Marjorie McClelland lives a quiet life in Ridgebury, a small town – think Jessica Fletcher’s hometown from Murder, She Wrote – where nothing exciting has happened in years. As a fairly successful mystery novelist, Marjorie’s profession and independent streak often put her at odds with some of Rid...
In 2004, when the market was at its peak, the two-story building accommodated six agents, two secretaries, and a receptionist. Today, the second floor had been rented out as an apartment, and the only individuals working on the main floor were an aged, somewhat cantankerous receptionist and Alice...
“Looks like a bad sprain, miss, but it should be better in a few days if you stay off of it.” He displayed a reassuring smile and went back to work. Marjorie tried hard to reciprocate, but all she could do was shiver, despite the coarse woolen blanket draped over her shoul...
Marjorie ran to the large walnut secretary where she kept the sonorous black instrument and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”“Hello,” the operator replied. “Long distance for Miss Marjorie McClelland.”“This is Miss McClelland.”“Thank you, Miss McClelland. Please hold while I connect your call.”“Go...
“I feel like I’m in The Great Gatsby,” Griselda declared. “What with the view of the harbor and the docks and the two of us out here in our formal dresses, drinking cocktails.” “You read The Great Gatsby?” Marjorie asked in surprise. “Yeah, you thin...
As she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, the concerned faces of her mother and Katie crystallized through the fog. “Ma? What are you doing here?” Rosie sat up and ran her hands over her face. Standing just over five feet tall and weighing in at one hundred and thirty pounds, sixty-two-year-old E...