Page 2 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
“Well, I’ll be,” Georgie Conner gasps, her silver hair pulled into a haphazard bun and secured with what looks like a crochet hook pressed into emergency hair duty, and sure enough, she’s wearing one of her signature kaftans. This one happens to be brown with bright orange pumpkins printed all over it. If anything, she likes to keep her fashion sense relegated to a seasonal theme. “If it isn’t the little Janglewood girl herself. However, I suppose not so little anymore. Look at you, Toots, with your fiery red hair and hot-to-trot body, you look like you’re living the dream.”
“Eh.” I shrug.
I’d be living the dream if the dream included a newly cheating spouse and nowhere to call home.
And rounding out the trio behind the counter is the owner of this place, Bizzy Baker Wilder, with her dark hair pulled into a messy bun in a way that somehow looks effortlessly chic rather than like she stuck her finger into an electrical socket. Meanwhile, her big blue eyes can’t seem to stop widening in surprise.
“Josie!” Bizzy rushes around the counter. “What on earth areyou doing here? With luggage and—” her eyes drop to the orange fluffball in my arms “—a very handsome cat?”
I draw a deep breath, rehearsing the speech I’ve recited in my head a hundred times. “So. Clyde—my husband Clyde?—”
“The financial advisor turned podcast guru?” Georgie interjects. Suffice it to say, Georgie has always had a pulse on the men in the area.
“Yep. That’s the one,” I confirm. “Let’s just say I caught him in a rather compromising position with his yoga instructor. A cute blonde who weighs less than a candy cane and is twice as bendy.”
“Not downward dog?” Ree gasps.
“More like the human pretzel with a side of betrayal. But downward dog, too,” I say, doing my best to sound breezy and not like someone who just dry-heaved in her mouth at the mental image. “Turns out, yoga wasn’t just about flexibility—it was training for infidelity.”
“Thatslimeball,” Georgie huffs. “I never liked him. His bicuspids were too symmetrical. Can’t trust a man with teeth that perfect. I just knew he was compensating for something.”
“Yeah,” Ree agrees. “Compensating for good judgment.”
“Sounds like the idiot was bending more than just his ethics.” Georgie shakes her head. “So, what happened? You kicked the cheating cad out, I hope?”
Chip flicks his tail.I warned you. Anyone who uses the phrasecrypto cleansecan’t be trusted.
I shift Chip in my arms, who seems to be growing impatient with being the center of attention without receiving any actual attention.
Put me down. I need to sniff the black and white striped cat. My immediate assessment is required. Plus, she might know where the snacks are around here.
“Actually, the cheating cad refused to leave,” I go on. “He said since he’s the primary breadwinner, he has more right to the house than I do,” I explain, absently scratchingChip’s ears in an effort to placate him. “So, I grabbed Chip, packed my things, and embarked on a six-hour self-discovery journey that mostly led to road rage and bad sushi.”
“You’ve been driving in circles for six hours?” Bizzy asks, her eyes sympathetic.
I give a little shrug. “I was hoping to figure out my life. So far I’ve come up with—one, my marriage is over. Two, I have a couple of daughters in college who are more or less devastated. And three, I probably shouldn’t have eaten gas station sushi at hour four of my emotional breakdown road trip. Let’s just say that caused a lot of unexpected bathroom breaks. And now I regret that sushi on a cellular level. And my marriage to Clyde.”
“Oh, honey.” Ree’s maternal instincts kick in as she comes around the counter. “You’ll stay here at the inn, of course. For as long as you need. On the house.”
“I don’t want to impose?—”
“Impose?” Bizzy cuts me off. “You’re family, Josie. Of course, you’re staying here. All pets are welcome, too. And I’m not taking a dime from you.” She smiles down at the fifty-pound feline in my arms. All right, so he just feels like fifty pounds, but believe me, he’s well on his way. “Who is this little orange cutie? Did you say Chip?”
“Yup. This is Chip,” I say. “The only male in my life not on my blacklist. For now.”
I’m not the one who drove six hours in a circle. I can come up with a blacklist of my own, you know.
I wrinkle my nose his way in lieu of an apology. I’ll make it up to him in treats. Come to think of it, that’s pretty much the way to get into any man’s good graces.
“Oh, hon.” Ree offers me a quick embrace. “You’re not imposing. You’re reclaiming your sanity. Suite 204 is yours. It has a kitchenette and a wine-friendly cabinet.”
Georgie nods. “And it overlooks the cove. It’s our bestbreakup suite. Comes with tissues and a mini freezer for emergency ice cream.”
Chip rolls his eyes.I hope it comes with a blanket. I’m allergic to melodrama.
“Oh hush, you love a good cry,” I mutter his way.
Bizzy squints at me for a moment. “Well, he is gorgeous,” she says, then turns to scoop up the sleek black and white cat sitting on the reception counter. “And this is Fish. She’s our resident welcoming committee.”
