Kneading to Die Read Online Free Page A

herself baking Nutty’s treats, she’d feel more at home.

Chapter 2
    Somewhere nearby, a rooster cock-a-doodle-dooed . Groggy, Stan forced herself out of the dream. The sound continued. After a moment of utter confusion, she realized it wasn’t a dream. She lived in Frog Ledge now, and roosters lived in her neighborhood. How funny was that!
    If she didn’t let it be funny, it would scare the heck out of her.
    Her next thought: She’d survived her first night. That, in itself, was cause for celebration.
    â€œWe did it, Nutty,” she told the cat, who sat on alert in the window. He was looking for roosters or watching a squirrel. And planning his escape so he could chase either of them. She joined him.
    The Frog Ledge town green stretched across the lazy summer morning. Its grass was lush and dewy and inviting; its gravel path cut through the sheer greenness. Stan opened her window wider and leaned forward, trying to catch that heady summer scent before the heat of the day baked it away.
    Before she could stop herself, she was humming the melody to “ What a Wonderful World. ” Tacky, but so what?
    â€œI guess that’s the theme song for the day,” she said. Nutty seemed unimpressed. He liked contemporary music much better.
    â€œYou’ll have to pick your own, then. I’ve gotta go with the first one that pops into my head.” When her former coworker had educated her on theme songs, that was her main advice: Let it pick you. You’ll know what you need to get through the day. And that’s how it was in corporate America—a whole lot of getting through the day. Maybe here she could find better uses for her theme songs.
    Still humming, she dressed in her new Under Armour running gear before she even went downstairs for coffee. Over the last year her work schedule had been so demanding she had slacked off on working out. Now she was going to run. And ride the bike she’d bought last year and never used. Maybe she’d even train for a triathlon, or one of those crazy races where the participants crawled through the mud under barbed wire. Something to add to her bucket list. The one she’d never had time to create.
    In her new master bathroom she washed her face and twisted her long blond hair into a ponytail. Laced up her pink Pumas and jogged downstairs. She threw veggies, fruit, juice, protein powder and ice into the Vitamix and made her morning smoothie, chugging it down as fast as she could without suffering brain freeze. Deciding to wait on her coffee until she came back, she grabbed her water bottle and iPod and went out the front door.
    Frog Ledge got moving early, even on a Sunday. Walkers and runners had already hit the trail, and a maintenance worker rode an enormous lawn mower around the gazebo. His blades cleared the view for the cluster of signs announcing a special town referendum meeting, a spaghetti dinner, story time at the library and a “Meet Our Town” evening with local vendors.
    Stan crossed the street and began to jog, fitting her earbuds into her ears. She cranked up the volume on her favorite running playlist and focused on breathing so she didn’t get a cramp. It had been ages since she’d allowed time for a morning run. It felt awesome.
    The path was wide enough for two people to pass comfortably. She exchanged waves with other runners. Everyone was so friendly. Completely different than running in her old neighborhood. Between avoiding traffic, construction spilling over onto the sidewalks and snobby shoppers crowding downtown, she’d stopped bothering.
    A Rollerblader whizzed by, artfully dodging walkers and runners. A double stroller followed, a tiny woman jogging behind it. The contraption was so wide that Stan had to dodge into the grass to avoid her as she passed.
    â€œSorry!” the woman called, waving apologetically.
    Stan waved back in a gesture that meant It’s fine. In the process she almost