When lost love shows up on your doorstep, what do you do? Minnie Schultz slams the door in his face. She and Gordon Anderson have a history—close to ancient history, given the fifty years since their last encounter. After all that time, it might seem like water under the bridge. But the water pours from the plumbing in Minnie’s bed and breakfast, the Lilac Bower, uncovering all the secrets and heartache between them. With the help of some paranormal investigators, an Elvis impersonator and a couple of nosey friends, can Minnie and Gordon find the future they were meant to have?
As Minnie was adjusting the placement of an eyebrow the
little girl had stuck partially across the nose, the doorbell rang. “Be
right back.” Minnie patted her on the shoulder and headed for the
door. She did a quick check in the hall mirror to make sure the
autumn wind hadn’t restyled her ivory curls. One should always
put on her best face when meeting potential customers. She
feathered an errant lock back into place. It was mid--‐‑week, so walk--‐‑
ins would be rare, but all her rooms were available—except the one
with the leaky tub.
Minnie opened the door, ready to say, “Welcome to the Lilac
Bower,” but stopped before she made it to the second syllable. She
clapped her mouth shut and slammed the door. The crash wasn’t
loud enough. Nor did it rattle the plastic skeleton hanging on the
back of the door. She was tempted to open it and really give it a
good swing, but that would mean setting eyes on a man she didn’t
care to ever see again. Five decades hadn’t been long enough.
The doorbell rang again, and Minnie wondered if she could
disconnect it. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Mark
had warned her about playing with wires—or was it only the fuse
box? She couldn’t remember. Either way, it’d take too long.
How long could she stall? Maybe he’d go away. Back to
whatever prairie dog hill he’d hid in for the last fifty years and stay
Fifty years? It couldn’t be so long, but a quick look at the
math confirmed it. Seeing him again made it all feel like yesterday.
He rang the doorbell again, this time following it with an
“Open the door, G’ma?” Wendy trotted down the hallway
with an eyeball stuck to her cheek. “I do it. I help.” She reached for
the door. It came open an inch, then she lost her grip and the door
“It’s just—” and then words failed her. It wouldn’t matter to
Wendy who he was. And Wendy would throw a temper tantrum if
she tried to hold the door shut. Minnie supposed she couldn’t let
him stand out there forever, as much as she’d like to. The sooner
she opened the door, the sooner she could send him on his way.
She reached for the handle, but Wendy elbowed her out of
the way. “I do it!” She yanked on the door, and Minnie hopped
back as it swung on its hinges. It threatened to bounce back and
clip Wendy, but Minnie caught it in time. She appreciated Wendy’s
determination—even if they weren’t directly related, the little girl
had a lot of her great--‐‑aunt in her.
Gordon had taken off his fedora and dangled it from his
fingertips. His hair hadn’t gone as white as Minnie’s had. Some of
the original chocolate brown showed through the silver. She’d holdthat against him as well.
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