Thirteen Chances Read Free Page A

imaginary brakes as the vehicle squeaked between an ancient stone wall and a big delivery truck. She couldn’t stand it. She closed her eyes.
    A giggle erupted from the driver.
    Cracking open an eye, Emma peeked at the sweet old thing driving. Millicent Ballaster, one of the owners of the manor house where she was booked. At least they’d offered her a ride. And the sweet old gal had nearly squeezed the life out of her with a fierce hug when she’d first met her at the luggage carriage. With a carefree grin plastered across her wrinkled cheeks, old Millie barely gripped the wheel with one hand.
    “Open your eyes, girlie. No need to worry.” She patted the car’s dash with pride. “Quite reliable, this old heap.”
    It wasn’t the old heap she was worried about. It was her
life.
Emma tightened her grip on the cushion and gave a slight laugh. “Oh, uh, I’m sure it is.”
Oh my God! I’m not going to make it to Arrick-by-the-Sea in one piece!
    It was the longest two hours of her entire life.
    Soon they turned off the single track road they’d been traveling on and onto an even narrower road. They made two corners, and then the
old heap
began to climb. Tall trees lined the path on either side, so it wasn’t until the road leveled and the car stopped climbing that Arrick-by-the-Sea came into view.
    Emma’s breath hitched in her throat, and her heart slammed against her ribs.
    “Quite the sight, eh love?” Millicent said.
    The car had barely stopped when Emma opened the door and slowly climbed out. “Quite,” she whispered.
    Then she simply took in the view.
    They’d parked in front of a lovely stone manor house, situated off to the right of the path leading to Arrick’s castle ruins. Three stories high and the length of a football field, the manor was by no means a small estate. Bold red and pink geraniums overflowed stone containers on either side of the massive wooden double doors, and according to the Web site, it’d been built in the seventeenth century but had fallen into disrepair.
    It was now lovingly renovated and absolutely beautiful. Behind the manor, a maze made of rowan bushes, at least as tall as Emma, sat in a big square. Millie had told her a big fountain sat in its center. She’d have to check that out later.
    Emma’s gaze then moved back to the narrow path that meandered up the sea cliff.
    And to the castle ruins perched right at the edge.
    Once again, her breath hitched.
    Without really thinking, she began to walk in that direction. She’d made it only a few feet before the doors to the manor swung wide-open and three older women bustled out. They huddled around Millicent and simply stared at Emma. Finally one of the women, pleasantly plump with a sweet face and red hair, clapped her hands together and smiled.
    “Welcome to the Ballaster House B and B! I’m Willoughby and, oh my! You are such a lovely thing! We are ever so happy to have you here!” she said. As one big huddle, the four women moved toward Emma, and Willoughby continued. “We are the Ballaster sisters. Millicent, you’ve met.”
    “And thankfully survived her atrocious driving,” said the tall, willowy sister in the middle of the huddle. She grinned. “I’m Maven.”
    “And I am Agatha,” said the shortest sister, wringing her hands and all but jumping up and down in place like a Jack Russell wanting to play fetch. “Indeed, we are so verra pleased you’re here.” That last sentence came out on a squeak.
    Willoughby gave a wide smile. “We’ve been eager for your arrival, dear. Quite eager, indeed!”
    Emma gave each sister a smile. “Thank you for such a wonderful welcome,” she said, wondering just briefly why the heck they were so happy to see her. Perhaps business was slow this time of year?
    Then Emma’s gaze drifted back to the ruins. The weathered stone of the gatehouse stood stark against the gray-blue sea behind it. The cavernous mouth where a steely-toothed portcullis used to be housed yawned