Chapter One
The Forsyth family, which only consisted of Lang, Larissa, and Mirabelle, was gathered in the breakfast nook. The house on Conant Drive had been remodeled a couple of times, but the breakfast nook had remained the same. That day’s family meeting was all about Larissa Forsyth, thirty-two years old and desperately in need of advice—or, rather, confirmation that she was doing the right thing. She was the oldest daughter of Langford and big sister to Mirabelle Garcia. Larissa had asked the two people closest to her to advise her on what to do with the rest of her life.
Mirabelle arrived last and had brought muffins to go with the coffee Larissa had already brewed. She dressed like the stay-at-home mother that she was. Mirabelle had on jeans without holes, a white T-shirt, gray cardigan, and spotless slip-on sneakers. “Today called for some special muffins, so I had Joe whip these up,” Mirabelle said as she took the plastic wrap off the breakfast treats made by her husband, Joe. “We have two kinds, blueberry and bran.”
Larissa and her dad went for the less healthy, but better for stress-eating blueberry muffins. “I’m sure Joe makes fabulous bran muffins, but he needn’t bother.” Larissa took a huge bite and continued to talk with her mouth full. “Any fruit muffin he makes is out of this world. Taffy ends up eating the bran and, well, that doesn’t agree with her digestive system,” she said, referring to her ten-year-old black lab. The dog had a weight problem because everyone secretly gave her treats, since she was so darn cute. Taffy looked at humans who held food with a face that could melt an iceberg.
The Forsyth home in Sudbury, Massachusetts had a dining room table, den, and living room, all that could have accommodated their get-together. However, it was tradition to cram into the nook. It featured a window to the yard, which had not yet woken up from its winter slumber. Crocuses and snowdrops were hints of things to come in the garden, which the late matriarch of the family, Maxi Forsyth, had carefully designed. Hyacinth and tulip bulbs came up in early April, and then it seemed like something new bloomed every week. There were daisies, purple irises, lavender, and a marble fountain in the center.
The breakfast nook was where Larissa’s parents had sat the girls down to tell them that Maxi had cancer. Larissa was ten and Mirabelle eight. It would be a long four years of hospital visits, surgeries, and chemotherapy before Maxi lost her battle with the disease. Lang and the girls had forged a strong bond in those years, and it was inevitable that they were all thinking of Mom when they sat in the nook. No one brought it up, because they didn’t have to.
“Mirabelle, be sure to thank Joe for the muffins. Answer me this—do you ever cook?” Larissa asked her sister jokingly.
“No, but I don’t have to,” Mirabelle said defensively. “Joe brings full meals home from Passion Fish and I heat them up for dinner the next night. It’s one of the perks of being married to a restaurant owner. And I do plenty of other things to make up for it. Being a soccer mom is hard work, and I have yet to miss a practice or game. I’m not a good cook and Joe is an excellent chef, so it makes sense.”
“I was just giving you a hard time. You make it all look easy and you’re a great mom,” Larissa said. She swallowed her last bite of muffin and brushed the crumbs from her hands. “Let’s get down to it. I need the two of you to tell me I’m not a lunatic for upending my life and moving to Henley.”
Before anyone was able to comment, Mirabelle’s phone rang. There was a conflict between Marta and Louis that required her attention. The kids, eight and nine respectively, were at home with Joe, and he was apparently at his wit’s end. “Before you crown me the mother of the year, Larissa, let’s see if I’m able to defuse this situation. I’ll Facetime them in the den and rejoin the two of you in a bit.” She left for the den with a big mug of coffee.
With Mirabelle gone, Larissa had a chance to have a heart to heart with her father about her plans. She intended to move to the small town of Henley on Cape Cod and become the proprietor of the Salt Rose Inn, a bed and breakfast. She had recently inherited the property from her beloved grandmother, Dolly Maxwell. Larissa folded her hands and focused her big blue eyes on her father. His wife’s death had increased the creases on his face and added some extra gray to his hair. Despite that, Lang was a fit man of fifty-six with a lot of living yet to do. His long-time lady friend Dee had stood patiently by as Lang continued his ten-and-a-half-year mourning period.
