Letters in the Library

Book 2: The Inn at Holiday Bay

by Kathi Daley

Genres: Animal Cozy Mysteries; Culinary Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

A heartwarming cozy mystery series about losing everything, taking a chance, and starting again.

After suffering a personal tragedy Abby Sullivan buys a huge old seaside mansion she has never even seen, packs up her life in San Francisco, and moves to Holiday Bay Maine, where she is adopted, quite against her will, by a huge Maine Coon Cat named Rufus, a drifter with her own tragic past named Georgia, and a giant dog with an inferiority complex named Ramos. What Abby thought she needed was alone time to heal. What she ended up with was, an inn she never knew she wanted, a cat she couldn't seem to convince to leave, and a new family she'd never be able to live without.

In book 2 of the series, Abby finds a bundle of letters which had been written in 1954 in the wall of the library after Lonnie tears it down as part of the remodel. Intrigued by the secret revealed in the letters, Abby and Georgia set out to find the rest of the story.

Meanwhile, Chief Colt Wilder uncovers a new clue relating to the death of a local girl the previous summer. In spite of her vow to focus her time on her writing, Abby finds herself pulled into the tangled web of half truths that may tell a different story than was first believed true.

Join Abby, Georgia, Rufus, and Ramos, as they continue with the remodel on the old mansion, prepare for a busy summer season, and continue to find a new meaning for their lives in the charming small town of Holiday Bay.

Release date: February 11, 2019

Publisher: Kathi Daley Books

Print pages: 156

Sample

Chapter 1

 

If there is anything I have learned over the course of the past fourteen months, it is that life is fluid and evolving. It is made up of highs and lows that seem to merge one into the other as events unfold and memories take us where they might. It is messy and unpredictable, and a single unforeseen moment can result in an event so unimaginable, it can cast us into our own personal hell. But life can also surprise and uplift us. It can bring joy and laughter, and if we open ourselves to its presence, it can bring a breathless beauty mere words cannot convey. Life can energize and enrich us, it can provide meaning and belonging in places never expected. Life is a state into which we are born, but in the course of living out our moments, it can also be a decision we are challenged to make. 

Fourteen months ago, my husband Ben and infant son Johnathan were killed in a senseless accident that sent me into the darkest depths of despair. At the time, it seemed easier to give in, to lose myself in the darkness, but somewhere along the way, I’d found a reason to choose life, and with that choice, a willingness to dig myself out of my grief one painful moment at a time. 

Today would have been Ben’s thirty-fifth birthday had he lived, which, if it had been anything like his thirtieth birthday, would most likely have resulted in a day of sullen introspection on his part. Ben had serious goals for his life, and a timeline marked off in five-year increments that corresponded to those goals. If his timeline was off by even a tiny bit when a defining birthday came around, you could bet that champagne toasts and decadent cakes would have been replaced by the sort of despondent torment that would make him almost unbearable to be around. Of course, in this moment, as I sat in a dark room and remembered my life with the man I had loved with my whole being, I knew in my heart I would welcome despondent torment, or really any mood, if it meant that Ben and I could be together even one more day. 

God, I missed him.

I leaned back into the pillows I’d stacked against my headboard as a deep sorrow engulfed me. Rufus, the cat I’d never wanted but now couldn’t imagine living without, snuggled up next to me, purring loudly. I leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. Opening the drawer of the nightstand, I pulled out a small box. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the lid, then reached into the box and pulled out a photo. The one I’d randomly chosen had been taken of Ben the day he’d made detective. I ran a finger over his huge grin. He’d been so happy and proud. He’d worked hard and never looked back despite the challenges he’d been tasked with along the way. Ben had most definitely been a disciplined fellow, and with the promotion, he’d actually been ahead of his schedule, so maybe this birthday, unlike his thirtieth, would have been all smiles and happy celebration.

Rufus butted his head under my chin, in a move I’d come to recognize as his attempt to offer comfort when I was sad. I scratched him behind the ears, then picked up another photo of Ben and me on our wedding day. A single tear trailed down my cheek as I turned the photo over to find our names, Ben and Abby Sullivan, along with the date of our union, and the location, in the heart of San Francisco, where we’d promised to love and honor each other until death do us part.

Until death do us part. Who could have guessed that death would part us a mere five years after we pledged our lives to each other?

I replaced the photo and rummaged through the box, which also contained photos of the first little apartment we lived in before we were even married, my first book signing, the trip to Mexico we took when I made the New York Times Bestsellers list, and, of course, many, many photos of the unexpected and unplanned but very welcome child who had come from our union. Ben loved Johnathan and would have been a good father, but I did have to wonder how a baby in the house might have altered the life path he had set up for himself. Would he have taken changes to that plan with a grain of salt or would he have eventually sunk into a depression he might never have been able to work himself out of? Now I guess we’d never know.

Johnathan had only been five weeks old when a distracted driver had swerved into Ben’s lane, ripping both my husband and my infant son from my life. Ben had never wanted children, and to be honest, prior to having Johnathan, a baby was the farthest thing from my mind as well. But once Johnathan was born, and I’d held him in my arms, I knew that he occupied a hole in my life that could never have been filled by anyone as completely as it had been by the tiny little gift from heaven that had arrived two weeks early on a rainy fall day.

