Date Published: 10-22-2026
Publisher: Time At Last Books (Indie)
Cassie Mitchell is juggling the responsibilities of new motherhood and the drama surrounding her sister’s return to Whale Rock while welcoming another tenant to the carriage house. Adding to her worries are the recently discovered letters revealing a stunning confession. Could one of her seven baby brothers, who supposedly died at childbirth, have survived?
Cassie begins unraveling this new family mystery with guidance from the ever-present spirits of her ancestors, the original residents of The Bluffs. However, the fog of pregnancy brain is impeding her deciphering of their messages.
Cassie’s husband, former FBI agent Daniel Benjamin, surprises her with an au pair to help with the baby. But there’s something unnerving about Abbigail Grant, and soon after her arrival, the community is shaken when a body is found sprawled on the rocks near The Bluffs. With the case ruled a homicide, Cassie becomes entangled in the investigation and butting heads with Chief Brooks Kincaid, who is under pressure to solve the case before tourist season begins. A prominent politician appears on the scene, with questions arising over his connection to the victim. And why has the mysterious new owner of the Red Herring estate been nosing around suspiciously?
Can this murder be solved in time to save the summer season? Will Cassie determine if her brother survived? And if he did, will it be a blessing or another curse on the Mitchell family?
BEFORE…
W ell-honed skills were serving her splendidly today, though
even she was amazed by how easy it had been to slip into the exclusive memory
care facility unnoticed. It wasn’t until she reached the door to the patient’s
room that someone stopped her.
“Are you one of the temps?” A tired looking middle-aged
woman in periwinkle nursing scrubs approached.
She turned and smiled, waving a lanyard ID from a private
staffing company.
“I’ve been employed by the family for some extra help with
Ms. French.” She peered at the woman’s badge, Kathy Williams, Nurse Manager,
hoping her luck was not running out.
The nurse’s lips turned down. In suspicion or worry?
It was difficult to tell.
“I have my paperwork somewhere in here.” She began to dig
through her tote bag.
“We are in the midst of a staffing shortage, and some
residents’ families are growing impatient.”
Worry.
“I’m sure the family understands, Kathy.” She smiled
encouragingly, familiarly using the nurse’s first name though she’d yet to be
introduced.
“I hope you’re right. We can’t afford any bad press right
now.” The nurse manager rubbed at the tension lines on her forehead.
She nodded sympathetically. Having done the research, she
was aware that the care facility had recently come under scrutiny by the state
department of health and human services for staffing complaints.
“We prefer to schedule an orientation with the private pay
staff to familiarize you with our rules and regulations.” The nurse’s lips
puckered to one side. “I’m not sure why we weren’t notified.”
“Maybe it fell through the cracks?” Planting the seed of
doubt, she then added, “I can check with the family about delaying my start
date.”
Nurse Kathy mulled this over while ignoring a beeping phone.
She shook her head and said, “It’s probably a blessing you’re here today. With
additional staff shortages, it will be a tremendous help. Mrs. French is a
lovely woman with borderline Stage Four to Stage Five dementia. But you’ve
probably been updated by the family.”
“Indeed.”
Finally, the nurse checked her text message with a deepening
frown.
“I’ve got an emergency on another unit.” She rushed down the
hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “Check with the unit nurse if you have
any problems. And leave your paperwork at the admin office.”
“Will do,” she called back, though knowing she’d be gone
long before anyone could begin to ask questions about the private nurse who
showed up unannounced.
She slipped into the patient’s room where she found a tidily
dressed lady sitting at the window watching the hummingbird feeder.
“Good morning, Mrs. French,” she brightly greeted the woman,
who turned and smiled.
“Is it time for my meds?”
“Not yet. But I do have a present for you.” She reached into
her bag and produced a bakery box. She’d read that certain familiar foods could
trigger a dementia patient to lucidity. “I hear Joe Froggers are your favorite
cookies.”
“Oh yes!” The older woman clapped her hands with delight.
“How did you know?”
