Page 63 of Craving Consequences

I know the importance of order in Jefferson. The year may not be the 1920s, but marriage and family are the very bedrock of our foundation. Couples living together out of wedlock, fornication, is simply a crime worse than murder.

And it’s not a lie what I said. I broached the subject of marriage to Bron.

I gauged where we stood in our relationship, if we had a future.

The very conversation unloaded a rage in him that rivaled anything before or after.

Marrying me was as desirable to him as rolling through cow dung in the July heat.

I could have requested his dick on a platter for the way he’d leapt off my sofa and stormed out.

Still, sin hadn’t been on his mind either, it seems. Sleeping with me had all but emptied his stomach into my lap.

He only wanted money, I think miserably.

“It’s all right, honey. You can tell us,” Irene coos.

I have to pause and collect my thoughts.

“It’s just so embarrassing,” I explain, “for him to think I’m the kind of woman who would just ... offer myself to a man without God’s blessing. Maybe he’s okay being with someone like that, but I’m not that woman.”

As if the realization struck all of them at the same time, a collective gasp rings from the table.

“Is that the reason he showed up at your door in the wee hours of the morning, causing all manner of disturbances?” Mavis exclaims.

I nod, lowering my gaze to the cluster of plastic roses in the pot at the center of the table.

“I texted to tell him we needed to talk. I wanted to set the record straight, marriage or nothing.” Nods ripple around me with low murmurs of approval.

“He was not happy about it. Thank goodness Sheriff Brewer arrived when he did. And Mr. Shaw. I didn’t think he would be so upset. ”

Dolores’s hand pats mine and I expect a cloud of dust to rise between us. I have to resist the urge to pull away.

“You did the right thing, Everly. Your mother — God rest her soul — would have been proud of you. You’re still so young and many in your shoes would have crumpled to temptation, but good for you for holding your ground.

” She turns sharp, blue eyes to the others, lips pressed thin with disapproval.

“We must pray for Bron. We must ask the Lord to guide him back to the path of light.”

The others nod with vigorous agreement.

“We should also include prayers for Suzy Parker,” Irene voices loudly. “May she find it in herself to be a better wife and mother to Lewis so he may resist the temptation of other women.”

Low hums echo as the others continue to bob their heads.

“And poor Macy with her—”

I cut them off, my job here, complete. “I am deeply grateful for your prayers and your support. Can I ask that you please keep this to yourselves. Bron is clearly very troubled and needs time to heal himself.”

“Of course.” Dolores thumps my hand a few more times. “Do not concern yourself.”

I offer them my practiced smile. “Thank you. Now, I must go. There’s quite a bit to finish for Lauren’s party still.” I heave a sigh. “It will most likely take all night to complete alone. Bron was supposed to help me but...”

The women click their tongues.

“You can’t go out into the woods alone. You should ask Lachlan and Van. They’ve always been so caring towards you since your poor parents’ deaths — rest their souls. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind returning with you.”

I bunch my nose. “They’ve already helped so much. I would feel greedy monopolizing their time.”

“Nonsense!” Mavis huffs. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”

“Unlike his son, Lachlan is a decent and kind man,” Dolores agrees. “And Van has been a decent addition to our little town.”

“His daughter, however...” Irene mutters around the rim of the cup perched on her bottom lip.

“It is unfortunate that Van did not take our suggestions to find a decent mother for the girl.”

My molars grind as they casually discuss Lauren like some errant child and not a fully grown woman capable of making her own choices.

“Her behavior is distasteful as is her manner,” Mavis complains. “I’m fairly certain she’s lured half the town’s men to her bed. If she wasn’t half decent with a pair of scissors, I would—”

I shove up to my feet. The iron rods of my chair shriek across the linoleum, silencing the chatter.

It takes everything in me to stifle the actual words burning in my tongue as I will a smile down into their startled faces.

“I apologize. I just realized I have to run to Holland’s before setting off. Thank you again for your guidance.”

Without waiting for further nonsense, I push my chair back under the table and hurry back to the counter, Maisie and the small mountain of white boxes.

I thank her and pay for my purchases. She gives me an almost apologetic little grin as I gather up my things and start for the door.

It swings open and a gorgeous, raven-haired woman with enormous green eyes rushes in. Her long skirt flares around her legs in a flash of brilliant scarlet, blue and yellow as she twirls to catch the door for me.

