Romancing the Gravestone (A Jane Ladling Mystery 1)

Wait. Was she sharing too much? Getting too personal, going too deep? Stop. Pump the breaks.

“Pain is pain,” he said in a gentle tone.

Well, maybe they could delve a little deeper. “Who ended up raising you?”

“The system.” Tension radiated from him. “Your mom isn’t part of your life now?”

The urge to hug him bombarded her. “She is, and she isn’t. When I was three, she relocated to Alabama. She took me with her and tried to be a mother but she struggled. In the end, she shipped me back to Grandma Lily for the summer, and I never left. Now Mom is with a new man and living in Texas with my two half sisters. She calls me sometimes.”

Jane offered the information smoothly, pretending not to care. The total rejection from both parents provided more proof of the curse’s influence. The two people supposed to love her most had always loved her least. Most days she even convinced herself everything had worked out for the best. But sometimes the pain of it all got the better of her, and she wondered what if?

What if her dad had wanted a relationship with her? What if her mom had been less concerned with having fun and more concerned with her little girl’s well-being?

“And your dad?” Conrad asked.

“He’s not a dad to me but a father.” She rubbed a strange tickle at the end of her nose. “He has another family, an ex-wife and three grown sons.” Half brothers she’d met only once. She forced a smile. “And that’s a wrap on the story of Jane Ladling. We should probably concentrate on the case. That is why you’re here, and the weapon is around the next corner.”

He nodded as if he understood that she’d shared enough for one day and reached her limit. They came upon the flowery arch leading to Muffin’s headstone, where Sheriff Moore stood, motioning them over.

Conrad held up a finger, asking for a moment, and stopped with Jane about ten feet away.

Jane had to crane her head to see him past the brim of her hat. A thousand emotions swam in his incredible eyes. Too many to pinpoint a single one.

“Thank you for the escort,” he said as those emotions died, one after the other. Soon his expression blanked. “I’ll meet you at the cottage when I’m done.” He walked away, approaching the sheriff, leaving her behind.

Hello, mixed signals. Sighing, Jane skipped home. Dang. Had the evening grown hotter? When had the moon become such a scorcher?

Fiona hadn’t left the porch. The older woman stood at the rail and wagged a finger in her direction as she approached. “You’re in trouble, hon.”

“Me?” She hiked a thumb at her chest just to be sure.

“You’re poking at a bear’s cage, and he might be a biter, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I do not know what you mean.” What bear? What cage?

“I’m not complaining, mind you. It’s going to be highly entertaining to watch when he bursts through those bars. And he will. It’s only a matter of time now. But you best be careful. I have a feeling you’re gonna be the one with the wounds. There will be scars.”

Foreboding rocked her. But foreboding was an excellent liar. Fear wrapped in a fancy package. So, she swallowed and marched ahead, doubling down. “What are you even talking about right now?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, young lady. Why can’t you see that there’s no such thing as a curse—”

“Nope. Stop. There is.”

“—except the ones we place upon ourselves.”

“Nope. Wrong again.” She would never curse herself. Would she? Had she? No! Some people seemed touched by favor, everyone else by favor repellent. And that was a fact.

“Just remember this. Even the smallest bites can fester. Take your Special Agent Ryan for instance. He can charm like no one’s business when he puts his mind to it. But there’s pain there.”

Wait. Was Conrad the bear in this analogy? “No one’s biting anyone, Fee.” Maybe? Probably? Why did her heart race at the thought?

“Are you sure? Because he’s turned down my blueberry pancakes. Twice! That’s two strikes against him. One more strike, and I’ll erase him from my list of eligible suitors and never set him up with anyone ever again!”

Um… “How many strikes do I have, and what can I do to earn the third?”

“Oh, you hush. You just mind your heart, you hear me, young lady?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m on guard duty twenty-four seven, trust me. Now start talking and tell me everything you and Conrad discussed in secret.” Jane raced up the porch steps, determined to launch a full interrogation. Everything from his tones to his body language and his expressions. Had he executed any side glances? A—

Jane sneezed. Then she sneezed again. And again. The sneezing went on forever and a day.