of The Cowherd Whiskey Owner Cursed Like Jane Austen’s Ghost: A True Love Story of Darcy Finally Revealed.”
I skim the story. Skip wasn’t kidding when he said he painted me as a heroine. I’m described as “the feisty but lovely Macey Henwood, who doesn’t pull any punches.
“She’s a straight shooter, actual Target Champion of Hunt County, who sacrificed college for the sake of her family’s bar and now has to pay the price for cohabitating in such close quarters with the ghost of Jane Austen.
“Due to a permanent scar she suffered in a mysterious accident, and corroborated by a page in Vivian Elmstock Haskins’s diary (see below), Ms. Henwood’s future is tied to Ms. Austen’s. If the spirit of the British romance author is not freed of her spell by this July fourth, Ms. Henwood will forever lose her chance at love with her own Mr. Darcy.”
“And you might want to call Mama.” Ben picks up a chair. “Just a suggestion.”
I chase him across the room as he carries the chair back to its proper location. “How mad is she?”
“On a scale of one to ten? I’d say a thousand.”
I bang my hand against my forehead. “Crap.”
“You’re going to be famous. For the next six hours, at least, until Logan and Gigi take over the attention again at their barbecue.”
“That’s weird because I don’t have any calls…” I look down at my phone. “Oh. Because it’s dead. Well, I just won’t charge it. Let the nosy reporters reach voicemail.”
“What’s all the cursed stuff about?” Ben takes a seat at the nearest booth.
I sit across from him and pull at my purse strap awkwardly. “I thought you said you read the story. Everything’s in there.”
“So Mama found a clue in Vivian’s diary about the eldest daughter being scarred, and that convinced her—”
“Yep.” I flip my wrist over. “We all know where this came from. But Mama thinks the ghost and I became linked that night. Anyway, I came here to talk to you. So how would you feel if this”—I gesture around the bar with my arm—“was yours?”
Ben’s mouth twists in confusion.
“You finish your degree,” I say. “And then you take over The Cowherd. While you’re in school, you can run it in the summers and on vacations, and I’ll watch it for you until then.”
He grins. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. If you say yes, I’ll ask Daddy.”
“I don’t know if he’ll agree. He has his heart set on you taking it over.”
“Well, things change.”
I tell Ben I’ve finished my manuscript, and he picks me up and spins me around the bar until I’m dizzy. Then, he puts me down and whispers, “You about ready to hand over your quarter?”
“What?”
“Logan’s wedding. My bet still stands.”
I stare at him. “I didn’t bet, remember? Plus, everything’s so far along…”
“Say what you want”—Ben pulls a quarter out of his pocket and spins it on the table next to us—“but I only bet when I like the odds.”
When I drop by Ginny’s at six, she flings her door open. “I’ve called you like a hundred times, and it just kept going straight to voicemail!”
“I’m sorry.” I open the passenger door for her. “Ben told me reporters would probably be calling, and I didn’t want to talk.”
“Of course they’ll be calling! What in heaven’s name is this ‘cursed’ headline?” She pulls the paper out of her massive purse. “Ms. Henwood was very open in answering every question asked of her except for how she obtained her scar. One could conjecture it was from an internal family battle, but that is simply conjecture and not fact.” She whips her head over to me as I slide into the driver’s seat. “Your mama is gonna absolutely kill you!”
“Don’t remind me. I have to see her in about five minutes. But I have a back-up plan.” I show Ginny the printed version of Ghost Love. “I’m going to let Mama have the first read.”
“You think that will overpower her feeling of complete betrayal that you told a total stranger a secret only you and she knew? I can’t believe you never even told me!”
I start the SUV up and pull out of Ginny’s driveway. “Okay, maybe I’ll wait a little longer than five minutes to see her. Let’s stop at Sonic and get milkshakes.”
“Great idea. I want to talk to you more about this because”—Ginny looks back down at the paper on her lap—“forever cursed? And lose the freedom to choose your true love? I don’t understand that at