I set the box of photos on the nightstand and glanced out the window. It was early. Still dark. I doubted that my roommate would be up, which was just as well because I felt that I needed some time to pull my ragged emotions into line. After Ben and Johnathan died, I hadn’t wanted to go on living. I was so lost and afraid. I truly believed my life was over, and I hadn’t known what to do to find my way back to the living. Those first weeks of empty rooms, pitying glances, and days without hope of happiness were the darkest of my life. But then I’d seen an ad for a dilapidated old mansion perched high upon a bluff overlooking the sea, and I knew that if I ever wanted to reenter the land of the living, I’d need a fresh start and a new perspective. I paid cash for the house sight unseen, packed up my belongings, and moved from San Francisco, California, to Holiday Bay, Maine, where I found the new life I’d longed for and a reason to go on. 

Making a decision, I slid my legs out of bed and sat up. It had been a while since I’d taken Rufus to Velma’s Café for his favorite meal of scrambled eggs. Velma was one of the first people I’d met after arriving in Holiday Bay and I still considered her to be one of the most important people in my East Coast life, second only to my new best friend and roommate, Georgia Carter, who had shown up on my doorstep a couple of months ago with her huge black dog, Ramos. Since Velma and Georgia had become a daily part of my life, the world had opened up for me, and things I’d once thought impossible had begun to fall into place. Getting out of bed, I slipped on a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a heavy sweatshirt, then padded into the bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair. Tiptoeing so as not to wake Georgia, I picked up Rufus and headed out into the frigid morning.

I paused after exiting the cottage and looked out toward the sea. The dawn of a new day was just beginning to light the horizon. It was a frosty morning and I’d heard they were predicting snow, but in this isolated moment, as I looked toward the distant light, I felt a deep gratitude for the life I had discovered. From the moment I’d first seen the cottage on the rocky bluff overlooking the sea, I knew in my heart that fate had led me to the exact spot in time and space where I needed to be to rebuild my shattered life.

The lull between the enchantment and magic of the Christmas Festival and the elegance and romance of the Valentine’s Ball had settled over Holiday Bay, bringing a quiet I found welcoming. Not that I hadn’t enjoyed the festival, which ran from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve, but I found that after the energy of the holiday season, I longed for the quiet and serenity that comes with a slower pace. Of course, I supposed that at least part of my appreciation for the silence stemmed from the fact that I was smack dab in the middle of the remodel on the mansion and my days at home tended to be loud, and crowded, and hectic. A lot more hectic, I realized, than I had even imagined they would be. 

“Morning, Velma,” I said to the woman I’d met on my first morning in Holiday Bay and now called a friend. 

“Abby; Rufus. It’s been a while since the two of you have been in.”

I hung up my jacket and then slipped into a booth. The diner was deserted so early in the morning, which was just fine with me. “I’ve been busy with the remodel, as well as the novel, so I have been staying close to home. Rufus and I woke up early this morning and decided it was a good day to come in and say hi.”

Velma set a menu on the table. “Georgia not with you?”

“Georgia and Ramos were still sleeping when we left the cottage.” 

“Well, I’m glad the two of you stopped by. It’s been quiet now that the holiday is over. What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have biscuits and sausage gravy and Rufus will have scrambled eggs.”

Velma set a cup of coffee in front of me, then hurried off to make our meals. Rufus, who was familiar with the procedure, followed Velma into the kitchen, where he would eat in the mudroom at the back of the building. Once they had disappeared from sight, I took out my phone and checked my messages. There was one from my agent, asking for an update on the manuscript I was working on, one from an old friend of Ben’s, acknowledging his birthday and wishing me all the best on what must be a difficult day, and one from my insurance agent, asking for some additional information for my homeowner’s policy. The most surprising message of all, however, was a short email from my sister. Annie, letting me know that she was thinking of me today.

As I read the email for a second time, I put my hand over my heart and sucked in a deep breath. Tears I had been valiantly holding at bay streamed down my cheeks as I pictured my sister in my mind. In the months since I’d left California for Maine, I’d longed for even a small glimmer of hope that my relationship with Annie could be repaired, and after months without a word from her, this was the first time I actually felt hope.

“What is it?” Velma asked, setting a plate of food in front of me.

I used the back of my hand to wipe the moisture from my face. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“My eyesight might not be as good as it once was, but you don’t look fine.” Velma sat across from me. She placed her hand on my forearm. “What is it, sugar? Maybe I can help.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Today would have been Ben’s birthday.”

“Ah. I see. I guess that events such as birthdays never celebrated would lend themselves to a few tears.” Velma handed me a napkin. “You go ahead and have yourself a good cry.”

I took the napkin from Velma and wiped my eyes. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’ve already spent some time this morning with my memories of Ben, and I think I am going to be okay. The fact that it would have been his thirty-fifth birthday, which admittedly is a big one, isn’t really responsible for these tears.”

