A Hushed Favor: The Lost Trinkets Series, #4

By Sherrie Lea Morgan

When you take the next step, hold on tight—the ride could get rough.

 

Shannon Pryce thought that once she left Birmingham, her past would stay behind. Instead, it's nipping at her heels and tearing holes in her plan to live a quiet, normal life in Petrie's Crossing.Things are still hot and spicy with Mitch, but with a tell-all book hitting the shelves—and Mitch ready to take the next step—how long can she stay off the town busybodies' hot topics list?Her emotions grow even more tangled when she touches a locket from her late aunt's box of trinkets. The impression of love and loss is almost too much to bear. Worse, as Shannon's psychic power grows stronger, the ghost of her twin sister, Stephanie, seems to be growing weaker.Yet as she pushes herself to discover the locket's story, her quest to start over with a clean slate doesn't seem like such a high priority. Not when there's an injustice to make right…even if it turns her own house of cards into a ton of bricks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Village Publishing
• Release date: Dec 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781949256314

Sherrie Lea Morgan

Sherrie Lea Morgan is an active member of Romance Writers of America, her local chapter Georgia Romance Writers, Paranormal Romance Guild. She lives north of Atlanta, GA with her twin sister, two dogs and two cats. When not working her current manuscripts, she enjoys spending time with her family. Visit her at: www.sherrieleamorgan.com; www.facebook.com/sherrielea ; Sherrie Lea Morgan (@slmorganwrit) | Twitter

Book preview

a hushed favor

Lost Trinket Series Book Four

Sherrie Lea Morgan

Village Publishing

ACWORTH, GEORGIA

Copyright © 2018 by Sherrie Lea Morgan

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Sherrie Lea Morgan/Village Publishing

PO Box 2519

Acworth, Georgia/USA 30102

www.sherrieleamorgan.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

a hushed favor/The Lost Trinkets Series Book Four/Sherrie Lea Morgan. – 2nd ed.

Editor: Lindsey Loucks

Cover for this book done by Yocla Designs

This book is dedicated to my critic partners,

Carol Opalinski and Kim Turner, whose

enthusiasm and dedication help me remember

why I love to write.

psychometry (sīˈkämətrē) noun

1. the ability to discover facts about an event or person by touching inanimate objects associated with them.

manifestation (manəˌfesˈtāSH(ə)n) noun

d: an occult phenomenon; specifically: materialization

Medium (mēdēəm)

1. A person claiming to be in contact with the spirits of the dead and to communicate between the dead and the living

psy·chic (/ˈsīkik/) noun

1. A person considered or claiming to

have psychic powers; a medium.

contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

a guarded decree

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Chapter One

Memories of my last trinket investigation results flitted around my head like a butterfly. I smiled at the image of Judy's face, full of wonder when we unearthed the hidden room and tunnel under Rocky's Museum. Those Civil War relics marked a moment of professional pride she'd use to increase the status of her museum. Good for her, even if it did seem to increase her level of snobbery toward me.

I chuckled, and tossed aside the lap quilt I’d snuggled under, and lifted Harmony. She meowed and used my chest as a bouncing board to fling herself toward the floor again. Well, no petting for the kitty. Brat.

Steph appeared near my desk. Her usual misty form flickered before settling into a shape resembling her living self. I tilted my head and studied her silent movements. Odd. She’d never flickered like that before.

You okay? I asked.

No. I'm tired, she responded.

I rose. Ghosts get tired?

She shimmered into a more translucent form, floated toward the couch I'd vacated, then stopped.

I do. I can't speak for other ghosts. And, before you ask, I'm not going to go pester any around here for an answer.

I raised my hands, palms out. I'm only curious.

The cameo is next? she asked.

Yep. Would it be less taxing for you to join me inside my head when I do this, or wait for me to tell you what I see?

I'll wait for your replay of the vision. It'll be safer, in case this one hits you hard like before.

