Larkspur Road Read Online Free

flames, the tradition of long-lasting marital bliss had seemed to go up in smoke as well.
    Not only had Henry run off with a barmaid when Mia’s mother was a little girl, never to be seen again, but Mia’s father had frequently cheated, and her mother had time and again taken him back. Each time, she’d vowed never to let the man set foot inside the house again, and each time, she’d allowed him to return on the “condition” of a fresh start.
    “I’m sorry for this news,” Ellis continued, her words yanking Mia back to the present with a start. “But your aunt was brought in to the hospital last night.”
    “Winona?” Mia swung her legs to the ground, her amber eyes locking on Ellis’s face.
    Sensing something was up, Samson lifted his furry head.
    “She’s not…She’s all right, isn’t she?”
    “Oh, she’s not dead, that’s for sure. Everyone in town knows Winny Pruitt’s too mean to die.” The instant the words came out of her mouth, Ellis looked abashed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make a joke of it. She
is
your aunt, after all.”
    Not that anyone can tell,
Mia thought. Everyone knew Mia’s great-aunt—her grandmother’s sister—wanted nothing to do with any member of her family.
    Nor, for that matter, with anyone in Lonesome Way. The woman was the town loner, a self-imposed hermit. She kept to herself, rarely speaking to another soul, except for her neighbor, Abner Floyd, whose dilapidated farm bordered her cabin.
    Winny was an enigma. On the few occasions when Mia had spotted her aunt in town over the past years and greeted her, Gram’s younger sister had nodded brusquely, her eyes as cold as mountain snow. Then she’d turned away without uttering a word.
    She did the same with everyone in Lonesome Way and most people had stopped bothering to try to speak to her on the rare occasion when she ventured into town for groceries or supplies.
    Mia had no idea what had caused Gram and Winny to stop speaking to each other years ago, since even up until the day she died, Gram had refused to discuss it.
    All Mia knew was that Winny had never come to a single Sunday dinner or Fourth of July barbecue, had never exchanged a birthday card or even a phone call with Gram as far back as Mia and her own older sister, Samantha, could remember.
    Aunt Winny hadn’t even come to Gram’s funeral. Which shouldn’t have been a surprise because she hadn’t come to the graveyard service for Mia’s parents several years before that either, after their car spun out in the worst blizzard of the decade.
    “What’s wrong with Winny? Is she sick?”
    Mia knew she wasn’t under any obligation to feel concern for her great-aunt—after all, it was Winny who’d made the decision to part ways with her family and she’d rigidly stuck to it. But it had always disappointed her that even when she’d made overtures—inviting her aunt to dinner or driving out to her cabin on Sweetwater Road to bring her a Christmas gift the year after Gram died—her aunt had stonily refused to open her door, much less even a fraction of her heart, to her only remaining family.
    Whatever had happened between Gram and her sister when they were younger had caused a permanent rift, and all of Mia’s overtures had been summarily rejected.
    “Seems she tripped over a loose board on her front porch. Had a pretty nasty fall—sprained her foot real bad. She’ll be using a cane for a while. Wasn’t none too happy about it either,” Ellis added with an arch of her eyebrows. “She nearly snapped Doc Grantham’s head off when he told her she’d need that cane for at least three or four weeks. She’s lucky it wasn’t any more serious—she could have broken a hip or an arm—or worse.”
    “Thanks for telling me, Ellis.” Mia jumped to her feet, her coffee mug gripped in one hand as she set Samson down on the porch with the other.
    “I know that look.” Ellis studied her. “You’re thinking about going out to Sweetwater Road, trying