Berried Secrets Read Online Free Page A

flabbergasted. She didn’t go anywhere without making plans. Even a trip to the grocery store would be on her to-do list at least twenty-four hours in advance.
    â€œWhere is she going to stay?”
    â€œShe’s got a room at the Cranberry Cove Inn.” Jeff grinned.“The presidential suite probably. If there is such a thing. She’s getting in late so she said she won’t be by until sometime tomorrow. Knowing Mother, that won’t be before noon.”
    Monica pulled the broiler pan from the oven and put it on the top of the stove. “What is she going to do while we’re harvesting the berries?”
    Jeff shrugged. “Dunno. Shop, I guess.”
    Monica tried to picture Gina, with her salon processed blond hair and long, manicured nails, strolling around Cranberry Cove in her Louboutin pumps. Even the wealthier tourists, the ones who disembarked from the biggest yachts in the harbor, rarely wore anything fancier than boat shoes. Cranberry Cove was the sort of laid-back place where people walked around barefoot, in faded cutoffs and an old T-shirt.
    They ate their meal in near silence. Jeff was obviously hungry, and soon he’d polished off three-fourths of the steak, a huge helping of salad and a baked potato heaped with butter and sour cream. Monica was gratified as she watched him devour the meal.
    Jeff chased the last bit of lettuce around his plate and looked up with a smile.
    â€œThat was delicious. Thanks.” He swiped his napkin across his mouth.
    Time to rip off the bandage
, Monica thought.
    She pushed her chair back and began to gather their plates and silverware. “I’ve been going over the farm’s books,” she said, with her back to Jeff.
    â€œOh.” His tone was flat.
    Monica turned around and leaned against the counter, her hands braced against the edge.
Just get hold of the corner and rip
, she told herself.
    â€œThere’s a reason you haven’t been making the profit you expected.”
    Jeff’s brows rose, wrinkling his broad forehead. Monica could see a trace of pale skin at his hairline where his hat usually rested. “What’s that?”
    â€œSam Culbert was cheating you. He embezzled thousands of dollars from the farm’s accounts.”
    Jeff jumped up, nearly overturning the kitchen table in the process. The dirty cutlery, which Monica hadn’t yet collected, slid to the floor.
    â€œIf you’re right,” Jeff began, “if you’re right, I’m going to kill the bastard.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Monica was up and out of bed before her alarm went off the next morning. Today was the big day—the beginning of the cranberry harvest.
    Her clothes had been laid out the night before—jeans, an old turtleneck she used to wear around the apartment to stay warm during the fierce Chicago winters and a plain gray sweatshirt that was slightly frayed around the edges.
    She dressed quickly. It was cold, and she started to shiver. She pulled on her sweatshirt gratefully.
    It was still dark, and Monica flipped on the overhead light in the kitchen. She pulled a box of instant oatmeal from the cupboard, tore open a packet and emptied it into a bowl along with half a cup of water. While it was in the microwave, she leaned her elbows on the counter and looked out the window. The sky was overcast with a few streaks of light to the east. Monica shrugged. She had learned the old Michigan sayingthat if you didn’t like the weather, all you had to do was wait five minutes.
    The microwave pinged and Monica retrieved her bowl, poured some milk on top and added a handful of fresh blueberries—the remains of Sassamanash Farm’s summer crop. She ate the oatmeal and was putting the bowl in the dishwasher when there was a knock on the door. She opened it to find Jeff standing there. He was dressed similarly in jeans and a sweatshirt, and he had a baseball cap pulled low over his