddaughter. Karen and her husband are expecting. I’ve been working on this off and on for a month. I need to get it done, but it’s so hot sometimes. Sometimes I wish we still lived in Idaho. Getting through the winters there, I needed a project on my lap.” Shirley tucked the card into her wallet. “I’m sorry we didn’t get more of a crowd. I’ll bring someone next week. I promise. I hope you’re not thinking of canceling the club.”

  “No, there’s no need to cancel. It takes time to build a group.” Rarity sat next to the pile of books she’d chosen for possible discussions. “Have you read any of these?”

  Shirley shook her head. “During treatment I didn’t read anything but cozy mysteries. I could lose myself in the plot or the setting. I’m looking forward to expanding my reading choices.”

  Rarity moved the cozy mysteries she’d pulled into a side pile. “Okay then, I’ll take these off the list.”

  “Maybe someone else will want to read those,” Shirley protested.

  Rarity glanced around at the empty chairs. “I don’t hear anyone complaining. Let’s look at the women’s fiction. I wanted to start with a book that didn’t talk about cancer but instead dealt with a woman struggling with other problems.”

  They discussed the books until there were only five left on the table. Rarity heard the clock chime for eight thirty. “We did a lot of work tonight.”

  “We didn’t even choose a book.” Shirley pointed to the table. “We still have five up for contention.”

  “We can make the decision next week. I’ll put these on the counter with a flyer about how we’re going to start choosing one to read next week. Maybe that will draw some more people into the group.” Rarity could already see the flyer in her mind. She’d make it first thing in the morning.

  “You’re really good at this marketing thing.” Shirley tucked her blanket into her tote bag. “I’m happy you moved here and opened your shop. I’ve missed being part of a book club.”

  “I’m glad I did too.” She glanced around at the old building with high ceilings with tin plating on them. She didn’t know what the utility costs would be to keep this place cool, but she loved the look of the old brick and the warm wood floors. “It’s beginning to feel like home.”

  * * * *

  Wednesday morning, Rarity made the sign and display for the book club and then went about what was becoming her normal routine. She’d worked as a business analyst at a large corporation before leaving St. Louis, and she’d thought her days were busy then. Owning the bookstore meant no day was the same. She needed to start setting up some systems, though, to get a kind of normal routine.

  Sam Aarons came into the shop with two cups of coffee in her hand. She looked like a Roma gypsy in her flowy skirts and white peasant blouse. Sam believed in dressing for the part. And her long, curly red hair topped off the look. She came up to the counter and handed a cup to Rarity. “Hey, neighbor. How did your book club go last night?”

  “Didn’t your crystals already tell you?” Rarity took a long sip of the coffee. “This is just what I needed. Why is coffee from a shop so much better than what you brew at home?”

  “Because Annie brews it with love. At least that’s what her sign says above the coffee bar. And my crystals don’t tell the future. For that, you need to go to Madame Zelda’s next door. She’d be glad to tell you what’s going to happen in your future. I just give you the gems to protect yourself from bad juju. Like the clear quartz I sent you when you were diagnosed. It’s a master healer stone.”

  Rarity reached up for the necklace she still wore. “I love it. Even if it didn’t cure me.”

  “You of little faith. Anyway, is the fact you have a book display up for the group a good sign? Lots of attendees?”

  Rarity shook her head and held up a finger.

  “Why do you want me to wait?” Sam frowned. “Why can’t you tell me now?”

  When Rarity took a drink rather than answering her question, Sam got the message.

  “You have got to be kidding me. One person showed up? What a waste of time.” Sam nodded to the chairs. “Can we sit for a bit? These boots are new and horribly uncomfortable. My feet will be killing me long before I close the shop today.”

  “What we do for our image. Sorry, of course we can sit.” Rarity crossed over and sat in the same chair she’d occupied last night. “It wasn’t a complete waste of time. The woman who came brought in a big order, so at least there’s that.”

  “Are you doing okay with the store financially? Walk-in traffic will start picking up soon. Summers can be a little slow. People don’t realize it’s not going to be as hot as they think here.”

  Rarity nodded. The business had been slower than she’d hoped, especially since it had taken longer to remodel the building than she’d planned. She’d only been open a few months. “I’ll be fine. Tell me about your date last night. How did it go?”

  “Do I have to?” Sam groaned and then sipped her coffee.

  Rarity giggled. “That bad?”

  “We met at the restaurant in Flagstaff because he couldn’t drive all this way on a work night. Then he was almost an hour late. He was all Brooks Brothers suit and tie. And he insisted on splitting the bill. Just so we wouldn’t feel obligated for anything après dinner.” Sam rolled her shoulders. “I’m never going to find Mr. Right. I should just give up the search.”

  “You’re perfect the way you are, and if there’s a Mr. Right in your future, he’ll find you.” Rarity leaned back. “Or we could ask Madam Zelda.”

  “You are so bad.” Sam leaned her head back and closed her eyes. When she spoke, she let her voice waver, imitating the fortune teller. “You will meet a man where you least expect to meet him. He will be tall, dark, and handsome. Please hand over your credit card for payment.”

  The bell over the door sounded, and Madam Zelda walked into the store.

  Rarity stood, and as she hurried past Sam, she hit her arm to alert her. “Madam Zelda, so nice of you to visit. What can I help you with?”

  Madam Zelda narrowed her eyes and stared at Sam, who was now also standing but by the fireplace. “I came in to see if you had a flyer for your survivors’ club. I have a client who might be interested in some social interaction around the subject matter. She’s very timid, though, and I might not be able to get her to come.”

  “We’re a small group.” Rarity added, of two, silently. She picked up a flyer from the counter, writing the book list on the front. Then she handed it to the fortune teller. “I’m sure she’d enjoy the discussion. These are the five books that we’re considering reading.”

  “Hey, Rarity, I need to go open. I’ll chat with you tonight.” Sam circled around the furniture, and Madam Zelda, and almost ran out of the store.

  “That girl needs to relax. She’s wound up like a clock ready to bust a spring.” Madam Zelda watched Sam through the window as she hurried to open her store. “It’s not healthy to be that anxious.”

  “Sam’s always been a little high-strung.” I nodded to the flyer. “I hope your client decides to visit at least once. Can I have her name?”

  “I do not divulge my client’s information. Surely you can understand the privacy needed for a job like mine.” She tucked the flyer into a pocket on her dress and left the shop.

  Rarity waited for her to disappear out of view of the window before responding. “As if people who visit fortune tellers are expecting privacy like it was their doctor. Things just keep getting weirder here. Maybe that’s just life in Sedona.”

  Rarity didn’t have time to think about Madam Zelda’s privacy policy much that day because she had several customers show up, one after the other. A few took a flyer about the book club, others asked her to order a book for them, and one walked through the bookstore checking out the stock, and just left.