“You and Mac both,” he expanded. “I mean, I was wondering what got banged up on him when he stopped coming in for his… you know…usualitems, but he assured me all was well.” Giving her a look of exaggerated relief, he added, “Thank god. A man would rather die otherwise.”
Cassidy bit her lip. Not her business, not interested. He was probably ordering online.
Babbling on like a teenage girl who hadn’t seen his best friend for a hot minute, Lonnie said, “Everything has been so weird since it happened, too. You haven’t been around. Machasbeen around like you two swapped places… and Darlene sold the bar.”
The last caught her attention. “Wait. What?”
“Oh, yeah. I didn’t even know it was for sale. All I know is there’s some new owner of The Northern.”
“Darlene sold it? Why? Who bought it?”
Lonnie shrugged. “Beats me.”
For once, Lonnie wasn’t a fountain of random knowledge. Cassidy picked up her grocery bag. “I’ll see you later, Lonnie.” She headed toward the front entrance.
“Hey, where ya—? Oh, right,” Lonnie answered his own question and grimaced. “No boat. Forgot. Sorry, Mrs. Teague.”
Cassidy tossed him a half-hearted smile as she pushed out the door.
Chapter fifty-nine
Cassidy
YOUR FOREVER
CassidystaredattheFedEx package on her counter as she sipped her coffee.
It wasn’t from the publisher, but the ghostwriter.
That was unusual. She’d met him once and remembered him vaguely. She hadn’t wanted to get an impression of him.
And now he’d sent her something looking suspiciously like a book—an advance author’s copy. Elijah had one of every book: the final draft for one last read-through to make sure the printers did it right, no typos or paragraphs were missing, etc. The jacket was in creation somewhere, but this should bethe book.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled the Tyvek envelope to herself and ripped it open. A bland-looking hard-backed book and a single sheet of paper slipped out. The ghost writer’s note in his perfect script:
Dear Mrs. Teague—Cassidy,
Hello. Enclosed here, you have discovered a final draft of your husband’s book. I implore you to reread it.
I admit I missed the mark the first time around, and it was brought to my attention. I received additional drafts of his writings, so the added scenes are his, but you will know it by reading it.
Now I realize how disappointed you must have been with the first draft, but I assure you that Elijah is fully present in this version, as is his heart.
Best regards and most profound respect,
The Ghost
Cassidy read the letter more than once, a hand covering her mouth as her heart began to thud in her chest.Additional drafts?She hadn’t sent them anything extra; she’d handed over everything she could find. She hadn’t even been allowed input on the cover.
But her eyes shifted to the book. The “ghost” had made her a promise. Grabbing up the book, she wanted to see if he delivered.
She took her coffee and the book to the sofa and made herself comfortable, sitting cross-legged facing the lake. The day was starting bright and sunny; the light appeared to be extra sparkly on the water. Mac’s boat bobbed at the dock.
Narrowing her eyes at it, she flipped the book open, past the title page, copyright page, and almost skipped theDedicationuntil she saw it took up the entire page. It was signed by Elijah. Her heart leaping into her throat, her eyes went back to the top and read the love letter her husband had written to her—his last one—now in print and about to be shared with the world:
To My Forever,
I am watching you sleep, curled up next to me, your hair cascading over you like a brilliant red waterfall, tumbling down to the most beautiful and luscious lips Nature ever graced a woman with. You are my muse, my goddess, and my salvation, even when you are screaming at me and throwing dishes, books, and singing fish.