Carla Neggers - The Cabin

Praise for the novels of CARLA NEGGERS Neggerss characteristically brisk pacing and colorful characterizations sweep the reader toward a dramatic and ultimately satisfying denouement. Publishers Weekly on The Cabin Tension-filled story line that grips the audience from start to finish. Midwest Book Review on The Waterfall Carla Neggers is one of the most distinctive, talented writers of our genre. Debbie Macomber Neggers delivers a colorful, well-spun story that shines with sincere emotion. Publishers Weekly on The Carriage House A well-defined, well-told story combines with well-written characters to make this an exciting read. Romantic Times on The Waterfall Gathers steam as its tantalizing mysteries explode into a thrilling climax. Publishers Weekly on Kiss the MoonAlso by CARLA NEGGERS THE RAPIDS NIGHTS LANDING COLD RIDGE THE HARBOR STONEBROOK COTTAGE THE CARRIAGE HOUSE THE WATERFALL ON FIRE KISS THE MOON CLAIM THE CROWN Watch for CARLA NEGGERSSnext novel of romantic suspense DARK SKY CARLA NEGGERS ACKNOWLEDGMENT One of the great pleasures in finishing a book is getting the chance to express my gratitude to the many generous, knowledgeable people who took time from their own busy schedules to answer my questions. Publishers Weekly on Kiss the MoonAlso by CARLA NEGGERS THE RAPIDS NIGHTS LANDING COLD RIDGE THE HARBOR STONEBROOK COTTAGE THE CARRIAGE HOUSE THE WATERFALL ON FIRE KISS THE MOON CLAIM THE CROWN Watch for CARLA NEGGERSSnext novel of romantic suspense DARK SKY CARLA NEGGERS ACKNOWLEDGMENT One of the great pleasures in finishing a book is getting the chance to express my gratitude to the many generous, knowledgeable people who took time from their own busy schedules to answer my questions.

Christine Wenger not only answered every question I put to hershe made calls for me, read me penal codes, fact-checked and was an all-around pal who never told me to go away. (Well, she did, but I didnt take her seriously!) My wonderful friend Dorice Nelson and her husband, Shel Damsky, opened their gorgeous home to me and showed me the history and landscape of the Adirondacks as Ive never seen them beforeincredible! Im also grateful to Kathy Lynn and Sandy Emerson, Gretchen Neggers, Joe Rebello, Maggie Price, Sandi Kitt, Julie Kistler and two incredibly courteous and knowledgeable Texas Rangers for answering law enforcement questions. Many thanks also to Meena Cheng for talking money with me. Blythe Jewell Gander, Jo-Ann Power, Mary Lynn and Len Baxter and all my family and many friends in Texas thanks for everything. Finally, I want to thank everyone at MIRA Booksespecially Valerie Gray, Amy Moore-Benson and Dianne Moggyand Meg Ruley, my amiable and wonderful agent. Of course, any mistakes Ive made and liberties Ive taken are my doing.

This is a story of pure fiction, straight out of my imagination, and I couldnt have had more fun writing it. Watch for Sam Temples story next! Carla Neggers P.O. Box 826 Quechee, Vermont 05059 www.carlaneggers.com To Kate Jewell of central Vermont, Elizabeth Cesarini of middle Tennessee, Mikisha Doop of west Tennessee and Nicole Carbrera of southeast Texas who all came together on that frightening July Fourth weekend in western Massachusetts, and made it through. Youre an inspiration. Love you all, Mom/Carla One Susanna Galway sipped her margarita and watched the countdown to midnight on the television above the bar at Jims Place, the small, dark pub just down the street from where she lived with her grandmother and twin teenage daughters. It had been a fixture in the neighbor hood for as long as Susanna could remember.

An hour to go. Thered be fireworks, a new year to celebrate. It was a clear, dark, very cold night in Boston, with temperatures barely in the teens, but thousands had still gone out to enjoy the many First Night festivities. Jim Haviland, the pubs owner, eyed Susanna with open suspicion. He made no secret that he thought she should have gone back to her husband in Texas months ago. And Susanna didnt disagree.

But, still, she hadnt gone home. Jim laid a sparkling white bar towel on one of his powerful shoulders. Youre feeling sorry for yourself, he told her. She licked salt off her glass. It was warm in the bar, and she wished she hadnt opted for cashmere. Silk 8Carla Neggers would have been better.

Shed been determined to feel a little bit elegant tonight. But Jim had already told her she looked like the Wicked Witch of the East coming in there in her black skirt, sweater and boots, with her long black hairapparently only her very green eyes saved her. Her coat was black, too, but shed hung it up and tucked her black leather gloves in her pocket before slid ing onto her stool. She hadnt bothered with a hat since the bar was only a few doors down from Grans house. I never feel sorry for myself, she said. I looked at all my choices for the evening and decided Id like noth ing better than to ring in the New Year with one of my fathers oldest friends.

Jim snorted. I know bullshit when I hear it. Susanna smiled at him, unrepentant. You make a pretty good margarita for a Yankee. She set her glass down. Why dont you make me another? Okay, but twos your limit.

Youre not passing out in my bar. Im not calling your Texas Ranger husband and telling him I let his wife fall off one of my bar stools and hit her head Such drama. Im not getting myself drunk, and youd call Gran, not Jack, because Grans just up the street, and Jacks in San Antonio. And I know youre not the least bit intimidated because hes a Texas Ranger. Jim Haviland gave her a half smile. Sixty-eight de grees in San Antonio.

Susanna refused to let him get to her. He was the fa ther of her best friend in Boston, her own fathers boy hood friend and a surrogate uncle to her these past fourteen months since shed been on her own up north. The Cabin9 He was opinionated, solid and predictable. Are you going to make me that margarita? she asked. You should be in Texas with your family. I had Maggie and Ellen for Thanksgiving.

Jack has them for Christmas and New Years. Jim scowled. Sounds like youre divvying up dibs on the neighborhood snowblower. It doesnt snow in San Antonio, Susanna said with an easy smile. Shed put an imaginary, protective shield around her to get her through the night, and she was de termined nothing would penetrate itnot guilt, not fear, not thoughts of the only man shed ever loved. She and Jack had done the holidays together last year.

That hadnt worked out very well. Their emotions were still too raw, neither ready to talk. Not that her husband was ever ready to talk. You know, Jim said, if I were Jack If you were Jack, youd be investigating serial kill ers instead of making me margaritas. What fun would that be? She pushed her glass across the bar toward him. Come on.

A nice, fresh margarita. You can reuse my glass. Hold the salt this time if you want. Ill hold the liquor before I hold the salt, and Im not reusing your glass. Health laws. There are six other bars within walking distance, Susanna said.

I have on my wool socks. I can find somebody to serve me another margarita. They all use mixes. But Jim Haviland didnt call her bluff. He snatched up her empty glass and set it on a tray, then grabbed a fresh glass. His bar was impeccably clean.

He offered 10Carla Neggers one nightly dinner special and kept an eye on his cus tomers, running his bar in strict accordance with Mas sachusetts law. People didnt come to Jims Place to get drunkit was a true neighborhood pub, as old-fash ioned as its owner. Susanna had always felt safe there, welcomed even when Jim was on her case and she wasnt at her nicest herself. I shipped Iris and her pals up a gallon of chili, he said. How do you like that? Even your eighty-two year-old grandmothers having more fun on New Years than you are. Theyre playing mahjong until five minutes after midnight.