“So what is behind those leaky eyes?”

“I received an email from my sister, Annie.”

“Sister?’ Velma raised a brow. “I didn’t know you had a sister. You’ve never mentioned her.”

I took a sip of my coffee and leaned back in the booth. “We’ve been estranged ever since I made the decision to move to Holiday Bay. At least we’ve been estranged on her part. It’s sort of confusing, but basically, I was such a mess after Ben died, and Annie tried to help me through it. The problem was, at the time I didn’t want to get through it and wasn’t ready to let go of my grief, so I guess I pushed her away. She still hung by me despite my sour mood, until I decided to use my share of the money our grandmother left us to buy the house here. She thought I was making a terrible and impulsive mistake and tried to stop me from both buying the house and making the move. When I chose to ignore her pleas, she tried to stop me legally, and when that didn’t work, she removed herself from the situation and hasn’t spoken to or even communicated with me since.”

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry. To lose a sister after having lost so much. I just can’t imagine.”

“It’s been tough, and I have been trying to find a way back to her. Ever since I’ve been living in Holiday Bay, I’ve been writing her chatty emails about the house and the town, hoping that she would see that I was happy. I hoped if she could see that, and the decision to move here wasn’t a huge mistake, she would choose to let bygones be bygones and be happy with me. But until today, she hadn’t responded to any of the dozens of emails I’ve sent.”

“And today?” Velma asked.

“She sent me just a single sentence that let me know she was thinking of me. It’s not a lot, but it is something. To me, the act offers hope that maybe at some point in the future we can heal our relationship. She’s the only family I have left.” I glanced at Velma. “Well, at least the only family that is related by blood. Since moving to Holiday Bay, I feel like I have a new family that means much more to me than I can ever say.”

“I know what you mean. One of the reasons I would never consider a move from Holiday Bay is because I have family here, although truth be told, not a single member of that family is related by blood.”

“Your parents are no longer with you?”

Velma shook her head. “They’ve been gone a long time. I do, like you, have a sister, but like you, we are estranged. She moved away a very long time ago and I haven’t seen her since.”

“I’m so sorry. When was the last time you saw your sister?”

“More than thirty years ago.”

I choked on my coffee. “Thirty years? But why? It seems that in thirty years you could have found a way to mend fences.”

Velma shrugged. “The years get away from you if you aren’t keeping a close eye on them. When Regina left, I assumed she’d be back. I really didn’t even fret about her departure at the time. We had both set our sights on the same guy, a guy she loved but who chose me, and I guess I figured that a little separation would be good for us. I hoped it would give us some perspective so that we could talk things through and put our argument behind us.” A look of sadness came over Velma’s face. “I really thought she’d be home by Christmas. Reggie loved Christmas at Holiday Bay. But Christmas came and went and she didn’t come home, so I decided to set my sights on the following December. But the years sort of melted one into the other, and she never did come home. I guess at this point I should assume she never will.”

“And the guy?”

“Married him.” Velma let out a laugh that sounded more like a snort. “Didn’t last more than a couple of miserable years. Guess I should have let Reggie have him, but I was young and he was everything I thought I’d ever wanted. He was a mistake I have lived to regret.”

“You should go to Reggie and talk to her. Tell her that you made a mistake and are sorry.”

“Can’t. I have no idea where she is.”

“There must be a way to find her. Have you tried?”

Velma shook her head. “Seems pointless at this point in time. I may not have known where to find Reggie all these years, but she knew where to find me. If she had wanted to talk to me at any point during the past thirty years, she could have called or come by.” Velma looked up as a family of six came in through the front door. “I need to get to work. You enjoy those biscuits.”

That family turned out to be the beginning of the breakfast crowd, so I finished my food in silence. Wow, thirty years. I guess I understood how little things could turn into big things and people we cared about could drift away, but thirty years? Maybe Velma didn’t know where her sister was after all this time, but the mystery writer in me assured me that there must be a way to find her. With today’s technology, oftentimes a name and a directed internet search was enough to provide the information I knew we’d need to at least begin our search.

Velma was still busy when I’d finished my meal, so it seemed apparent I wouldn’t be able to speak to her about it today. I left a nice tip, grabbed Rufus, and headed to my car. As long as I was in town, I figured I’d stop by the market, so I set Rufus on the passenger seat of my SUV and drove in that direction. The town was beginning to show signs of life by this point, as folks headed to work and parents began ferrying their children to school. 

After I purchased the items I needed, I headed out to the parking lot, where I stood for a moment and simply listened to the sound of the wind whistling through the trees. Snow flurries filled the air, blocking out the clear skies I’d woken to. Winter in Maine certainly wasn’t for everyone, with the frigid temperatures and frequent snow, but given the current parameters of my life, I actually found the isolation to be pretty perfect.

Once my groceries were loaded, I returned the store cart and headed home. Home, I thought to myself. A word that means so much more than just a place to hang one’s hat. A word that at one point in my life I’d taken for granted. A word I’d lost along the way, only to rediscover it in a place I’d never imagined before tragedy had consumed my life.