Chapter 89: Newswoman

The kitchen seemed an oasis, empty without Betty Jones puttering around preparing for afternoon tea. Good thing the whole town was still in an uproar. I'd have to turn people away from our new ritual, one that seemed to have generated a great deal of enthusiastic support from locals since we started it last year.

I stared out the kitchen windows into the backyard, trying to pull myself together and failing miserably. My mind kept drifting back to being in the carriage, the towering form of Skip falling in slow, mountainous motion on top of me. Chances are I'd be in for some lovely nightmares the next little while-if not the rest of my freaking life. Good thing I had Petunia to hug at night when the terrors came to roost.