“I’m a friend of your son’s.”
“You are? Did he send these?” She was eagerly removing the
cord from the box and didn’t wait for an answer. “When I was young, my family
always stopped at a Marblehead bakery for these on the way to the coast.”
She bit into a cookie; her eyes closed to savor the
pleasure. She then said in a small, sad voice, “It seems so long since he’s
visited.”
“Your son?”
Mrs. French considered this while sampling a second bite of
cookie. “Always busy. Always on the move.”
“He sends his love.” A small lie couldn’t hurt.
“That boy was delivered by an angel.” The aged eyes
brightened.
“Not the stork?” A joke for which there was an unexpected
reward.
“Oh no. We couldn’t.” Mrs. French shook her head then
finished the cookie and delicately dusted the crumbs from her fingers.
“Was your son an infant when you adopted him?” A hazarded
guess.
“It was never official,” she said in a hushed tone.
The hair on her neck tingled at the possibility of
unearthing a secret, but the older woman gave her a suspicious look.
“Are you my new nurse?”
“I’m a friend of your son’s and you were just telling me
about his adoption.”
“Was I?” She stared vacantly at the ceiling for several
seconds before finally saying, “It was providence that brought that special boy
to us.”
“He’s grown into a fine man, no doubt from his upbringing.”
The old woman nodded dreamily before turning deadly serious.
What followed was a trance-like recounting of an incredible tale that could
hold the key to some long-locked doors, but one that also could have been
fabricated by a confused mind. The narration ended suddenly with Mrs. French
shaking free of her fugue of revelation, blinking hard, and gazing about the
room as if trying to determine where she was.
Realizing she wasn’t alone, she narrowed her eyes
suspiciously to ask, “Did Helen Pratt send you?”
“No, I don’t know anyone by that name.” Pointing to the box,
she said, “I brought you the cookies.”
“Helen promised.” It was a whisper but then she became
agitated and reached over to grab the visitor’s arm. With panic in her eyes,
she declared fiercely, “You remind Helen Pratt of her promise.”
“Of course.” Her tone soothing as she gently patted Mrs.
French’s hand while making a mental note of the name. “We were just chatting
about your son.”
A tear slowly slid down the woman’s papery thin cheek before
she turned to study the hummingbirds again. “Is it time for my meds?”
Slipping out of the care facility as surreptitiously as
having entered, not only did she now have a recording of everything Mrs. French
had revealed, but she’d also managed a quick lookback through the visitors’ log
which exposed some unexpected details. She was exhilarated by the first
interesting discoveries she’d made since accepting the assignment and was left
salivating for more details. She couldn’t wait to start digging deeper.
Feeling buoyed by a not so small triumph, she strode easily
to her car, smiling broadly while passing a service van idling in a handicap
spot. Confidence had knocked her off her game, leaving her oblivious to being
in the crosshairs of someone else’s sharp focus.
About the Author
An award-winning author of fiction, Loretta Marion’s writing bridges the genres of mystery, suspense and women’s fiction, always with hints of romance and humor, sometimes delving into the psychological and paranormal. She creates strong but flawed characters as appealing as the rich atmospheric settings in which the stories take place.
A true bibliophile, she has loved reading and creating with words since she was a young girl. That affection for the written word followed her like a shadow throughout her life, but her passion for writing fiction evolved from the unlikely world of hospice. As a volunteer, she established a Legacy Story program to honor and preserve the rich heritage of the fascinating people who were soon to leave this world. The meaningful experience inspired her to create her own interesting characters and stories.
Though born and raised in the Midwest, Loretta fell in love with New England and has made it the setting for much of her writing. When not whipping out words on her laptop, she is traveling, enjoying outdoor pursuits, or is curled up with a delicious new book.
Loretta lives in Rhode Island with her husband, Geoffrey, and their devoted Mr. Micawber, a sweet and amusing German Shepherd Corgi cross
https://mybook.to/LegacyoftheBluffs
No comments:
Post a Comment