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“You always do get the last word in!” Marina shot back with a quick laugh. “Okay, you got your flowers. They’re in a secure container, filled with water, and your headstone is freshly polished. Now go bug Grandad for a while. I have a grand opening to prep for. But maybe you’re just too busy jumping clouds and eating all the donutsyouwant to care any longer about my earthly woes—including no husband. Not even a boyfriend!”
Marina paused at the empty silence, then rose to her feet. Grief bloomed in her chest. She wanted Granny to keep talking to her. At least in her mind. Although she suspected that her grandmother would have scolded her to quit saying no to all those boys—men—who kept asking her out.
Not that there were very many. At all.
Nobody had caught her eye in a long time. Because there was this part of her that wished the past had turned out much, much differently.
“Water under the bridge,”Granny would have said.“Keep lookin’and don’t stop living your life!”
“Easy for you to say!” Marina spluttered, throwing her hands up as the small spell of time had already broken, and her grandmother’s presence floated away.
Rubbing at her eyes, she trudged back to the parking lot, blowing a kiss over her shoulder. A sudden spark of light twinkled behind her. Like a glint in a rearview mirror.
Whirling on her heel, Marina stared behind her. A silent breeze lifted the Spanish moss in wafts of spidery filigree, but there was nobody there.
Hmm. Perhaps it was just her granny saying goodbye—or demanding that on her next visit, Marina better bring back a maple frosted Coffee Loft donut with chocolate chunks and pecans.
“I gotcha, Granny,” she said with a thumbs up while she climbed into her red Honda SUV and revved the engine.
Chapter Two
Wade Kennedy took the exit off the I-10 freeway and headed for the small city cemetery.
It was a gorgeous spring day in New Orleans. The best weather in weeks after a whole lot of rain. Which meant the azaleas had gone crazy.
He glanced over to point out the unexpected beauty of the day to his fiancée, Lydia Gravois, but she was busy twisting the sparkling diamond ring around her finger, sighing happily.
She’d been admiring the engagement ring non-stop after they drove away from the jeweler’s where they had picked up the ring after having it resized.
Despite Wade weaving in and out of the heavy traffic which Lydia frequently commented on, she hadn’t paid a smidgen of attention today. She had eyes only for that three-carat stone. The biggest diamond Lydia could find in Welsh’s Fine Jewelers.
Yes, his fiancée had big eyes when it came to the perfect diamond, but since Wade had a big wallet, he didn’t begrudge her. In fact, helikedpampering her, as well as other people and even strangers when he came across someone in need.
“It isperfectionon my hand, don’t you think?” Lydia cooed. “Especially after my new manicure. I do love this shade of red. Blood red sets the stone off in a completely magical way.”
“Yes, honey, it’s perfect,” he repeated for the third time that hour, grinning at her.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “That was patronizing, Wade darling.”
“I am merely amused at your enthusiasm,” he assured her.
Lydia’s chin jerked up when Wade turned on his blinker and made a quick right turn causing her to shift in her seat. “Where in the world are you going?”
“Do you mind if we stop at the cemetery for a few minutes?” he asked.
“A cemetery? I thought we were going home after our shopping trip?”
“We will, but I thought we’d stop here first since it’s so close. Besides, we have time, it’s not even five o’clock yet.”
“That’s true,” she said, wiggling her fingers to catch the spring sunlight streaming through the car window, which lit up the diamond ring in an entirely new way. “Even so,whyare you stopping at acemetery? That’s a strange thing to do.”
“My younger brother is buried in a family plot near here. From way back when we were kids. My folks and grandparents grew up in this part of town.”
“I forgot you were born on the other side of the tracks,” Lydia said flippantly. Wade knew she didn’t like to think about that part of his life. The part where he was born in a tiny town in Alabama before moving to Louisiana in first grade—where they’d lived in the lower-rent part of town again while his father tried to get back into the university to finish his degree and go on to grad school.
All she knew was the current Wade Kennedy. All-Star football player, president of Kennedy Real Estate andInvestments, and owner of one of the nicest historic Victorian homes in the Garden District.
“How old were you when you moved to New Orleans?” Lydia asked now.