Lang laughed. “You’re looking to me for answers, Larissa, and I’m pretty sure you’ve already made up your mind. If it’s confirmation you’re looking for, you’ve got it,” Larissa’s dad covered her hands with his. “You’ve always been fiercely independent and unafraid to take on new challenges. When your mother died, you stepped into the role of lady of the house, and you were only fourteen. You created a spreadsheet to track household expenses and made a chore chart—things your mother didn’t even do. Most importantly, you did it all with a smile. There were times I was overcome with grief and self-pity, and you never failed to take a moment to make sure I’d be okay.” Larissa’s father had always said the right things at the right time.
“Sometimes I wonder if Grandma Dolly knew what she was doing when she left me the inn,” Larissa said, clearly looking for reassurance.
Lang smiled. “Dolly knew exactly what she was doing. She saw the way you thrived in Henley. You and Cape Cod are a perfect fit, have been since you were a young girl. Your mom and I would take you down for August and we hardly saw you. You were either kayaking, sunbathing, or fishing from the dock.” Lang had brought an album to the table and began to flip through the photographs. “Look at you and Mirabelle, tan and full of mischief. Those were some great times, and you have a chance to create new memories there. Think of the families that will stay at the inn with young children seeking adventure—you’ll be able to point them in the right direction. Grandma Dolly wanted to leave the Salt Rose Inn to someone who loved it as much as she did. That’s you, Larissa.”
Larissa smiled as she looked over the pictures. The most special ones featured her mother before she was sick—carefree and vibrant. Maxi Forsyth had brown hair and round blue eyes, just like her two daughters. “There was a time I thought you and Mom would inherit the inn.” Larissa brushed away a tear. “I thought I would become a lawyer, like you, but that wasn’t in the cards. My internship with the prosecutor’s office included working with Detective Ranch with the police department, but then I fell into advertising and I always thought that was what I was meant to be doing.”
“Things turned out different. Dolly would have left the inn to your mother and I would have quit my job. We would have lived happily ever after on Cape Cod, but your mother’s gone. Dolly loved living there for fifty years and she wanted you to carry on her legacy.”
“What about Mirabelle? Why not her?” Larissa asked.
“Your sister is married to Joe and they have the restaurant. Marta and Louis love their school and they’re happy in Sudbury. Uprooting them would be unfair, and Joe would never leave Passion Fish. Mirabelle received her share of the inheritance,” Lang said as he broke off a piece of the bran muffin and fed it to Taffy. Larissa shot him a look as he fed the dog. “I know, I just can’t say no to those puppy dog eyes.”
“I have a life in Boston that I’ll be giving up,” Larissa said.
“You have a job in Boston,” Lang corrected her. “In Henley, you’ll be able to create a life you love. Sorry to be blunt, sweetie, but it’s true. You work, shop, and sleep—in my estimation, that’s no life.” Lang looked up and saw Mirabelle walking back into the kitchen as she shoved her phone into her back pocket. “I’m going to walk Taffy around the block.” He looked up at Mirabelle. “Your turn to convince your sister that she’s doing the right thing.” He smiled.
Lang got up and Mirabelle took his spot. Before leaving, he refilled their coffee mugs.
Mirabelle placed her elbows on the table and cradled her chin. “Did Dad convince you that going to Henley is the right thing to do? There should be nothing holding you back from marching into Attia, Fink, and Kroger on Monday and telling them you’re leaving.
Mirabelle had brought up the hardest part of leaving Boston—Larissa’s job. Larissa had started at Attia and Fink before Kroger was added. She had a college degree but no advertising experience, so she had started as a receptionist. From there, Larissa had climbed the ladder, which took a lot of determination and a stellar work ethic. She made six figures as an account manager and she liked the lifestyle that money made possible. Leaving would not be an easy decision for Larissa to make.
“What if I leave Attia, Fink, and Kroger and the Salt Rose Inn doesn’t make it? I’d have to start all over again with a different firm, if finding a job is even possible.” Larissa took a sip from her initialed mug. “Then, there’s Dad. I won’t be able to come to visit as often if I move to Henley. I’ve been coming up to four times per week to check on him.”
“Larissa, stop worrying about obstacles that don’t exist. Grandma and Grandpa weren’t exactly savvy business folks and they kept the place running for 50 years. It won’t go out of business under your stewardship.” Mirabelle was making sense. “As far as not finding another job if the worst happens, give me a break. Among your clients is Paisley, Inc., and the CEO, Lance Bottomsmith, is a personal friend. You have serious credentials to your name. As far as Dad goes, he’s 56, not 96. I live a mile away, so I’ve got it covered. Are you hearing me?” Mirabelle asked.
