Ainsley had cried many tears of frustration, heartache, and fear recently, but the tears that flowed from her now were nothing less than pure joy. “Oh, Wolfe.”
“Say yes. Make my dreams come true.”
“Yes. Yes! I’ll marry you!” She didn’t wait for him to slip the ring on. Instead she fell into his embrace and threw her arms around his neck. They kissed, and then he put the ring on her finger, and it fit perfectly. It was so dainty, yet so beautiful.
“I love you,” she said to him.
“I love you, too. I have for more years than you know. Your yes is like the warmth from a sun that I’ve only been able to observe from far away. Your rays have finally reached me.”
She took his face in her hands. “You should write poetry.”
“Oh? I’m not sure Alfred would go for that.”
“You’re eloquent with words. Your heart is deep. And you see things that others don’t.”
He smiled at her, kissed her again and said, “Maybe I’ll give it a try someday.”
Missy Peeple stood silently behind her screen door, looking out at her once glorious town. Things were already changing. She could sense it. Soon there would be no tourists. No fame. Nothing out of the ordinary except their name, and that was even spelled wrong. Cute when attached to the hometown of a horror novelist. Dumb for any other reason.
Skary, Indiana. Just another little town nobody’s ever heard of.
For a few long moments Missy watched cars go back and forth on her street, thinking briefly of Mayor Wullisworth and love lost. But her eyes suddenly caught something on the corner of her porch. Something black. She wrapped her shawl around her bony shoulders, unlatched the screen door, and stepped into the cold.
There, sitting on the rail of her small porch, was a black cat—its tail swishing, its eyes narrow and perceptive.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the feline who is single-handedly responsible for the despicable cat population in this town. Hello, Thief.”
The cat meowed and hopped over an empty flower pot to come closer. He sat and stared at her.
Missy looked around and then at the cat. “Worried about whether your secret is safe with me, eh?” She smiled a little. “What would you do with your days, dear Thief, if things were ‘fixed,’ as they say?” His attention was fully on her, and she regarded him with a cocked eyebrow. “Driving around with the sheriff all day long with nothing more to do than observe the man at work. What a torturous life.”
Then something struck Missy Peeple. And it wasn’t lightning. No, it was an idea. A brilliantly clever idea. An idea that would put her little town back on the map! She clutched her cane and laughed excitedly. Thief’s ears flicked with perky awareness.
“Of course,” she said. “Of course!” If this town couldn’t be known for the gory and the gruesome, then by golly it was going to be known for something. Cats. Cats! It would be a phenomenon that nobody could explain. People from all over the country—no, the world!—would come to buy cats from a place that seemed to birth them from the bowels of the earth. She winked at Thief. Of course, she knew all the better. There could be theater productions of the play Cats, and they could run That Darn Cat! all day long at the movie theater. There could be merchandise. They could rename all the streets for every breed of cat. Arsenic and Old Lace could become The Cat’s Meow, a bed and breakfast just for cats and cat lovers!
Yes. Yes! Once again, Missy Peeple would save the town of Skary.
She turned to the cat and looked him in his golden eyes. “I think you will come in handy. Very handy indeed.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
IT IS UNFORTUNATE that only one name is on the cover of a book, as there are so many people who contribute to the process of its creation and production. Thankfully, God knows and sees everything. I thank all of you who contributed to Boo. May God richly reward and bless you.
I want to especially acknowledge Erin Healy, whose creative additions to this novel have made it more than I could imagine; Dudley Delffs, too, for your continuous encouragement, contribution, leadership, and behind-the-scenes work; Laura Wright, for helping finish up this package by studying every last detail; and finally, the entire WaterBrook Press team, where I most definitely feel part of a large loving family.
I’m also so thankful for a loving church family, who supports me and cheers me on, but most of all teaches me what it means to be like Jesus. WCC, the Flock That Rocks, I’m your biggest fan!
Speaking of family, I am incredibly blessed to have a talented, wonderful, handsome husband, who is such a delight to his wife and children. Sean, thank you for your sacrifice. Only I know what terrific things you do so that I can do this. And kids, I love you so much too. Thank you to the rest of my family for always being supportive and happy to help however you can.
I’d also like to acknowledge Judy Secrist, Patty Pace, and Sandy Bourquin, who are continuous supporters and loving contributors to my work.
And finally, how can one not acknowledge our Father? He is the One who gives me a mind filled with imagination, a heart to tell a story, and hands to form the words on the page. Lord, every day I get to do this is a gift straight from You. Thank You with all my heart.
Rene Gutteridge, Boo
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