Unbelievable. One day my husband sauntered into the kitchen and handed me divorce papers. Divorce papers. Like he’d just made me a cup of coffee. “Here honey, I made it just how you like it. With a splash of alimony and a spoonful of child support.”
And he did it right after my parents died.
Classy move, but then again, I’m the one who married the guy.
I packed up my son and ninety-nine percent of our belongings and took the high road straight out of Birmingham and back to my hometown and my childhood home in Castleberry Georgia.
I’ve got a new job as the head of the Castleberry Georgia Historical Society. It wouldn’t be easy, and that was just fine with me. I needed a distraction. Being home comforted my aching, angry heart, and having a job along with caring for my son gave me purpose.
But guess what? The Universe had another idea.
A tumble down a flight of stairs and a bump on the head might not have hindered my rehabbing the historical presence in town, but the ghosts I saw after? They’re another story entirely. And finding the dead body of the town’s BBQ king just days before the annual BBQ competition put me right in the local detective’s hot seat, a place I hadn’t been in a long, long time. And the reunion didn’t turn out how I’d pictured yeard ago.
I’m not sure which is worse, being accused of murder or claiming a spirit might have had something to do with it.
Now I’ve got to save myself from a life behind bars or a stay in the psychiatric ward, figure out this ghost thing, raise my child to be a normal, functional adult, and still get the competition going on time. Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.