“I can tell you were just talking to your kids.” Larissa chuckled. “You hardly ever talk to me like that, and you’re right. I am making up problems that don’t exist. I can’t do this alone—will you be there as a sounding board when I need one?” Larissa asked.
“Of course. Me and the vast network of friends you have here in Sudbury and Henley. Speaking of friends, is Henry up to date on your plans?” Mirabelle asked.
“Yes, since when is Henry Gallagher not up to date? He knows every move I make before I make it.”
Larissa’s father walked in with Taffy after their quick walk. “Have you girls solved all the world’s problems?”
Larissa stood up and hung her arm around her dad’s shoulder. She was nearly as tall as him with her high-heeled boots. Larissa never dressed down, even on Sunday at Dad’s house. “Yes—as always, I found the answers I was looking for with my two favorite people. I’ll go in tomorrow and talk to Kevin Attia. He’s like a grandfather to me and I’m sure he’ll be happy about my new adventure.”
“Nothing stands in your way now, Sis.” Mirabelle joined in for a three-way hug. “As long as the ghosts don’t get you. Dolly swore that place was haunted!”
“I wish you hadn’t mentioned that.”
Larissa didn’t believe that the Salt Rose Inn was haunted and hated that Grandma Dolly had perpetuated the rumor. The Salt Rose Inn had been built as a private residence by a sea captain 100 years earlier, and his wife had supposedly died in the cupola of a broken heart. She’d thought he was lost as sea, but he had just been delayed by bad weather.
Larissa hoped that was the last she heard of ghosts and haunting.
Chapter Two
Larissa’s co-workers took her to lunch at Martinique on her last day. It was her favorite Caribbean food spot that was close to the office. The three head honchos had decided not to join, but made sure to pay for the meal. It was only the people who had showed up every day and did the hard work that made the partners a ton of money. It was fun and casual, with a lot of laughs and a few tears.
Joni had been a rung higher on the ladder when Larissa started at Attia and Fink. “Larissa, why is it that you occupy an office and I’m floundering in a cubicle?” she asked.
“I think it has something to do with the four maternity leaves you had. I worked twice as much as you because you were never around,” Larissa laughed. “Having an office is overrated, and who knows what will happen to mine. It might be yours someday.”
“I’m going to miss you. You gave the best parenting advice and you don’t even have kids,” Joni said as she got out of her chair to hug Larissa.
Kay from accounting paid the bill and they walked back to the office. Larissa wanted to speak with her friend and colleague Trace Atkinson, but he had to run ahead for a meeting. She would stop by and say a personal goodbye, because Larissa had developed a special bond with Trace. Larissa chatted with men and women from the administrative pool on the quarter-mile walk back down Boylston Street. They were some of the people who had helped put together her presentations; they had saved her from missing deadlines on many occasions.
Larissa walked through the doors of Attia, Fink, and Kroger for the last time as an employee. A few boxes of personal items had to be packed before her office would be cleared out. Larissa had been taking things home for a month already, and it amazed her how much she had accumulated in ten years. It didn’t make much sense bringing things back to her condo, because most of them belonged in the dump. She’d ended up tagging some items for charity, while others were sent to the garbage.
She looked at the bare walls and empty shelves when she realized it was time for final goodbyes—no more excuses. Larissa walked down the hallway to the corner office and in the open door. “Kevin, this is it.”
“Larissa, come in and close the door. I’ve been dreading this farewell,” he said in a cracked voice. “I was thinking maybe if I skipped saying goodbye, you wouldn’t leave. The firm and I are going to miss you. But, having said that, I’m thrilled for you. Living full-time on Cape Cod will be blissful.” Kevin Attia walked from behind his desk and sat on the chair next to Larissa. “We’ll see plenty of each other. Wendy is going to become a frequent guest at the Salt Rose Inn.”
“You and your wife will be welcome guests. I hope to see you at the friends and family event—I’ll send you an official invite,” Larissa said. “Kevin, you gave me so many opportunities here. I’ve lost count, but by far the greatest was the meeting you set up with me and Paisley. I wasn’t even an account manager yet, but you gave me a chance.”
