The Keeper's Daughter by Susan X. Meagher

Author:Susan X. Meagher [Meagher, Susan X.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780998790770
Publisher: Brisk Press
Published: 2019-02-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Gillian stepped onto her front porch on the first Saturday in March, a bright morning chilly enough to let her see her breath. Her biking buddies had decided to drive well over an hour to some town that had both hills and what they swore was a good diner. But adding three hours to the outing just for a greasy breakfast didn’t sound like a heck of a lot of fun on a day she had a big party planned—check that. On a day her sister had a big party planned. It was in Gillian’s honor, but she had very little ownership of it, regarding it with as much anticipation as a work dinner. Nevertheless, she had to look good, so she was going to have a manicure and maybe a facial.

First though, she had to get her engine thrumming, and that meant logging some miles. She and her buddies had only been back outdoors for a week, and she was still rustier than she’d anticipated being. Running on the treadmill had been good for her legs and her lungs, but biking taxed her muscles in ways that running didn’t.

Despite her joy at being on her bike, she was grumpy at the prospect of not being able to talk to Torie. She was in Edinburgh, working, and was going to be unavailable for the entire day. That development had knocked the smile off Gillian’s face as thoroughly as a slap would have.

It was silly to be so invested in the sanctity of their weekend chats, but they truly were the highlights of her week. When you were rabidly interested in a woman who lived three thousand six hundred and thirty-four miles away, every opportunity to see her face and hear her voice was a precious one.

After just an hour of riding around town, she was bored. Maybe she was one of those people who needed to be pushed to really put in the effort. But it was almost her birthday, her girlfriend was ridiculously far away, and they weren’t going to see each other for another three months. That was a set of circumstances that only a cinnamon sugar brioche could help relieve. Luckily, she could get one at an Italian Village cafe she loved, and riding there would probably burn off another ten or fifteen calories. The other several hundred she would consume would just have to hang around.

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