CHAPTER ONE
Madeline Stuart yanked on the drawer of her mother’s antique writing desk. It refused to budge. She jiggled it back and forth. Nothing. She drummed her fingers on the worn mahogany, shiny with years of careful polishing. Her mother, and her grandmother before that, had always treasured this desk. Now it was hers, a bittersweet inheritance.
She tugged one more time. It jerked loose, and went careening to the floor. The contents spilled onto the carpet in a haphazard pile of memories. The tears welled up in her eyes. Again. Would they ever stop?
She’d just spent an exhausting hour wrestling the desk from her mother’s house, to the trunk of her car, and into the apartment. It was one of the few things she’d kept of her mother’s. Besides, she loved the old desk and she was the only family left to appreciate it. The very last.
A long drawn out sigh escaped. It was probably the hundredth sigh of the day, but who was counting? She dropped down to her knees to pick up the drawer and its contents. The pretty floral lining of the drawer was pulled away in one corner. She’d have to glue it back down. She scooted over under the light from the lamp and sat on the floor, sorting through the items scattered around her on the carpet. Her mother’s favorite fountain pen. A small pad of paper. A roll of stamps—old five-cent stamps—and a few loose three-cent stamps.
The corners of her mouth tugged up in an involuntary smile at the same time tears filled her eyes. So many years her mother had sat at that desk writing notes to people. She had never gotten into emails, just good old-fashioned letters. Her mother had written her a letter every single week when she’d been away at college. Madeline still had them all bundled together and tied up with a ribbon on a shelf in her closet. She dashed her hand at the tears and looked down at the desk drawer. A piece of aged paper peeked out from under the edge of the drawer lining and caught her eye. She tilted the drawer up and examined it closely. It looked like the corner of an envelope. She carefully pried back the lining and pulled out an old letter, wrinkled and brown with age.
The envelope was addressed to a Miss Josephine Amaud in Comfort Crossing, Mississippi. The return address had faded so she turned the envelope towards the light. The washed out ink would barely give up a clue. It might be the letter O. Whatever it was, it looked like just a single letter.
Debating on whether to open it or not—but of course she had to—she slipped her finger under the flap, and found it had already been opened, or maybe the glue had just disintegrated with age. She slid out the letter and slowly unfolded the creased page.
Dear Jo,
I’ll meet you at the old live oak on Friday. I have everything arranged. Trust me. We can be together forever.
All my love, O
She flipped the envelope over again and traced the words. Comfort Crossing. She’d heard of that town before. She was positive—well, mostly positive—that her grandmother had lived there for a while when she was young.
So many questions popped into her head. Who was Josephine Amaud and why was her letter in the desk? Had she owned the desk before her grandmother and mother had? Why was a letter addressed to Miss Josephine Amaud hidden in the desk drawer?
Madeline climbed back off the floor. Her leather laptop bag rested against the desk. She slipped out her laptop and set it on top. As she flipped open the lid the light illuminated the desk. A quick search for Comfort Crossing brought up the fact that it was indeed in Mississippi. A small town near the gulf. She’d half-thought it wouldn’t exist anymore.
She picked up the letter and a strange pull washed over her, like a siren call, that lured her to Comfort Crossing to figure out who this Josephine Amaud was. That was crazy talk. Why should she go on a wild goose chase to figure out why the letter was in the desk? Or maybe it was a chance to see the place where her grandmother had grown up and feel that connection to family again. Whatever the reason for the trip, she decided right then and there that she was going.
She really needed to get away, anyway. Her boss at the accounting firm had suggested she take some time off. Well, it had been a bit more than a suggestion. She’d made a couple of costly mistakes, which was not like her. Luckily a partner had caught the errors before the situation had become an even bigger mess. She just couldn’t get her mind into her work and she felt she was always on the edge of tears.
Besides, winter here in the Midwest was a melancholy proposition during the best of times. Snow. Ice. Endless gray days. Madeline sucked in a deep breath—this winter could never be called the best of times.
She touched the letter again, wondering who had sent it, and who Josephine Amaud had been. Maybe searching for the answer was not such a bad idea after all. Maybe a split from everyday life was just what she needed. Okay, to be honest, maybe she was running away. Away from the stress and loss and emptiness. She might be all grown up now, but she still felt like a little lost orphan.
* * *
Never one to put off action after she’d made a decision, Madeline left early the next day and headed south on Highway 55. Maybe she could find out what had happened to Josephine and her mysterious letter writer. Her boss had been happy to accept her vacation request. Perhaps a bit too happy, but she wasn’t going to think about that.