“You hit that one out of the park. Lance Bottomsmith was about to take his business elsewhere until you delivered your pitch,” Kevin leaned back and crossed his long legs. They creaked, which was the only thing that gave away his 69 years. “If you need anything after you walk out of this building, call me. I sent an unsolicited letter of recommendation to your home along with a digital copy, but anything else, I expect a call.”
“Thank you, Kevin,” Larissa said. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to cry. It was a challenge, but she managed.
“No, Larissa, thank you. Wendy is grateful, as well, because you helped keep me in line for the past ten years,” Kevin joked.
Larissa initiated a hug goodbye, then walked out the door and toward Sean’s office, which was on the opposite end of the hallway. They had both scored corner offices. As she clicked along in her $400 two-inch heels, she realized it was one of the final times she would be dressing for success. Structured suits with accessories to match would not be appropriate for an inn on the Cape.
Larissa’s meeting with Sean was less personal than her goodbye with Kevin, but just as pleasant. Sean was five-foot-eight and bald as a cue. He was single and made extra sure to keep a safe distance from the women in the office. He’d heard whispers about Duncan Kroger, the third partner, being handsy with the ladies. Sean wasn’t like that at all, and he wasted time worrying that a woman might have accused him of impropriety. Sean told Larissa to keep an eye out for something extra in her final paycheck. He joked that it was a bribe to have a guest room named in his honor.
As Larissa was leaving Sean’s office, he stopped her—he didn’t want to let her go without commenting on his fellow partner, Duncan Kroger.
“Larissa, I know your reason for leaving is clear. You have a great opportunity in Henley with the Salt Rose Inn. However, I hope that’s the only reason for your departure. Duncan has never been easy to work with, and I know you two had some difficulties,” Sean said.
“I came to terms with Duncan years ago, Sean. He doesn’t bother me anymore because I let him know I wasn’t to be toyed with. He dances around what’s appropriate, but I’ve gotten used to it. I always knew that you and Kevin had my back and that helped immeasurably. I was not about to be run out of this firm by someone like Duncan,” Larissa said as she shrugged her shoulders. “You can do me a favor, though.”
“Anything I can do, just ask.”
“Keep an eye out for the other women here at Attia, Fink, and Kroger. I’m tough, but not everyone is,” Larissa advised.
“Consider it done,” Sean said with confidence. He walked Larissa to his office door.
Larissa took the elevator down one floor to Duncan Kroger’s office. This particular farewell was different from the rest, because it was Duncan and he was the polar opposite of Kevin and Sean. Duncan had a reputation that no one else wanted, but he didn’t seem to care. Duncan was made of Teflon and no accusations or the negative effects of his reputation had stuck. Duncan had been out of line once with Larissa, and she’d let him know he had crossed the line. A properly-placed knee had sent a clear message to Duncan, and it wasn’t something either one of them brought up again. He gained a few pounds every year, as many men did in their mid-fifties. His hair was yellowish blonde and gray around the temples. It looked like he colored his own hair but missed a few spots.
Duncan Kroger’s name had been added to the wall after Larissa had started as the receptionist for Attia and Fink. His father was very well-connected in the Boston advertising business and now the state senate, which had a lot to do with Duncan becoming a named partner.
Larissa had arrived at Duncan’s closed door in the center of the hallway. He had been forced to wait for a corner office upstairs, and Sean was doing his best to make sure he never got one. There was a corner office being remodeled for him, but Sean kept requesting changes, which resulted in delays.
Larissa knocked.
“Come in, Larissa,” Duncan called from behind the closed door.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I know the sound you make as you walk down the hallway,” Duncan answered.
“I’m leaving and I stopped to let you know that I’m grateful for the opportunities I received at Attia, Fink, and Kroger,” Larissa said. It was intentional that she didn’t thank Duncan specifically. He already thought he was responsible for her rise among the ranks at the firm.
“I remember the day clearly when I shined the light on your potential. Do you recall that day?” he asked.
“I do but, unfortunately, my time is short, and I don’t have time to walk down memory lane. I’ll see you next month in Henley at the Salt Rose Inn. You mentioned you’re going to stay the night, so I’ll be sure to save you a room,” Larissa said.
