Don't Stop Believing (Midlife Mulligan #3) - Eve Langlais Page 0,1

away. Soon, they would take back their power.

And then Leviathan would kill everyone, so he didn’t have to share it.

1

Not long after Christmas, I had the lake monster dream. A thing I used to dread. Now, it saddened me. Maddy, the creature people claimed lived in Cambden’s lake, was gone.

The pebbled beach marching into the water held no ominous shade or shape. No unusual humps or ripples marred the surface of the lake. No more nuclear glowing either.

The monster had passed away, and I missed it. I woke sniffling. Sad.

What is wrong with me? Why would anyone miss the terror that Maddy used to bring? I mean the darned thing used to eat me practically each time I closed my eyes.

Except in my last dream of Maddy, when the beast looked sick and dying. Had my subconscious killed my imaginary beast? Perhaps it was a symbolic thing that had to do with my burgeoning sense of self-empowerment. I’d transformed from a housewife and a doormat. Gotten out of a toxic relationship with a man who despised me.

And I mean despise.

Martin had set my house on fire. With me in it. That kind of left a bitter taste in my mouth, which often flipped into the sour flavor of guilt because I’d yet to give a damn he’d died.

Martin had turned into a mean old man, and I was glad he was gone. Life was better than I could remember. I greeted the day now instead of dreading it.

With that thought, I sprang out of bed, delighted to find the sheets dry. No menopausal sweats in the middle of the night where I was stripping the bed and taking a cold shower. Twice in the last week it happened. Nothing during the day yet. I assumed it was coming and wondered if they had a Jaws-like theme song for the menopause symptoms that liked to pounce at inconvenient times. Although I was digging the silver in my hair. I thought of it as natural highlights.

Joints popped as I stretched, and I jiggled a bit more than a person should as I made my bed. A new thing I’d started doing. I’d spent most of my adult life, say from when I moved out of my grandma’s house until recently, leaving it a mess. Then I discovered the joys of climbing into a neatly made bed. Every morning I now yanked up the sheets and comforter, fluffed my pillow on top, tucked my jammies under it, then walked in my underwear into the bathroom.

Naked and super self-conscious despite being alone. However, a book I’d been reading said feeling more confident meant accepting myself as I was. The whole love-yourself thing, which took effort.

What helped give me a boost was knowing I had a busy day ahead at my store. People on their holiday breaks between Christmas and New Year would be out spending, looking for Boxing Day—now weeklong—deals. I’d printed out some new signs to put in my store overnight.

In the bathroom, I stepped on the scale and blinked at the digital display of a number I’d not seen since my first pregnancy.

My lower lip wobbled. With happiness. It felt good to reach a goal I’d set for myself. Yay for me!

I showered, and blow-dried my silver-streaked hair as I readied for work. Some people might hate their jobs, but I loved mine. There was something exciting about going out in the world and doing something. Supporting myself. Providing to society. Hell, I had to pay taxes! Which some might complain about but to me was a sign of how far I’d come. I didn’t depend on anyone.

I was in charge of me.

Booyah.

Spirits high, I skipped down the stairs, now wider than before. The house had changed to suit me. Although why I’d need a wide set of stairs when it was just me using them was baffling.

Wait. Was my house trying to tell me something?

Things with my kind-of-boyfriend Darryl were heating up. He’d kissed me again when he came by last night with his dog, Herbie, and a fistful of flowers offered with a grin. I might have smiled just as stupidly back before I got slobbered on by the biggest puppy you ever saw.

I laughed like a fiend as Darryl swore, “For fuck’s sake, you mangy mutt. Get off her.”

The commotion brought Winnie, my daughter, who declared the dog her new best friend and then kidnapped him for a walk.

I wondered if Darryl had planned for that to happen since

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