Starting Over On Blackberry Lane

Dedication (#u20aa6802-cac1-5800-ae3e-871aee65d0ab)

Acknowledgments (#u6bcf77f8-b4aa-56a7-bd5a-a7126c5510da)

Dear Reader (#u1e97db1a-0a1a-57d3-9c15-ec31660850ec)

SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE ICICLES (#u086c647b-fd2c-53a0-ba14-4a6bd569a79b)

Chapter One (#u457c32d2-1ff8-5d31-ab9c-07ed16b372b5)

Chapter Two (#uc38ca20c-bca8-560e-afae-ce5cae87f615)

Chapter Three (#u24f02435-147e-543f-b92a-d4f685d0b2eb)

Chapter Four (#uccfa64d2-10f2-5439-b246-74dee3b94e1d)

Chapter Five (#ub2a91553-e0ea-556e-93fd-8c4892d9b5cb)

Chapter Six (#uc307bf2b-58bf-5417-bff7-01d769ce39bf)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Recipes (#litres_trial_promo)

Apple Stir-Fry (#litres_trial_promo)

Strawberry-Rhubarb Crisp (#litres_trial_promo)

Apple Scones (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#u985a9382-959c-5e4f-9e34-a15202512408)

Cass Wilkes had wanted to liven up her empty-nest existence, but having her dining room ceiling fall in was not on her list of ways to do it. She’d just come home at three in the afternoon from the usual Saturday swamping of customers at her bakery, Gingerbread Haus, with sore feet and a desire for a bubble bath and a cup of chocolate-mint tea. Looking at the water and the soppy chunks of Sheetrock on her dining table and floor, and the white glop everywhere, she now had a desire for something with more of a kick.

Currently there wasn’t anything stronger than cooking sherry in the house. That meant there was only one way to deal with this situation. She walked right back out the door and to her car. Destination: Zelda’s, one of Icicle Falls’ favorite gathering spots, owned by her friend Charley Masters. Charley would give her a Chocolate Kiss, a boozy chocolate number that was one of the restaurant’s specialties, and hopefully she’d also dispatch her husband, Dan, owner of Masters Construction, to deal with the ceiling problem.

Back in her car Cass texted her friend. Emergency. Have Chocolate Kiss ready.

You okay? came the concerned reply.

Yeah, but my house isn’t.

Uh-oh, Charley texted back. Will have drink ready.

On my way.

The restaurant was empty, set up for the evening rush, which would start around five with the sundowner crowd, seniors taking advantage of the early dinner bargains. By six thirty there wouldn’t be an empty seat anywhere, and people would be crowding in, waiting for a table. She was glad it was quiet now. If she had a complete nervous breakdown the only witnesses would be Charley and the staff.

True to her word, Charley was at a booth in the back of the restaurant with a Chocolate Kiss martini set at Cass’s place, along with a plate of nachos. “The crisis kit,” she said, stealing a cheese-drenched chip. “Chocolate, booze and carbs.”

Cass slid into the banquette. “Bless you.” She took a sip of her drink and then dived into the nachos. “I so needed this. Well, not my butt.” That seemed to be ever expanding. “My soul, for sure.”

“What’s wrong at your house? Did your rotting deck finally fall in?”

“Worse than that. Half my dining room ceiling is now sitting on the table.” Grandma’s dining table. Her grandmother had given her that when she first bought her house in Icicle Falls. She only used it on holidays but it had huge sentimental value. If not for the protective pad and a tablecloth it would have been completely ruined.

Good friend that she was, Charley looked properly horrified. “Oh, no.”