The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

spring air, still tinged with some of winter’s lingering coolness, and wondered if she was truly ready to put the pain of her broken heart behind her and begin living her life again.
    She picked a piece of tobacco from the tip of her tongue and flicked it onto the ground. Her eyes became fixated on the glowing end of her cigarette. Bending down, she crushed it out in the gravel and spent several moments crouched there, observing the spent stub. “I really wish I could kick this damn habit.”
    Searching in her pocket for a tissue in which to wrap the cigarette butt, Cooper’s fingers closed around the Hope Street brochure. She gazed at the words of welcome printed on the front cover for several moments.
    “Should I go?” she whispered to the first evening star. “Could you send me a sign?” When the only response she received was a tickle on the cheek by a momentary breeze, she slowly walked back toward the house.
     
    • • •
     
    The workweek flew by and Cooper nearly forgot about both Brooke Hughes and Hope Street. She and her mother spent most of Saturday preparing the vegetable and herb beds behind the house for planting. Together they weeded, tilled, and mixed compost with the soil, which was still damp from the previous evening’s rain.
    Earl Lee also spent the mild spring day outside. He mowed the lawn, replaced rotted posts on the split-rail fence, and tinkered around in the garage, undoubtedly trying to coax his ’71 Chevy Malibu back to life.
    When the family reconvened for dinner, Earl spoke a quick blessing before they ate. He’d barely finished before Grammy Lee launched into a tirade over being served soft tacos with refried beans.
    “What’s this mush?” she demanded of no one in particular. “I still got my teeth, ya know.” She plucked her dentures from her mouth and waved them around for everyone to see. “How about a nice piece of meat—one you gotta cut with a knife, not slurp up like pig slop?”
    “We had rib eyes earlier this week, Grammy,” Maggie said calmly. “You know we can’t have steak all the time. They’re too expensive.”
    “At least tomorrow’s Sunday,” Grammy mumbled, glaring at her plate with her cataract-clouded eyes. “That means ham or bacon.” She took a bite of beans and grimaced. “You at least gonna make some cinnamon rolls?” she asked Maggie.
    “From scratch,” Maggie replied cheerfully, passing her husband a bowl of shredded cheese. Cooper was amazed by how her mother was able to listen to Grammy’s cantankerous remarks without ever getting ruffled.
    “So I see you’re goin’ to church tomorrow, girlie.” Grammy pointed her fork at Cooper. “What brought this on? You got a cravin’ to listen to those tone-deaf songbirds with us, Granddaughter? I don’t think there’s a single member under fifty. You’d best go where the young folks are.” She cackled and then went on to remind them that she had been married for twenty years, a mother for fifteen years, and the owner of her own farm stand for ten years by the time she turned thirty-five.
    “How’d you know I was planning to go to church tomorrow?” Cooper asked in surprise. “I only made up my mind a little while ago while I was working in the garden.”
    “How did I know?” Grammy guffawed, spraying the table in front of her with bits of refried beans. “Because my room is right next to the washin’ machine. You left the iron out to cool down and you haven’t ironed anythin’ since you graduated from high school.” She took a sip of iced tea and choked down the rest of the beans. “I figured you were either goin’ to church or on a date.” She gave Cooper an assessing glance and made it clear that she didn’t approve of what she saw. “I’m bettin’ on church.”
     
    • • •
     
    Cooper opened the yellow Hope Street brochure and read it over for the tenth time.
    “I wonder if Brooke’s here today,” Cooper said to her image in the rearview mirror and then