Murder at the Snowed Inn by Imogen Plimp

Author:Imogen Plimp [Plimp, Imogen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Murder for All Seasons Publishing
Published: 2020-05-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

To be honest, I had agreed to Al’s terms about not approaching Dale Duke regarding the death of his wife under extenuating circumstances. We had both had a couple of drinks—she was feeling protective, and I was feeling agreeable. But in the sober light of day, I simply couldn’t see how I couldn’t talk to Dale.

It was Friday morning. I had just made a batch of banana nut muffins from scratch—one of Al’s favorite recipes. She had to run off to work, but she kissed me goodbye and promised to come out to see the Galway house soon. Rupert and I took a brief stroll around the block, then I grabbed a muffin and coffee to go—and we were headed back to our makeshift Appalachian paradise.

As I entered Warren County, a radio report began rambling on about a pending winter storm warning. Apparently, a system was headed our way from all the way out in the Pacific. It was due to arrive Monday or Tuesday and dump up to two feet of snow in the higher elevations, which included Galway. My first blizzard as an official Appalachian resident. I was giddy—like a little kid before a snow day (obvious, I know). Ray was right about the coming weather, too, I thought.

Oh, Ray! I hadn’t yet had the time to stop and think about Ray, to unpack what had happened on Tuesday before I’d skipped town. Why had I been acting so strangely around him? Was it the cowboy thing? Or the repairman thing? Thus dredging up the predictable damsel in distress archetype from the collective feminine deep… Or was it possible I might actually have feelings for him? Of course not, I barely knew the man… But feelings don’t need reasons. Did I have my first crush since George’s death? But then I fell down the rabbit hole of thinking about George’s death all over again...

And then there was Henry. I hadn’t thought about Henry at all since our last run-in at the Galway Inn—not until Emma had reminded me of him. I did feel little butterflies in Henry’s company, and I hadn’t had any chance to speak with him apart from our brief re-introduction, which was a flop, to put it mildly. In that particular moment in the Inn’s restaurant, I had taken solace in comparing him to George, but I knew I couldn’t do that to every man I ever met, forever. And yet—if I attempted to extricate guilt from the equation—how could I be developing feelings for two men? as Al had suggested.

Oh, God! Al!… I thought with a tinge of panic. My daughter—George’s daughter. How would it make her feel if I started seeing someone else? She seemed fine with it during cocktail hour, but we had just been joking around. Maybe she had just been “playing it cool,” taking it in stride in an effort to be supportive of her poor mom. I would have to talk to her about it…

In the meantime, take it one day at a time, I reminded myself.

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