“I look forward to getting the invite,” Duncan said. “Lance Bottomsmith with Paisley called this morning. He gave me the disturbing news that he’s considering not using Attia, Fink, and Kroger in the upcoming fiscal year. That was our baby, Larissa, and I hope you didn’t say anything to Lance on the way out,” Duncan said. His ruddy complexion was turning red.
“Excuse me, Duncan, but Kevin and I have been working with Lance from the beginning. Things were only recently shuffled around. Leaving is Lance Bottomsmith’s prerogative, and I had nothing to do with it. It’s not as if I’m taking his business with me—I’m not secretly running an advertising firm from the bed and breakfast,” Larissa said glibly.
“Well, not much I can do about it. I’m used to being slighted around here. I just didn’t expect it from you,” Duncan said.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. Good luck. It’s almost five, so I have to run and catch Trace Atkinson before he leaves.”
Larissa exited without even having to sit down. Her last stop was down another floor to see Trace Atkinson. The third floor was graphic design, and Trace ran that operation. She walked off the elevator and the energy hit her in the face. The vibe Trace created in his department was undeniable and was envied throughout the firm. High energy came from the top down, so it showed what type of guy Trace was.
“Boo.” Trace approached Larissa from behind and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “I was hoping you’d stop by before leaving this place for good,” Trace said. “Better get used to being scared, I heard the Salt Rose Inn is haunted.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Larissa asked.
“My aunt was recently in Henley. She stayed at the Seascape Inn because your place was closed, of course. Apparently, the owner of the Seascape knows all about the history of Henley and says she believes the rumor is true,” Trace said as he led Larissa to his office. “Do you believe in ghosts, McBride?” Trace asked with a smile.
“I do not, and I hope ghost hunters don’t think they can come to my bed and breakfast and set up shop,” Larissa said as she pulled her hands through her chestnut hair.
“Larissa, I looked the place up and you have nothing to worry about. The house sells itself with the gardens, cupola, and Victorian design. How much does it cost to heat a place like that?” Trace asked.
“Trace! You’re my final goodbye because I was sure you’d cheer me up. Now I won’t sleep because I’ll be worrying about the heating bill.” Larissa jokingly jabbed Trace on the arm.
“Ah, no, don’t worry. The place has a few chimneys—light a fire. I’m sure that’ll do the trick.”
“I’m not so sure I want you to come for friends and family weekend,” Larissa said with a smile.
Trace had been a copy operator when Larissa was a receptionist. They had a similar trajectory in the firm, although they did very different things. Trace knew Larissa like a sister—the good and the bad. They’d both wanted to quit half a dozen times in the first couple of years, and they would have if they hadn’t had each other.
They chatted for more than a half-hour before Larissa left for a date she had with Henry. She was running late, which was often the case when she was meeting Henry. He tolerated the behavior, so she had no reason to change it. It wasn’t a romantic date—they had transitioned to a platonic relationship after they’d ended their engagement.
“I’ll see you next month. I’m relying on you to keep me up to date on the goings-on at Attia, Fink, and Kroger,” Larissa said. She gave her friend a warm embrace and kissed him on the cheek.
***
Larissa’s condominium in Boston’s South End was a short walk from the office but she had driven that morning. She had too much to carry home, and there was plenty of room in her new vehicle. Larissa had traded in her black sports car for a Subaru Forester, which better suited her new lifestyle. It was a major downgrade, though, and Larissa feared that there were more downgrades to come.
Her day ended on a positive note when she snagged a parking spot in front of her place. For eight years, Larissa had lived in a brownstone that had been converted into three condominium units. Hers was on the top floor, accessible by elevator. The lift was made to look old-school, with a cage door that needed to be pulled open. Larissa liked that kind of attention to detail, and it was all over her building. Heavy brass doorknobs and light fixtures that looked they were from the 1920s were only a couple of the retro features. High-tech elements were everywhere, too, but they had been subtly hidden so as not to take away from the character.
A note had been slipped under Larissa’s door. It was from Henry, telling her he’d stopped by early and waited but had an emergency at the hospital. He promised to see Larissa at Passion Fish for her farewell brunch. Her family had made plans, and that included Henry. They had broken up for many reasons, but their fondness for one another hadn’t been one of them.
Larissa kicked off her fancy shoes and eyed the box containing her sandals. She’d be wearing them from now on. She already had six pairs—wedges, strappy, flip flops, and the like. It was another change, but not really a downgrade because her feet were happier.