The manifestations of my prior visions while searching for a hidden door to Rocky’s secret tunnels flashed in my mind and I shuddered. I rubbed my chest where the smoke inhalation from the fire had taken days to clear. I needed to do something about that.

After slipping on my gloves, I pulled out the box of trinkets from the hiding spot of Great Aunt Caroline’s desk that I'd discovered months ago. Lifting the lid, I clasped the cameo locket, placed it on a cloth doily spread on my desk, and peered close at the feminine ivory silhouette nestled within an oval gold locket.

I twisted and glanced over at Steph. Still there. She remained near the couch. I removed the glove from my right hand, filled my lungs with air, and lifted the locket. I exhaled and blanked my mind, waiting for a vision.

Two middle-aged women in a tight embrace stood alone in a bedroom. One caressed the others face, dropping kisses along her jaw. She whispered, I will always love you, my darling. Please don't cry. Come lie with me.

My heart ached as the vision faded. I slipped my nail in the seam and pressed. The locket refused to open. I peered closer and moved it under the desk lamp, searching for a clasp. Nothing. Hmm. No amount of pushing, pulling, or prying opened it.

Two women loved each other very much. One was crying. I think because another was leaving, or something. I held out the cameo. But I can’t get this to open.

That’s sad, Steph whispered. No manifestations, then.

None other than heartache. I blew out a breath. This isn't going to be an easy one. At least, there doesn't seem to be some horrific explosion or fire like the last two items. Want to see if you can see what’s inside?

I can’t and it’s a good thing you didn’t have any severe reactions with your vision. We need a break.

We or you?

Both of us, Steph responded while she faded away.

Wait, I said, but she’d already evaporated.

With the cameo still in my hand, I plopped on the couch where she'd been only moments before and glanced around the small office I'd set up. The low wattage bulb of the lamp gave a soft glow this time of night. I studied the cameo again. Nothing. I rose to replace the piece of jewelry, returned the box to its hiding spot, removed my other glove, and tucked it away.

After washing up and changing, I crawled under my quilt where Harmony hid. She shifted and curled up against my hip. I closed my eyes, and the image of the two lovers seeped into my mind.

Who were they? I should have told Steph that I got the feeling that one of the lovers was dying or extremely ill. The pale face and hair loss made the woman appear very weak. But I didn’t say anything because Steph seemed distant lately. Tired. If she got too tired, would she fade away for good? My stomach clenched. That should be a good thing, right? Her going on to wherever she was supposed to be?

I closed my eyes. Please, no.

****

Okay, that's the last of the boxes, Maggie announced early Monday morning.

I peeled the bubble wrap from the antique desk lamp and lifted it. The morning sun shot rays through the window, catching on the dark red glass shade and making it appear like a large ruby. Beautiful.

This is gorgeous, Maggie. Making you an assistant manager was a smart move. Where did you find this? I asked.

Maggie grinned. There was an estate sale on the south side of Atlanta last month. Since it was on a Sunday, I took Grandma out for a drive, and we had a blast. We went to lunch afterward, and it did her good.

That's great. I patted her shoulder. How is she doing?

Maggie's grin faltered for a second then reappeared. The same, most days. But, that day, she seemed a lot like her old self.

Good.

Hey, pretty lady, Bobby called from the back door.

I glanced his way and grinned. His shirt buttons no longer fought to keep the fabric together, although the years of weight battle showed in the stretched buttonholes lining the lower half of his shirt.

Your new eating program is working, I see. Congratulations.

Bobby slapped his beefy hands on his belly, and gave her a wide grin. You got that right. He sauntered in and surveyed the opened boxes, packing material, and items setting on the back table.

Maggie winked at me then focused on labeling the items.

So, to what do I owe this visit? I asked.

Huh? Bobby asked.

Why are you here?

Oh, yeah, he said and pulled out an envelope from his back pocket. This here is your packet for our Labor Day city cleanup project.

I planted my fists on my hips and stared. Is there any holiday this town doesn't do something big on?

What? Bobby's face scrunched. "What are you talking