“That sounds more like a golden retriever,” Tilly says. “But as nice as the breed is, it’s not a man.”
Can’t say I disagree with her there.
I take a bite of my apple fritter.
“You must have more requirements than that,” Meg prompts, giving me a hopeful expression.
“I want a man who will respect me, who will never let me down, a man who is there for me and who will appreciate me for who I am.” And as soon as I figure out the last part, I’ll be sure to tell him.
When I think about it, Mathew was none of that. Only I didn’t realize it until after I caught him in bed with Tiffany.
Oh well. Live and learn.
“Do you like snow?” Tilly asks me.
“I can’t say I’ve had much experience with it.” My family has always been more about hot vacation spots than swishing down ski runs. The only exception is Troy, my cousin. He loves to vacation in Lake Tahoe during the winter.
“What about cold weather?”
“How cold are we talking about?”
“Minus twenty degrees.”
I shudder at the mere mention of it.
“Must admit that I agree with you there,” Meg says, grinning. “Hence my request for a hot-blooded man to share my bed with. Especially in the winter.”
“So Charlotte left LA because of the arranged marriage?” I ask. “There wasn’t any other reason for leaving her family?”
I can’t say that I blame her for that. If my parents tried to marry me off to some guy I wasn’t interested in, I would have left home, too.
“She once told me that she felt like a prisoner back in LA. Charlotte was very much a free spirit, an adventurer. Her family had so many expectations of who she was supposed to be. I guess she had enough of it and left.”
“Did she ever mention a John Turnbull?”
Both exchange looks again, then shrug.
“The name sounds familiar,” Tilly says. “But I don’t know why. Maybe he visited once and that’s why I know the name. I can’t be sure. My memory isn’t what it used to be.”
Maybe the letters between Charlotte and John hold the answers. I never finished reading them yesterday. I became distracted after sending Troy pictures of the house, and then I went onto Pinterest for some decorating inspirations…just because I could.
“Have you heard of the game where you have to name the person you would marry, make love to, or murder?” Meg asks.
I nod.
“I have a new version. You have a hot cowboy, a hot sheriff, and a hot veterinarian with you on an island. Who would you marry, make love to, or murder?”
Tilly laughs.
“Are these three the only other people on the island?”
They nod.
“Well, murder is easy. The sheriff. Because if anyone can solve a murder, it would be the sheriff. So if he’s the one who’s killed, then it will be tough to solve his own murder.”
“Wow, I didn’t think of it that way,” Tilly says.
Meg pouts. “All right, who would you make love to?”