Larissa was happy her day of farewells was over. She felt satisfied and would have watched something mindless on television, but the cable had been turned off. She’d just poured herself a glass of red wine when her phone chimed. Larissa assumed it was Henry, following up his note with an apology.
“Unknown caller” popped up on her screen, but she answered it anyway. “Hello, this is Larissa.”
There was no response, but no hang up, either. Larissa waited and continued asking for a response. None came. She heard very little.
“I’m hanging up now. You must have the wrong number; don’t call back.”
Larissa placed her phone on the table and continued drinking her wine.
Chapter Three
Larissa pulled into the parking lot of Passion Fish, owned and operated by her brother-in-law Joe Garcia. The restaurant itself was a stand-alone structure, modern and very plain. The signage had been commissioned by a Portuguese artist and allowed to stand out against the stark structure. It was a hand-blown glass fish with green, aqua, and gold scales.
Mirabelle had met Joe when she was a freshman at Carver College, and he was a senior at Boston College. He was drafted into the NFL and they got married within a year of meeting. The early marriage had sent Lang Forsyth into a tailspin, at first. Soon, Joe had proven himself to be an outstanding son-in-law, and there was no denying how much Mirabelle and Joe loved one another. An injury had brought them home to the Boston area and eventually Sudbury, where Joe opened Passion Fish.
Larissa climbed down from her new rig, which seemed miles off the ground compared to the sportscar that she had traded away. Before her foot hit the ground, she was smothered by Mirabelle’s children, Marta and Louis.
“Hola Auntie Larissa!” Marta’s golden hair, olive skin, and blue eyes were unique and stunning. Her looks made her seem like a child model, but she was a tomboy at heart. Marta wasn’t unlike Mirabelle and Larissa at that age.
“We can’t wait to visit you in Henley,” Louis said. He wanted to be a football player like his dad, but his parents had hoped for a safer sport. “Is it true that there are ghosts at the inn? Do you think Great-Grandma Dolly will visit us?”
“No, Louis, that’s just a tale like Hansel and Gretel or Goldilocks. There will be no such thing at the Salt Rose Inn. You watch too much TV,” Larissa said as she rubbed his brown crew-cut.
Joe had reserved a private room in the restaurant for Larissa’s farewell brunch. The restaurant wasn’t an homage to his days in the NFL, but in the private dining room, he had a few framed photos and jerseys from his playing days. Passion Fish featured fusion cuisine, which gave a nod to his Mexican heritage, blended with his mother’s Portuguese side of the family. Joe was born in Boston, but he had an abuela from Central Mexico. Her influence could be felt across the menu.
Larissa walked in and the first people she saw were her best friend Hayley and Henry. They were getting a drink at the bar before even entering the private room—typical. Henry’s flame-red hair made him immediately identifiable.
“The two of you are jumping the gun. I’m sure drink orders will be taken at brunch,” Larissa joked.
“I’m celebrating because I’m getting my play-buddy back,” Hayley said. “That firm was taking over your life and making you hopelessly boring, which brings me to my big exciting news.”
Hayley could no longer surprise Larissa. They had been friends since kindergarten, and she was impulsive but also loyal and well-meaning. Larissa was afraid to ask. “What is your surprise, Hayley?”
“I’m moving to Henley, too. I found a rental and I have a job at Frothy as soon as the season gets started! Dylan and I went down last week and he’s super excited. Henley is a ten-year-old boy’s dream. We’ve been stuck in neutral since the divorce, and I need to shake things up.” Hayley waited for a reaction. She had a resting 1000-watt smile—there was no one like her. Her positive attitude was infectious, and Larissa couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Her divorce from David had sidelined her for a short while, but she had handled it with grace and bounced back.
“There’s no downside to that plan. Does this mean I get free lattes? Frothy does have the best in town.” Larissa threw her arms around her plump and adorable friend.
Henry stood by, amused and impressed by their lasting friendship. When he was engaged to Larissa, he’d realized a life with her meant accepting Hayley, as well. That was never difficult, because Hayley was a force of good nature.
“Juliet Santoro helped me get the job and directed me toward the rental, also. It will be fun to hang out with her again,” Hayley mentioned. Hayley was in Henley a lot in the summer as Larissa’s guest—so much so that she was known around the town as the third Forsyth sister.
