Read Online Going to the Chapel: A Novella by Rita Herron - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rita Herron
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here at the inn.”
Izzy considered the idea. “Sure. They would make a nice addition to the gift corner.”
She followed Caroline up the winding staircase to the third floor. “I chose this room as the honeymoon suite,” Caroline said. “It has a private balcony that overlooks the pond out back.”
Izzy admired the antique lace canopy on the four-poster bed and the wedding-ring quilt in ivory and pale blues on the bed. An antique armoire, dressing table complete with a lace skirt, and adjoining bathroom with the claw-foot tub looked elegant, but gave the feel of stepping back in time. Lace curtains, an antique washstand, and plush towels completed the look. “It is a beautiful view. And the quilt is stunning.”
“It actually belonged to one of the women who owns the fabric store.”
Izzy nodded. Too bad she was advertising fairy-tale weddings, promising a lifetime when that kind of magic didn’t exist.
Still . . . Levi and Elsa seemed happy and might prove her wrong.
A seed of jealousy struck her, but she pushed it aside. She would never trust another man, much less marry one. And she’d cried enough tears over the last year to last a lifetime.
All the more reason she needed to make this business work.
Becoming financially stable would give her the freedom and independence she needed to divorce Ray.
Levi hiked down to the creek behind the rental cabin, picked up a stone, and skipped it across the water. Beyond the creek, the mountains rose in jagged peaks. A few lone houses scattered on the edges of the cliffs and ridges, offering the owners a magnificent view of the valley below.
He missed his ranch. Missed the flat land of Texas and his horses and his job.
Was he crazy to miss chasing hardened criminals?
Although he had to admit these rolling hills and mountains were gorgeous. Peaceful and tranquil.
Except investigating Izzy Sassafras and pretending to be a loving fiancé felt . . . wrong.
Since when did you grow a conscience?
If she’d helped Ray LaPone scam money from innocent women, she had to pay.
Frustrated, he strode back up to the cabin, went in, and booted up his computer.
He accessed the information Elsa had sent and studied it.
Ray LaPone was born in Corpus Christi to a single mother who’d been married five times. Each divorce had ended in a settlement that had earned her a profit and a bigger house. So Ray had grown up feeling what—entitled?
Did LaPone’s childhood have something to do with the fact that he was preying on grieving widows?
He skimmed farther and noted that LaPone had no priors, except for a juvie record that was sealed.
His bank account surprisingly held only a couple thousand dollars, a low balance for a man who had allegedly been robbing the country-club set. But he’d most likely set up some offshore accounts they hadn’t yet discovered.
As far as work, employment records were sketchy. LaPone proclaimed to be a salesman for a company called Chem-tech. He clicked on the website and skimmed the summary. The company worked with oil refineries and supposedly was on the edge of new technology that was more environmentally friendly.
Was the company bogus?
He texted Elsa to investigate LaPone’s business, hoping they’d find something concrete to nail the bastard.
Tomorrow when he met with Izzy again, he’d probe for more information on her life in Texas.
If she admitted she was married to LaPone, it would open the door for more questions.
And if she lied, it could mean that she’d wasn’t the sweet, innocent woman she appeared to be, but a conniving thief who’d stabbed her cohort-in-crime in the back.
With the preparations for the inn underway, Izzy picked up some of Lulabelle’s homemade chicken potpie at the diner and ate at the shop so she could finish the sketches she’d promised Levi.
Uner Pinkerton and Nosy Nellie strolled by to peek in the window, and she gave them a friendly wave, determined not to feed the gossip vine. But the
Izzy considered the idea. “Sure. They would make a nice addition to the gift corner.”
She followed Caroline up the winding staircase to the third floor. “I chose this room as the honeymoon suite,” Caroline said. “It has a private balcony that overlooks the pond out back.”
Izzy admired the antique lace canopy on the four-poster bed and the wedding-ring quilt in ivory and pale blues on the bed. An antique armoire, dressing table complete with a lace skirt, and adjoining bathroom with the claw-foot tub looked elegant, but gave the feel of stepping back in time. Lace curtains, an antique washstand, and plush towels completed the look. “It is a beautiful view. And the quilt is stunning.”
“It actually belonged to one of the women who owns the fabric store.”
Izzy nodded. Too bad she was advertising fairy-tale weddings, promising a lifetime when that kind of magic didn’t exist.
Still . . . Levi and Elsa seemed happy and might prove her wrong.
A seed of jealousy struck her, but she pushed it aside. She would never trust another man, much less marry one. And she’d cried enough tears over the last year to last a lifetime.
All the more reason she needed to make this business work.
Becoming financially stable would give her the freedom and independence she needed to divorce Ray.
Levi hiked down to the creek behind the rental cabin, picked up a stone, and skipped it across the water. Beyond the creek, the mountains rose in jagged peaks. A few lone houses scattered on the edges of the cliffs and ridges, offering the owners a magnificent view of the valley below.
He missed his ranch. Missed the flat land of Texas and his horses and his job.
Was he crazy to miss chasing hardened criminals?
Although he had to admit these rolling hills and mountains were gorgeous. Peaceful and tranquil.
Except investigating Izzy Sassafras and pretending to be a loving fiancé felt . . . wrong.
Since when did you grow a conscience?
If she’d helped Ray LaPone scam money from innocent women, she had to pay.
Frustrated, he strode back up to the cabin, went in, and booted up his computer.
He accessed the information Elsa had sent and studied it.
Ray LaPone was born in Corpus Christi to a single mother who’d been married five times. Each divorce had ended in a settlement that had earned her a profit and a bigger house. So Ray had grown up feeling what—entitled?
Did LaPone’s childhood have something to do with the fact that he was preying on grieving widows?
He skimmed farther and noted that LaPone had no priors, except for a juvie record that was sealed.
His bank account surprisingly held only a couple thousand dollars, a low balance for a man who had allegedly been robbing the country-club set. But he’d most likely set up some offshore accounts they hadn’t yet discovered.
As far as work, employment records were sketchy. LaPone proclaimed to be a salesman for a company called Chem-tech. He clicked on the website and skimmed the summary. The company worked with oil refineries and supposedly was on the edge of new technology that was more environmentally friendly.
Was the company bogus?
He texted Elsa to investigate LaPone’s business, hoping they’d find something concrete to nail the bastard.
Tomorrow when he met with Izzy again, he’d probe for more information on her life in Texas.
If she admitted she was married to LaPone, it would open the door for more questions.
And if she lied, it could mean that she’d wasn’t the sweet, innocent woman she appeared to be, but a conniving thief who’d stabbed her cohort-in-crime in the back.
With the preparations for the inn underway, Izzy picked up some of Lulabelle’s homemade chicken potpie at the diner and ate at the shop so she could finish the sketches she’d promised Levi.
Uner Pinkerton and Nosy Nellie strolled by to peek in the window, and she gave them a friendly wave, determined not to feed the gossip vine. But the
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