The tension that had held her so close for so many weeks began to fade away as the miles rolled by. She’d always liked driving. Road trips were so much more enjoyable than flying. A chance to see the country. Besides, she absolutely lusted after a break from the gray dreary winter weather they’d been having in St. Louis. Piles of dirty snow had lined the street for weeks in her neighborhood. It was so nice to drive south and out of the snow.
The high temperature in Mississippi was supposed to be seventy degrees today and sunny. She’d checked on the weather app on her phone before she left. After hours of driving, she drove out of the snow and cloudy skies in Missouri and into the sunshine in Tennessee. The temperature warmed a bit with each state line she crossed.
She stopped occasionally for gas or coffee or just to stretch her legs. She climbed back in her car, and her GPS lady would guide her back to the highway. She loved her British-accent GPS lady—she had named her Eleanor. Eleanor was always ready with some helpful guidance. She found herself talking to Eleanor, thanking her, and arguing with her when she thought Eleanor was wrong.
Madeline decided she was a nutcase these days. She doubted many people carried on conversations with their GPS lady—much less named her.
Finally, at the end of the afternoon, Eleanor graciously told her when it was time to head off the highway and take the back roads towards Comfort Crossing.
It was nightfall when she pulled into town and turned onto the main road through town—appropriately named Main Street. The road was paved in brick cobblestone and her car made a rackety noise as she drove down the street.
Part way down Main Street she saw a sign on a large white house with a wide front porch. The words Sweet Tea Bed and Breakfast were carved into a fancy wooden sign. A vacancy sign hung below it. That worked. She hadn’t thought to make reservations or look up a place to stay. She pulled her car into the circular drive.
She grabbed her bag from the front seat and headed up to the front door. The door knocker made a clanking noise through the warm night air. The door opened and light spilled out onto the front porch.
“Welcome to the Sweet Tea.” A woman, probably in her fifties, stood in the doorway. She flashed a warm smile and tucked a flyaway piece of graying hair behind her ear. “You looking for a place to stay?”
“I am, but I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”
“Well, come on in. I’m Rebecca, by the way.”
“Madeline. Madeline Stuart.”
Rebecca led her over to a desk in the corner of the front room. “Let’s get you all signed in. I have a nice corner room available. It overlooks our backyard gardens. Still a few things blooming out there. I think you’ll like it. We have three other guests right now. Breakfast is between seven and ten. Whatever time works for you, just come on down to the dining room.”
Madeline let the stream of conversation wash over her. The B&B was decorated with antiques and overstuffed chairs that begged a person to come and sit down. It all looked so homey and welcoming, which was comforting and disconcerting at the same time in her current frame of mind.
Rebecca interrupted her thoughts. “Here’s your key. Do you want me to take your bag?”
“No, I’ve got it, thanks.” Madeline trailed behind Rebecca as the woman practically bounced up the stairs. She’d be so lucky to have that much energy at that age. Heck, she’d be lucky to have that much energy now. The last month had taken its toll.
Rebecca opened the door and handed Madeline the key. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything. I usually have coffee going by six in the morning if you want some before breakfast. Tomorrow is french toast, but if that doesn’t work for you I can cook you some eggs or whatever you want. Always have fruit and some kind of pastry.”
Madeline looked around the room, so prettily decorated with antiques. A vintage white chenille bedspread covered the queen sized bed and she broke into a smile. Her grandmother had owned a bedspread just like it.
Madeline stepped further into the room. An antique mirror hung over the dresser. A milk glass lamp rested on a writing table against one wall. A comfortable looking chair and reading lamp beckoned from the corner.
“The room is really pretty.” Madeline turned to Rebecca.
“Thanks. I love finding the perfect piece of furniture for the rooms and little items to decorate with. I’m always changing something. Larry, that’s my husband, is always making a fuss about my redecorating, but he doesn’t really mind. He’s out doing a run to the corner market for me right now. I needed a few things for breakfast. He’s good about running errands for me. He likes to keep me happy. That’s a great quality in a man, don’t you think so?”
Madeline just nodded against this flow of words. Not that she’d know if that was a great quality in a man. She’d never had a man who treated her particularly great, that’s for sure. Especially the last man who had been too busy to come to her mother’s funeral. The man she’d been dating for over a year and a half. Then he’d broken up with her a week later, just when she’d needed him most. A sad commentary on the quality of that relationship.
Once again, Rebecca interrupted Madeline’s thoughts. “I’ll let you get all settled in. I’ll be down in the kitchen if you need anything.”
“Do you have a suggestion on where I could get a quick dinner?”