“I know. There are Sara, Kitty, and Sadie, too. They all ended up full-time Henley residents, and it’ll be good to renew those friendships.” Larissa put her arm around Henry, a gesture of friendship that was a holdover from when they were engaged.
Henry brought up one of Hayley’s few sensitive spots. “Hayley, have you gotten over the falling out you had with Sadie Farrell?”
The conversation quieted. “It started as a teenage jealousy thing—I was afraid she was taking away my best friend. I guess that part of it is resolved, but I can’t say we’re friends or ever will be. There is something up with that girl and I can’t put my finger on it,” Hayley said with an uncharacteristic frown. “It’s strange because, you know me, I like everyone—even those I shouldn’t.”
“It’s okay, Hayley. I still love you.” Henry touched his cocktail glass to hers.
“Let’s join the others, shall we?” Larissa walked into the private dining room and joined her family and friends.
The kids had made a banner wishing Larissa good luck in her new adventure and had set a festive table. It was more special because she knew Marta and Louis were in charge of decorations. They had scattered seashells on the table and made place cards that were written in their juvenile scrawl. Mrs. Webster, who was a dear friend of Larissa’s mother before she passed, had arranged an ornate centerpiece. She was the president of the local gardening club and was known to grow just about anything in her greenhouse.
They feasted on smoked trout and oysters, which Joe specialized in making. The dip he served them with was a secret family recipe that he had never shared. Gourmet food distributors had approached him to mass-produce it, but he had refused despite their generous offers. Joe relied on seafood for many of his dishes since he grew up on the water.
“How are you holding up, Larissa?” Henry asked. The brunch was winding down and everyone was up and milling about before they left. “You have a lot of people who care about you that think this is a great opportunity. If you ever need help, you have plenty of support. I hope you know, I’m your biggest supporter,” he added with a smile and a nudge. “The way my schedule is set for next year, I’ll have plenty of time to spend in Henley. I have a ton of research hours that are more flexible than those I have while I’m on the floor.”
“I often ask myself what in the heck did I do deserve a friend like you?” Larissa leaned in. “I hoped we could remain friends after I broke off the engagement, but I didn’t plan for this.
“I told you my life would calm down someday,” Henry said. “Medical school and residency were necessary to get me where I am today, and they were worth it. Now, I’m ready to focus on my personal life.” Henry paused and looked deeply into Larissa’s round blue eyes. “That was a hint, Larissa.”
“Are you really going to make me talk about us now?” Larissa asked incredulously. “The timing isn’t right, Henry. Think of opening the bed and breakfast as my medical school and improving it over the next couple of years my residency.”
“I asked for your patience years ago, and now you’re asking for it from me. I have no choice but to provide it, friend.” Henry smirked and kissed Larissa sweetly on the cheek.
Henry and Larissa were interrupted by Mirabelle—one might say they were saved by the bell. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You are, but the timing is right.” Larissa smiled.
“That’s my cue to leave.” Henry chuckled. “Call me when you get to Henley. I’ve got to get back to the hospital.” Henry walked to the door and thanked Lang Forsyth for brunch on the way out.
“I have to Henry give credit for hanging in there all these years,” Mirabelle said.
“I was the one hanging in there while he pursued his career. Now, it’s his turn. Don’t try to figure us out, Mirabelle, it’s impossible,” Larissa said.
Larissa wore black skinny jeans and a black silk top. It was her attempt at dressing casual, but she had failed when it came to footwear. Her red heels gave Larissa the extra couple of inches she had grown accustomed to. In sneakers or flats, she felt like a troll.
“I trust the two of you will figure something out. Henry isn’t going anywhere—that, I know for sure. Are you still planning to head down to the Cape this evening?” Mirabelle asked.
“I am. I’ll be back to check on my place, but most of my stuff has been packed or sent on down to Henley,” Larissa said as she popped a sugar-frosted grape in her mouth. “I’m leaving behind most of my furniture because it’s being sold with the place and the apartment is being staged next week. Driving down tonight makes sense because I won’t have to deal with Monday morning traffic.”
Mirabelle shook her head. “It’s not the traffic, Larissa. Who goes to the Cape on Monday morning? I get it; you want to escape while you have the nerve.”
