Dianne Freeman

Why does it always happen that just when I begin to feel life simply couldn’t get any better, fate drops a disaster into my path to prove me right?

The first twinges of apprehension tickled the back of my neck like icy fingers.

I gave her a slow-burning glare, intended to make her cringe, or at least take her criticism elsewhere. It didn’t work. Hetty was immune to glares, mine or anyone else’s. As my father’s sister, she shared his pragmatic nature, dark hair and eyes, and the uncanny ability to make money from anything.