“Sure do. Right down the street. One block. Magnolia Cafe. Wonderful food.”
“Thanks, I’ll try that.”
Rebecca slipped out the door, closing it softly behind her. Madeline stood looking at the warmly lit room. She placed her bag on the wooden luggage rack, took off her jacket, and sank into the chair in the corner. She ached with a loneliness that even the cheerful room couldn’t help chase away. The homeyness of the room taunted her, reminding her of what she was missing since putting her mother’s house on the market—the home she’d grown up in. Tears teased the corners of her eyes. Again. She had to get over the tears. Somehow.
What had seemed like such a great idea, this hunt for Josephine and her mystery man, now seemed like a bit of a foolish quest. Why did they even matter to her?
But, in some way, they did. Not that she could explain it.
* * *
Thirty minutes later Madeline was walking through the front door of the Magnolia Cafe. A young woman came up to her immediately, with a friendly smile and a stack of menus.
“Table for one?”
“Yes, please.” Madeline followed the woman to a booth by the front window.
“I’m Keely, glad you stopped in. Just traveling through?”
“I’m here for a few days. Staying at Sweet Tea B&B. Rebecca recommended this place.”
“Good for Rebecca, my one-woman public relations manager. Isn’t her B&B darling? She is so talented at decorating. The Sweet Tea looks like it should be in some glossy magazine with the best decorating ideas for your home.”
“It’s very pretty.” Madeline had to admit the B&B was lovely. Rebecca seemed to have an innate sense of what went together, without a feeling of over-decorated.
“Well, I’ll send Becky Lee to take your order. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Tea would be nice.” Madeline slipped into the booth
“Sweet tea?”
“Yes, sweet tea would be fine.”
Madeline opened the menu and looked through the plain home-cooked meals offered. She was craving comfort food, and luckily her number one comfort food, meatloaf, was on the menu.
A waitress came over and set her tea on the table. “Hi there. I hear you’re in town for a few days. Staying at the Sweet Tea. Great place to stay. I’m Becky Lee, I’ll be your server.”
“Hi, Becky Lee. I’ve already decided to try the meatloaf.”
“Good choice. Best meatloaf in the county. Heck, probably in the state. I’ll get that right out for you.” Becky Lee bustled away towards the kitchen, and Madeline sat back and looked out the window at Main Street. The street gave the impression of something out of an old- fashioned greeting card. Lampposts that looked like old gaslight lamps lined the street. The store fronts, most with great big windows, showed off their wares. Such a quaint little town. She imagined it still looked similar to when her grandmother lived here.
She wished she could remember how long her grandmother had lived here. She didn’t really have anyone to ask anymore. The last of her family was gone with her mother’s death. Madeline was an only child. Both her mom and her father had been only children as well. Her dad had been gone for years, ever since her senior year in high school. But maybe she could find out something about her grandmother’s life in Comfort Crossing.
In a short time Becky Lee came over and placed the meatloaf dinner on the table. Mashed potatoes covered in gravy and steaming green beans were piled on the plate. “Here’s some rolls. Fresh sweet yeast rolls. Also the best in the county—or state. Real butter, too.”
“Thanks.” Madeline eyed the mountainous plate of food before her, pretty sure that she’d barely make a dent in it.
“Yep, it’s a lot of food.” Becky Lee seemed to read her thoughts. “I’ll check back in a few minutes to see if you need anything else.”
Madeline watched the pretty, blonde waitress wind her way through the tables and head to the counter. She had a bounce to her step too, just like Rebecca. Well, maybe Comfort Crossing had some magical power that gave a person energy like that. She shook her head at her crazy, tired thoughts. She was a nutcase. Truly.
Madeline took a bite of the meatloaf and immediately had to agree with Becky Lee. It was delicious and probably the best meatloaf in the state, not that she’d ever had meatloaf anywhere else in Mississippi. She watched out the window as she ate her meal. The rolls were probably the best she’d ever tasted and she treated herself to an almost-never-happens second roll.
Becky Lee came over to the table. “You need anything else?”
“No, I’m fine. This was all so good.”
“Did you save room for dessert? We have some great pies.”
Probably the best in the county. Madeline rested her hand on her stomach. “I’m way too full.”
Becky Lee placed the check on the table. “So what brings you to Comfort Crossing?”
“Well…” Madeline paused for a moment, wondering if she was going to sound like a crazy person. “I found this letter in my mother’s antique desk. It was really old. Like no zip codes old, and just addressed to Josephine Amaud in Comfort Crossing.”
“Really? Who was it from?”
