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A Misty Mourning (Torie O'Shea Mysteries) [Rett MacPherson] on leondumoulin.nl *​FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. A ten-hour car trip with your.
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To the left and the right of the house were brilliant green pastures that narrowed as the mountains closed in upon the postcard valley. A two-lane road ran in front of the boardinghouse, and the Gauley River ran in front of that. On the other side of the river were gently sloped mountains plunging into the river. I loved these mountains. I loved the entire Appalachian range from Alabama to Maine. They were comfortable mountains, like a well-used baseball glove.

Soft, smooth, gentle slopes seemed to wedge themselves snugly into the land around them. The boardinghouse, on the other hand, was not nearly so pleasing to the eye. It was a large two-story building with what looked like an attic in the center above the second story. There was dingy white latticework, about three feet high, all the way around the porch of both floors. The floor of the porch was a slate-blue, as was the trim on all the windows.

A Misty Mourning | Rett MacPherson | Macmillan

The building itself was supposed to be white, but the paint was so old that it gave the building an overall grey look. In the center of the building, below the pointed roof, was a white latticework star. The fact that it was early evening and the sun was almost behind the mountain that sat directly behind the boardinghouse added to the overall dingy grey appearance of the building. My grandmother smiled faintly. Yeah, she said. My grandmother had actually worked at this boardinghouse when it was owned by the company. Meaning, the Panther Run Coal Company, during the late twenties and early thirties.

She was a small girl at the time, but I remember her vivid tales of having to get up at three in the morning to fix the coal miners their breakfasts and pack their pail lunches. Then she had to go on to school after that! Gert and I got out of the car and stretched.

Misty Mourning (original music)

My back was killing me. It felt like it had a horse sitting on it. I opened the trunk of the car to get the suitcases out just as a high-pitched scream erupted from somewhere within the building. Gert gave a little jump, as did I. The noise got louder and louder until it burst through the front door of the boardinghouse. A teenage girl ran out of the building to the edge of the porch and jumped over the latticework into the yard.

About ten seconds later came an older man, probably about seventy, who thrust through the door, down the steps, and around the boardinghouse after her. Just as we made it to the steps with our suitcases, the teenager jumped up into the air and over the latticework on the opposite end of the porch.

KILLING COUSINS: A Torie O'Shea Mystery

Unfortunately, her thonged foot became hooked on the lattice railing and she went splat on her stomach onto the porch floor. The seventy-year-old man came around the boardinghouse now, huffing and puffing. He stopped at the steps, bent over at the knees catching his breath, right in front of us. His glasses came tumbling out of his shirt pocket and fell onto the steps.

Titles In This Series (10)

The teenage girl had now come to her feet. She stood up, tears running down her face. By this point, Gert and I were standing on the steps. By the amount of tears she had shed, it was obvious that her heart was broken. She wore those wonders of all retro wonders, faded bell-bottom jeans, a tie-dyed shirt, a hemp bracelet and choker, and a big silver nose ring. Her hair was nearly to her butt, bright strawberry-red, with little braids pulled back from her temples.

What do you care? Excuse me, I interrupted. Both the man and his granddaughter actually looked at me for the first time. This is the Panther Run Boardinghouse, correct? The man let out a whoop and a holler, and went over to my grandmother and squeezed the daylights out of her with a big bear hug. Lordy, Gertie Crookshank! He then turned to me. Of course, she was Gertie Seaborne when I ran with her. My grandmother steadied herself with her cane and studied the man closely.

Well, Lafayette Hart, you old geezer. You look as pretty as the day Sam Crookshank ran off into the mountains with you, he said. Ran off into the mountains? I asked. Gert, what is he talking about? That Sam, the man went on. Now he knew what he wanted in a woman. And none of them simpering misses stoked his far, if you know what I mean. It was no surprise to me that the teenage girl had taken this opportune moment to run into the boarding-house and away from her grandfather.

I was wanting to do the same thing. Why of course, he said. Let me get them bags for you. An hour later Gert and I were seated at an elongated table in the dining room with six other people, including Clarissa Hart, the one-hundred-and-one-year-old woman who had invited me to this place. The food was served in clear cut-glass serving dishes, which sat in the middle of the table on top of ivory-colored doilies. On my right was my grandmother, and on my left was the teenage fugitive from earlier.

The problematic nose ring was still defiantly in place. It seemed as though Danette had arrived with her. Upload Sign In Join. Save For Later. Create a List. Summary A ten-hour car trip with your eighty-year-old grandmother is never much fun, especially if you're seven months pregnant. Read on the Scribd mobile app Download the free Scribd mobile app to read anytime, anywhere. Should be a week, I said.


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Oh, please. You ready, Gert? I asked her.

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I have always called her Gert or Granny Gert. Try not to fight with your sister. Be good, I said and kissed her.


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    6. Be good, my mother said to me. Funny how that stuff gets recycled. Me, give her a hard time? I love you, he said. I love you, too. I honked as I pulled away, watching Rudy wave through my rearview mirror. Gee, I said.

    Misty Mourning

    Does this look anything like what you remember? Gert gave me a quizzical look. I shrugged. Oh, let me get that, I said and stepped up to help him. Now give me that ring! What will your great-grandma say when she sees it? You couldn't call it a fun family dinner -- at least Torie can't, since she gets a resentful glare from almost everyone present.