I manage to nod at Ginny.
“So step one was finishing my novel. Step two I need to go do right now.” I give her a hug. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
I drive to The Cowherd where Ben and George are already busy cleaning up from last night.
“Gosh, you two started early. I can help, you know.”
“You’ve got a lot going on.” George pulls his long hair back into a ponytail and raises his eyebrows at me. “The Special Edition of the Darcy Gazette came out this morning.”
Oh, shoot.
“I forgot about that. You both read it?”
They nod, and George hands me a copy of the paper.
Yep. There I am. Page One.
“Eldest Daughter of The Cowherd Whiskey Owner Cursed Like Jane Austen’s Ghost: A True Love Story of Darcy Finally Revealed.”
I skim the story. Skip wasn’t kidding when he said he painted me as a heroine. I’m described as “the feisty but lovely Macey Henwood, who doesn’t pull any punches.
“She’s a straight shooter, actual Target Champion of Hunt County, who sacrificed college for the sake of her family’s bar and now has to pay the price for cohabitating in such close quarters with the ghost of Jane Austen.
“Due to a permanent scar she suffered in a mysterious accident, and corroborated by a page in Vivian Elmstock Haskins’s diary (see below), Ms. Henwood’s future is tied to Ms. Austen’s. If the spirit of the British romance author is not freed of her spell by this July fourth, Ms. Henwood will forever lose her chance at love with her own Mr. Darcy.”
“And you might want to call Mama.” Ben picks up a chair. “Just a suggestion.”
I chase him across the room as he carries the chair back to its proper location. “How mad is she?”
“On a scale of one to ten? I’d say a thousand.”
I bang my hand against my forehead. “Crap.”
“You’re going to be famous. For the next six hours, at least, until Logan and Gigi take over the attention again at their barbecue.”
“That’s weird because I don’t have any calls…” I look down at my phone. “Oh. Because it’s dead. Well, I just won’t charge it. Let the nosy reporters reach voicemail.”
“What’s all the cursed stuff about?” Ben takes a seat at the nearest booth.
I sit across from him and pull at my purse strap awkwardly. “I thought you said you read the story. Everything’s in there.”
“So Mama found a clue in Vivian’s diary about the eldest daughter being scarred, and that convinced her?—”
“Yep.” I flip my wrist over. “We all know where this came from. But Mama thinks the ghost and I became linked that night. Anyway, I came here to talk to you. So how would you feel if this”—I gesture around the bar with my arm—“was yours?”
Ben’s mouth twists in confusion.
“You finish your degree,” I say. “And then you take over The Cowherd. While you’re in school, you can run it in the summers and on vacations, and I’ll watch it for you until then.”
He grins. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. If you say yes, I’ll ask Daddy.”
“I don’t know if he’ll agree. He has his heart set on you taking it over.”
“Well, things change.”
I tell Ben I’ve finished my manuscript, and he picks me up and spins me around the bar until I’m dizzy. Then, he puts me down and whispers, “You about ready to hand over your quarter?”
