Eleanor Tatum

from Silver Cotton   (available December 10th)

“No!”

That was Kirsten’s last spoken word for ten days. She had frozen during the preparations, the funeral, even the reading of the will. She responded to no one, not the staff, or friends. John or his son would escort her to her room after every meal. No one else was allowed. A cup of her father’s special tea would be poured. She made a point to at least smile before they left her room. Only then would she cry and drain the cup into a failing plant.

The morning of the eleventh day, Kirsten woke to the muffled sounds of conversation coming from the hall. She rolled over and focused on the plant.

“Let her sleep,” her protective butler commanded from the other side of her door. The brief hesitation had Kirsten leaving her bed, putting on her robe over her nightgown. As she reassembled her untidy braid, she knew what had happened. Her plant had died.

She said little, but she did listen. She later learned about the disappearances of most of the company funds, household accounts, art collections, and John and Jared Pettigrew. Kirsten kept busy. Her father had taught her to research. She had received answers to some of her queries concerning their history. Her father had been right. According to Louisiana state law, all she owned had disappeared with her husband, but not all her father owned.

The Pettigrew greed wanted it all.

Time to attack? Kirsten’s ambitious mission allowed a revengeful spirit to flow. Her father had taught her to strategize. She aspired to find her father’s killer, her swindler, and husband. All she had was her theory.