“You have that part right. I don’t have the desire to stay in my condo because my personal things are gone, and it feels like a hotel. I had it cleaned, and it smells like a doctor’s office mixed with cheap perfume,” Larissa said. She nearly gagged at the thought of the odor.
She looked around for Joe and saw him in the main restaurant, showing a couple to their table. “Joe is dealing with the brunch rush, so I don’t want to disrupt him. I’ll call him tomorrow to thank him for setting this up, but please tell him how grateful I am. I’ll have a chance to return the favor during friends and family weekend.”
Mirabelle gave her sister a big hug. Henley was only a 90-minute drive away, but Larissa felt as if she were going to the moon. Mirabelle was dragged away by her two children, who only had so much patience when it came to spending time with adults. They were on the verge of melting down, so Mirabelle took them outside. She waved as she was tugged off and Larissa knew her sister would call as she was driving to Henley.
Larissa interrupted her father, who was talking to his lady friend Dee Wexler. Mirabelle and Larissa had all but come out and told their father to make an honest woman out of Dee. The two had been quietly dating for six years.
“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but I’m leaving. Care to walk me to my car, Dad?”
“Of course,” Lang said.
Larissa touched Dee’s arm. “I’ll have him back in just a few minutes. Call me if anything goes wrong—you have my number. I know my father will try and get everything done himself. The house is big and old, and he should sell it, but that’s a conversation for another day.” Larissa sighed. She and Mirabelle had tried and failed to convince their father to sell. “I’d like to help pay for major repairs if they come up,” Larissa added. “On a more personal note, thank you for being there for my father.”
“He does plenty for me, Larissa. Your father has been a great role model for my teenage son. I should be thanking you for sharing him and welcoming me into the family.”
“I’ll see you next month, Dee. Bryce is welcome at the Salt Rose Inn, too,” Larissa said before locking arms with her father and walking to the parking lot.
Lang walked Larissa to her Subaru and neither of them had too much to say, because they didn’t want to cry. Larissa had taken over as lady of the Forsyth house, but she would become the matriarch when she moved to Henley and took over the bed and breakfast. It had been Dolly’s role, because she’d owned the family headquarters, and now the mantle passed to Larissa.
“Don’t forget where you came from and the people who love you. Call when you get to Henley,” Lang said.
“I love you, Daddy,” Larissa said as she wiped away a tear. She’d almost gotten away with dry eyes.
“I love you. Don’t let the ghosts get you.”
Larissa pulled out of the parking lot, shaking her head.
“Death and Breakfast” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
Larissa Forsyth has bravely decided to leave everything behind, including her position in the corporate world and start managing the bed and breakfast she has unexpectedly inherited. She has always been a dynamic woman and she knows this is the fresh start she deeply needs at this stage of her life. However, as soon as she starts her new idyllic life, she is hit by the most unforeseeable tragedy… No one could have prepared her for the shocking murder that would take place in room 13, a room that was already surrounded by haunting rumours.
Even after this horrific incident, Larissa refuses to believe that the Salt Rose Inn is haunted and that ghosts of the past are roaming its halls. Evil spirits are actually the last thing on her mind, as the accusations for the murder of her former boss, Duncan Kroger, feel like a much scarier threat against her. To make matters worse, Ty Reynolds, the dashing police-chief and Larissa’s former boyfriend, seems determined to arrest anyone within proximity regardless of their innocence. This only leads to Larissa inevitably taking justice in her own hands and starting to eliminate the suspects herself. However, when another loyal employee is arrested for the murder, Larissa is forced to dig deeper, faster and into a friend’s past for clues…
With mysterious sounds coming from the vacant rooms and the perfume scent of a dead woman lingering in the air, truth and fantasy quickly blend into an unreadable mix that makes this case even more challenging. Having her one time fiancé, Henry Gallagher, by her side might be encouraging, but everything else around her seems to be dangerously closing in on her. Will Larissa be scared away from the truth and give up on the case for good? Or will her thirst for justice haunt her conscience so much that she won’t be able to find peace until she exposes the killer?
“Death and Breakfast” is an intriguing cozy mystery novel of approximately 60,000 words. No cliffhangers, just pure captivating mystery.
Hello, my dear readers! I really hope you enjoyed this preview of my latest mystery! Looking forward to reading your thoughts below! 🕵️