I smile, adjusting my hold. “Thank you, Daisy.”

Tall, tan and exotic in a way no one in Jefferson could possibly pull off, Daisy De Luca is the very definition of out of place.

Everything from her chunky jewelry to her wild, dark curls raises eyebrows, but she pulls it off.

Maybe it’s just the gravity she has or the way she just exists without care, but I am absolutely fascinated by her.

“Sure thing, sweetie pie. Need a hand? ”

She’s already grabbing two of the boxes off the top before I can even answer. My gaze catches on the thick, silver ring on her middle finger with the chunky turquoise stone in the center.

“That’s beautiful,” I tell her as we head out onto the sidewalk and start in the direction of my car.

Daisy tilts her head to peek at her hand.

“Thank you. It was my mom’s.”

Daisy only moved to Jefferson two months before. She’s kept mainly to herself so far, but I know she applied for a lease on a small store front to sell jewelry. Handmade pieces.

I eye the cluster of stones and wires dangling from her ears and the matching tangle looping her throat.

“Did you make those?”

Daisy glances at me and smiles warmly. “I did. I have a few like it I’m going to showcase in my store ... if I get the approval.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her she probably won’t. She’s too ‘new age hippie’ for Jefferson, but I also hope she does. Her pieces are stunning and, while I can’t pull them off, she deserves a chance.

“You know, you should look into booking a booth at this year’s autumn festival,” I hint, keeping my tone casual. “It might be a good way to get the town to see what you can do. ”

And maybe get enough excitement generated to convince the council to approve her request.

“Autumn festival, huh?” she muses.

“Yeah, it’s held over at Thistle Row. There’s rides and a corn maze. Kids dress up and get candy. It’s a lot of fun.”

“So, like a Halloween thing?”

I grimace. “Jefferson doesn’t do Halloween. It’s just a festival.”

A thick, dark eyebrow lifts over glittering green pools. “A festival where kids dress up in costumes and get candy.”

Realizing the silliness of it, I chuckle. “Yeah, basically.”

She snorts her own laugh. “Well, that is an interesting concept. Does the whole town go?”

I nod. “Most of the events we throw get a lot of participation.”

We take several steps without conversation as she seems to take this in. We arrive at my car and she continues in our silence as I pop the trunk and gingerly set the boxes along the bottom.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Slamming the trunk shut, I dust my hands and face her. “Of course.”

“You were born in Jefferson, right?”

I nod and wait.

“And your parents? ”

Again, I nod. “My family has been part of the town for generations. Not since the beginning, but pretty close. Why?”

She seems to mull something over before asking, “If I were looking for old stories and newspaper articles, where would I go?”

I blow out a breath and rack my brain. “Maybe the library? But you can try the archives at city hall. You’d need clearance, but what kind of stories?”

A smooth, bare shoulder shrugs beneath the knitted tank top. “Just want to get to know the town history better, that’s all.”

The corner of my mouth twists up and I grin at her. “You know, you could always join the Women’s Tea Garden. They have gossip on everyone.”

Green eyes turn back in the direction we’d come from. “That’s those snooty looking ladies, right?”

I burst out laughing. “Dolores Winslow and her posse, yes.”

She hums and wrinkles her nose, bunching up the constellation of freckles littering the fine arch. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough for that.” She shoots me a lopsided smirk. “Thanks for your help.”

Without waiting for a response, Daisy strolls back in the direction of the bakery. Her wild riot bounces down her back in shiny, black ringlets .

Interesting, I think as I head around to the driver’s side door.

I drop inside and reach across into the passenger’s side for my purse.

I drag it into my lap. From the depths, I fish out my phone and charger cable.

The damn thing is dead, and I need it before I’m deep in the woods without service.

I plug it into the car outlet, drop the phone itself into the cup holder and pull into the light, early morning traffic.

My conversation with Daisy is already a distant memory as I mentally calculate my next stop.

Holland’s is closest. I can grab the groceries before heading to May’s.

But there is one other stop I need to make.

The final step in my plan. I was going to hold off until after the party, but after last night, after feeling that deep, gnawing loss of watching Lachlan and Van leave for the night, it dawned on me that I was letting this spiral.