Hooked on You, Kathleen Fuller [book club suggestions TXT] 📗

Dedication

To my bosom buddy Eddie. We started out as fellow authors and ended up closer than sisters. I miss your smile, your hugs, your wisdom, your contagious laughter, your cooking adventures, your generous heart . . . I miss everything. There’s never been a stronger woman than you.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Map

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

A Note from the Author

Discussion Questions

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Acclaim for Kathleen Fuller

Copyright

Map

Chapter 1

A riot of colors, textures, and fibers filled the canvas in front of Riley McAllister. She tilted her head to the right. Tothe left. Then, with careful precision and pointed tweezers, she started to apply a hair-thin golden thread to the narrowbead of glue on the peacock feather in the center, the final touch to a project that had taken over three months to complete.

“Riley! Your Mimi called!”

Riley flinched and the tweezers pierced through the canvas, marring the multilayered feather. She started to mutter a cursebut bit her tongue. She couldn’t afford foul language, not when she had almost zero dollars in her bank account. Besides,she was determined to win the cash in the cuss jar at the end of the month. There had to be over three hundred dollars init already.

“Oops, my bad.”

She turned around and glared at her roommate. Melody had entered her bedroom–art studio–living room in the apartment theyshared, a silver headband pushing back her short, curly black hair. Then Melody’s words hit her. The torn canvas and goldthread forgotten, she jumped up from her chair. Mimi.

“Is she okay?” Riley asked, panicked.

“She’s fine, but she sounds a bit cranky. She said she must have called five times before I answered.” Melody took a sip ofcoffee out of her brand-new Probably Wine mug. The purchase was courtesy of her winning the cuss jar bounty last month. “You really should put your phone on vibrateat least. It’s a good thing I saw it light up on the kitchen counter.”

Dread filled Riley. “What did she say?” Her grandmother was no spring chicken, and as the years passed, she worried the nextcall would be the one. She grabbed her cell out of Melody’s hand.

“For you to call her. You’re welcome, by the way.” Melody scowled. “Geez, calm down. She’s not at death’s door, if that’swhat you’re worried about.”

Riley turned her back to Melody and tapped Mimi’s number on the phone screen. “How would you know?”

“Because she said, ‘Tell Riley I’m not at death’s door.’”

Riley turned back around as she put the phone to her ear, relief flooding her. “I’m sorry. You know how I get when she calls.”

“You get crazy,” Melody said with a grin. At Riley’s pointed look, she added, “Crazy with worry, I mean.”

True. She tended to expect the worst when Mimi called, despite telling herself she was being ridiculous. But she couldn’thelp it. If anything ever happened to Mimi . . . She drew in a deep breath as her grandmother answered.

“Hi.” Riley forced a cheerful tone. “I’m sorry I missed your—” She looked at her roommate.

Five, Melody mouthed, holding up her hand.

“Five calls.” Riley winced. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, sugar. Just the usual goin’ on here.” Mimi’s lilting Southern drawl filled Riley’s ear, triggering the tiniest sparkof homesickness, which always surprised her. After nine years of living in New York City, she should be over it, but everytime she heard Mimi’s voice, it came back again. Riley’s life in Maple Falls had been a big disappointment, but that wasn’tMimi’s fault.

“The usual required five calls in a row?”

“If you had picked up the phone, there only would have been one.”

“You could have left a message, you know.” Riley plopped onto the pull-out sofa that was also her bed.

“I could have, but then I wouldn’t have heard Melody’s sweet voice. She’s a peach.”

Riley smiled and glanced at Melody, spying her friend’s frown as she inspected the ruined canvas. Her stomach lurched. Withsome time and precision, the artwork could be fixed. Still, Riley would always know it was imperfect. She had planned to putit in her show next week, but that was impossible now. The work was too flawed to display in public.

“Riley? You still with me, hon?”

“Yes, sorry.” She turned away from the canvas and focused on her grandmother, her prior concern rising to the surface. “Howare you? Is everything all right?”

“I called because I haven’t heard from you in three weeks. According to your social media, you’ve been a busy young lady.”She sniffed. “Apparently too busy to call your decrepit old grandmother.”

“You’re not decrepit.” Erma McAllister was far from feeble, but she was seventy-two, and Riley didn’t like thinking about her gettingolder. She also didn’t want to point out that her social media wasn’t exactly a reflection of her life. She kept it goingwith carefully curated pictures of her works in progress, hoping to catch the eye of someone in the art business. A far-flungidea, but it didn’t take much effort to post a picture and write a caption. “You’re also too classy for guilt trips.”

“It was worth a shot.” Mimi sighed. “I guess I better get to the point. I need you to come home. ASAP.”

Riley pressed her hand against her chest, feeling her heart rate speeding up. “Why? Are you sick? Are you in the hospital?”

“No, I’m not sick . . . or in the hospital. At least not anymore.”

Riley sat up. “You were in the hospital and you didn’t tell me?”

“There wasn’t time. I broke my leg—”

“You broke your leg?” Her voice choked in her throat, and Melody rushed to sit down next to her. “When? How?”

“If I can get a word in edgewise, I’ll tell you.”

Mimi’s quiet, composed tone immediately calmed Riley, as it had for so many years. After an unstable childhood, she’d movedin with her grandmother when she was thirteen. Mimi had been her rock ever since. “I’m listening.”

“Put her on speaker,” Melody said.

Riley tapped the screen. “You’re on speaker now. Melody wants to know what’s going on too.”

“Oh,