By Bea Cartwright from Kylie Logan’s League of Literary Ladies mystery series
Crisp breezes blow over Lake Erie from Canada and fat clouds pack the sky. The lake itself is a filled with white caps and as I sit here on my front porch huddled in a sweater and a jacket, I watch them jump up and down, slashing and slicing their way to the shoreline just across the street from my B & B.
Fall has well and truly arrived here on South Bass Island, and with it comes mounds of crunching leaves underfoot and the smells of cider and cinnamon in the air. This year, like every year, I want to spend some quiet time taking stock of my life and being thankful . . .
For my friends, Luelle, Chandra and Kate–the League of Literary Ladies. Sure, we started out as warring neighbors, but thanks to a wise judge who told us we needed to stop fighting and start talking and who sentenced us to be a book discussion group, we are now inseparable. All right, I admit Chandra is a little flaky, and Kate can be judgmental, and Luella, well, she’s got plenty to think about because she owns a fishing charter service and is always out on the lake. Still, these women are my rocks, my buddies, my confidantes. Grateful doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about having them in my life.
For Levi Koslov. Because he’s Levi. And he’s a good listener, and a great kisser, and he’s always around when I need a shoulder to cry on or a little back up when there’s danger. I only wish I could be more truthful with Levi about my past.
For Bea & Bees, the dream-come-true bed and breakfast inn I own. Huge Victorian house, lovely guests, a staff that does all the real grunt work so I can concentrate on management and hospitality. I’m one lucky woman and I know it.
For the classic books the League reads and enjoys so much, for evenings in front of the fire talking literature, for listening and discussing and exploring new ideas.
What’s not to be thankful for!
Well, there are the murders. Somehow the League of Literary Ladies always seems to be caught up in a mystery. For this, I am not thankful. Except for the fact that–at least up until now–we’ve always found the answers, we’ve always kept each other safe.
Happy Thanksgiving from the League of Literary Ladies!