Quinn McCloud's Christmas Bride
Wolf Creek, Montana Mid-September
"Aunt Natasha? Aunt Elizabeth?"
Abigail Foster donned a light sweater and stepped out onto the wide porch, letting the screen door slap shut behind her. Two wicker chairs were pushed back from the white table in the far corner of the porch. An enameled tray and a plate with several sugar cookies sat next to a Wedgwood teapot atop the blue cloth. Lemon slices floated on the surface of amber-colored tea in delicate blue and white cups. Her aunts had obviously been interrupted during their afternoon Earl Grey break and had left the comfortable corner, sheltered by the potato vine that climbed up the trellis.
But where had they gone? Abigail looked up and down the wide street. Down the block, two eight-year-olds rode bicycles, weaving in and out of the autumn leaves collecting in red and gold drifts in the gutters. Two joggers, accompanied by a cocker spaniel tugging on his leash, circled around the boys and kept on going. The rhythm of the neighborhood ticked on as usual. But Abigail didn't see her great-aunts.
She crossed the porch and descended the broad, white-painted steps, following the brick walk ... read full excerpt from: Quinn McCloud's Christmas Bride ebook
