Memaws and Murder: A Witches of Keyhole Lake Mystery (Witches of Keyhole Lake Mysteries Book 18) by Tegan Maher

Author:Tegan Maher [Maher, Tegan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Magical Words Publishing
Published: 2024-09-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Thirteen

The gravel crunched beneath the tires of Hunter's truck as we rolled through the picturesque countryside toward Lorraine's farmhouse. I fiddled with the edge of my sleeve, still feeling the ghostly brush of lace from the dress fitting. "You know, that locket’s like something out of a Gothic novel, all mysterious and ornate."

"Any idea who's in the photos?" Hunter asked, his voice as steady as his hands on the wheel.

I shook my head. "Not a clue. But they've gotta be important for Maude to keep 'em hidden away like that."

We rounded the last bend, and there it was—Lorraine's small, lovingly cared-for farmhouse. It sat nestled between fields that stretched out like a green sea of corn, the house itself a beacon of homeliness with its wraparound porch. Vibrant flowers cascaded from hanging baskets, their colors so vivid they nearly glowed against the white of the porch rails.

"Looks like she’s going for Yard of the Year, too," I said with a chuckle, admiring the meticulous lawn as Hunter parked the truck.

"Wouldn't surprise me if she grew those herself," he replied.

Just as we stepped onto the porch, the front door swung open, revealing Lorraine, her gray hair wound up into a tight bun that seemed to defy gravity itself. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled, every bit the image of a southern grandmother.

"Y'all just made it in time for some sweet tea and fresh cookies," Lorraine said warmly, ushering us into the heart of her home.

"I wouldn’t turn down homemade cookies for the world," I responded. You’d think with as much baking as I did, I’d be sick of cookies, but it was nice to savor somebody else’s hard work sometimes.

The scent of just-baked treats filled the air, mingling with the subtle hints of rosemary and thyme from a well-used kitchen. We followed her lead into the dining room, where the afternoon sun streamed through lace curtains, casting dappled shadows on the polished wood table.

"Have a seat," Lorraine insisted, pulling out chairs for us with an energy that belied her age. "I'll get the tea. You two look like you could use a cold glass."

"Thanks, Lorraine," Hunter said, easing into his chair with a grateful nod.

I settled beside him, taking in the warm, lived-in feel of the place. It was comfortable, the sort of home that held decades of memories within its walls. And as Lorraine returned with a tray laden with a tea pitcher and a plate of golden-brown chocolate chip cookies, I couldn't help but think how this cozy setting seemed worlds away from the dark secrets and whispered rumors swirling around Keyhole Lake.

"Help yourselves." Lorraine gestured to the cookies, and I didn't need to be told twice. I reached for one, biting into the crumbly sweetness as the mystery of the locket—and the woman who used to wear it—lingered in the back of my mind.

Lorraine chuckled, a self-deprecating sound that cut through the stillness of her dining room. "Would you believe I bake every week? But that one potluck day, I just couldn't manage it.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.