Madeline took the letter out of her purse. “I can’t really make out a return address or name. It’s just signed “O” with no last name.” She handed the letter to Becky Lee.
“There used to be a bunch of Amauds around here. Now there’s just my friend Izzy Amaud—well, her name is Isabella but I’ve always called her Izzy—and her brother, Gil. Izzy is out of town right now, though. Should be back any day. She’s got a handful of relatives, but none live here in town except for Gil.”
“Really? Where can I find this Gil? Maybe he’ll have some leads on this. Maybe he’ll know who sent it and if they ever met. Or why the letter was hidden. Or how it ended up hidden in my grandmother’s writing desk.”
“That’s a lot of questions, isn’t it?”
Becky Lee eyed her with a look that said that’s a tall order…or maybe it said she thought Madeline was crazy.
“You can find him tomorrow at the Feed and Seed. He owns it. They open bright and early.”
“Where’s the Feed and Seed?”
“Head back towards the Sweet Tea and make a right on Live Oak Lane. It’s about a block down the road. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks so much for your help. I’ll go there tomorrow.” Madeline picked up the check and glanced at it. It sure was way less expensive to eat in Comfort Crossing than in St. Louis. “Do I pay you?”
“Yes, I’ll take care of it for you.”
Madeline pulled out some bills from her wallet and handed them to Becky Lee. “Here, keep the change.”
“Thanks. Y’all come back.”
“I’m sure I will.” She wondered how many restaurants there were to choose from in a small town like Comfort Crossing.
* * *
Later that evening Becky Lee stood in her kitchen by the stove, waiting for the kettle to boil to fix a cup of chamomile tea. It had been a long shift at Magnolia Cafe and she wanted nothing more than to sit down with her cup of tea and put her feet up. She loved her job, but sometimes when she pulled a double shift, like today, she got plain tuckered out.
The phone rang and she crossed the kitchen to answer it. “Hello?”
“Hey, Bec. It’s Izzy.”
Becky Lee smiled at the sound of her friend’s voice. “Izzy, how’s the trip?”
“It’s fun. Kind of nice to get away. I miss my boys, though I’m sure they’re having fun with their dad.”
“You’ll be back in a few days.”
“I know, I’m just not used to being away from them much.”
“Are you finding a lot of things for your shop?”
Izzy had taken a van and gone on a road trip to different cities, combing places to find more items for her store, Bella’s Vintage Shop.
“The wholesale fair in Atlanta went well. I have some new items, ordered a few other things. I also found two great armoires that I’m going to refinish for the shop. I have an order of beautiful old tablecloths coming soon, and some vintage clothing.”
“Sounds like a productive trip.”
“It will be nice to have more new things in the store, now that I have so much more space since moving the shop to Rosewood Avenue.”
“Looks like it all worked out, didn’t it? Who knew when Owen bought your old building and threw you and the boys out of it, that things would work out so great?”
“Well, it wasn’t like he knew he was throwing us out.”
“Just teasing, Izzy. I know he wanted to give the building back to his brother.”
“Yes, he did the right thing. Acknowledging Jake as his brother. Giving Jake’s mother, Sylvia, back her building to reopen her restaurant.”
“Sylvia and Jake should be reopening the restaurant any day now.”
“I miss being on Main Street, but Rosewood Avenue is working out. Plus I love, love living in the carriage house behind the shop. The boys have so much more room and a yard to play in.”
“As I always say, things work out just how they are supposed to. Speaking of things working out, how are you and Owen doing? Have you seen him recently?”
“He’s supposed to be coming back to Comfort Crossing for the restaurant opening. I’ll be back by then, too.”
“Good. You two can spend some more time together. Seems like he’s been gone for most of the winter so far.”
“He’s been working on closing the deal on a business in Denver. I think he has that wrapped up now.”
“When you two get back in town, we’ll all have dinner.”
“Sounds good. I’d better go. I want to plan out my day tomorrow and see if I can wrap this trip up a day early. Miss my boys.”
“I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you. Drive safely. See you when you get back.” Becky Lee hung up the phone. The tea kettle was whistling, and she poured herself some in her favorite floral cup. She headed to her recliner and put her feet up. Her ever-present knitting bag rested beside the chair. She opened the bag and reached inside for the lace shawl she was making for her friend, Jenny. For Jenny’s wedding… if she’d ever set a date.
Becky Lee took a sip of the tea and the hard-won relaxation that she’d been waiting for all day settled over her, then she frowned. She’d forgotten to tell Izzy about that Madeline woman and her letter. Well, she’d tell her when she got back in town.
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