Melody Whispers (Iris Meadows #1)

Chapter 1

ONE

HARRIET

“It is with deep regret I must decline your invitation.”

My best friend’s arched brow silently tells me the answer is unacceptable.

“Invitation?” she scoffs, popping a hip as she looms over me. For a slip of a thing, she’s very intimidating. “It’s cute you think you have a choice.”

“You’re forgetting it’s my birthday.” I pout from my spot on the sofa, sloth mode activated.

Her eyebrow inches toward her hairline. Talia is the epitome of a confident woman. This is her sweet scowl, only shared with a select few. Her fiery hair bounces as she cocks her head, gesturing to my slumped form, a knitted blanket draped over my head and shoulders. “Your eightieth birthday?”

“I’m tired,” I croak before faking a cough into my fist. “And sick.”

She rolls her eyes. “Harry, you’re so full of shit. Take a laxative.”

“Aging’s overrated.” I burrow deeper into my nest, making it known where I want to spend the rest of my evening. “Let me wither in peace.”

A firm grip drags me up to sit. “This is the last birthday of your twenties and your first free weekend since saying good riddance to Peter.”

Even the mention of his name has my lip curling in disgust. We dated for ten months, and I’ve spent the last two scrubbing the memory of our relationship from my brain.

Peter wasn’t just a cheater—a cheating liar.

I’d have known sooner if I wasn’t so fickle, allowing myself to be charmed by his false promises and contacts in the music industry.

Never. Again.

“Get your shit together, mourn your youth, enjoy being single, and let’s go drink lukewarm beer from plastic steins.”

My faux annoyance cracks when her accent thickens. She was born and raised in Texas; her Southern drawl really shines through the more frustrated she becomes.

She spots my facade slipping. “Ah-ha!” The sound of her palms meeting makes me wince. “See? You want to go out.”

Sighing in defeat, I unswaddle myself from my cocoon.

Birthdays are strange. For as long as I can recall, they’ve never felt worth celebrating. Perhaps that’s the joy of getting older.

Yay me. I survived another 365 days around the sun.

The morose side of my brain says, And what have you got to show for it? Because that’s what society instills in women as they near the ripe old age of thirty. Our life is a checklist leading up to this event, and if we haven’t ticked every item off, we’re made to feel ashamed.

Job. House. Marriage. Kids.

Typically in that order.

Job? Tick. One I’m passionate about and pays the bills. It’s not my dream job, but I’m working tirelessly on reaching that goal.

With a quick glance around my small living room, I take in all the little knickknacks I’ve collected over the years. The house is a rented, shoebox-sized apartment, with peeling wallpaper and a family of birds living in the roof.

The closest I’ve gotten to marriage was when my fourth grade crush gave me a Ring Pop.

Children? If keeping a houseplant alive counts, then yes, I’m the proud mother of an entire windowsill of succulents.

Talia changes tactics when I don’t relent. “C’mon, we never go out. Just this once. The longer I sit in that house alone…” I catch a glimmer of vulnerability before she can blink it away. There’s no need for her to finish her sentence.

My friend needs me, though she’d never admit it. Tals is skittish—corner her, and she’ll head for the hills, so I play it cool. We both knew she was going to win anyway.

“I want to be in bed before midnight,” I warn her as I rise to my feet. “And you’re buying me a candy apple, a hot dog, and a minimum of two pretzels.”

Her expression shifts, gratitude lighting up her face. “You won’t regret it.”

One hour and a sip of wine later, she’s right. It’s the ambivert in me. I love socializing with my friends; it’s the before and after I dread.

Mussing my long, blonde hair until it falls in soft waves down my back, I study my reflection.

Blue eyes, freckles, dark brows, a scar on the bridge of my nose from when my older sister threw a frisbee at my face—same but different.

Every year, I catalog the slight changes in my appearance.

A few more fine lines, curvier around my hips, gray hairs I seriously need to stop plucking. Overall, I like what I see.

I push down the silly notion I’ve got something to prove to the world before I turn thirty. Yes, I plan on working my butt off and getting my songwriting portfolio out into the world, but the outcome doesn’t determine my worth.

There’s a knock on the door, and Talia’s voice calls out. “Parker and Margot are here. You ready?”

I grab my purse off the counter, check my teeth for lipstick, then whip open the door.

“Let’s go! I need a cup of mulled wine and a pretzel, stat.”

Tennessee has been home for the last seven years, and though I miss Maine, my home state, this is where my wings found the space to spread.

There’s no traumatic past driving me to move halfway across the country.

I simply wanted to see what more the world offered after college, which is how my feet landed in Iris Meadows.

Ironically, I traded one quirky small town for another. City life was never for me. The locals are salt-of-the-Earth people, most living in the same house they were born in or settling here to escape the hustle and bustle of Nashville.

Iris Meadows is a hidden gem, with historic redbrick buildings making up most of Main Street.

Bright green trees, flower beds, and vibrant awnings bring a flash of color to the heart of town, where most businesses call home.

Antique stores, cafes, florists, mom-and-pop shops—you name it, we have it.

I grew up in a fishing town in New England called Sutton Bay, where fall time is a religious holiday, and people travel from all over to see the leaves change color.

Here, it’s a little different. We’re lucky if we get two weeks of fall.

Either the balmy summer evenings drag into early November, or winter smacks us in the face, forcing everyone to pull out their knitwear and crank up the thermostat.

The fleeting season doesn’t dull the beauty of Tennessee, with its rolling green hills and vibrant red and orange trees decorating the horizon.

We’re far enough from Nashville the city lights don’t spoil the starry nights yet close enough to enjoy perks.

The locals embrace all things fall, even if it’s eighty-five degrees out or blowing a blizzard.

Despite my refusal to move from the sofa earlier, when the smell of sugary cinnamon and flashing carnival rides greet me, I’m happy with my decision.

This is my first weekend off in a long time, and as cliché as it is, I need to let my hair down and decompress.

There are plenty of out-of-towners here, and some harmless flirting can’t hurt.

Every year, one of the local farmers rents out his land so the town can host its mini version of Oktoberfest. Trucks sell local foods and Bavarian cuisine.

Kids squeal from the top of the Ferris wheel and chair swing ride.

Some people even wear traditional Lederhosen and Dirndl to celebrate the occasion.

The air is cool today. I tug at the sleeves of my mustard cardigan, and leaves crunch under my knee-high boots as we enter the mayhem.

Margot gasps. “I was not expecting this.”

“It’s open tomorrow. You should bring Willow. She’d enjoy the rides,” I suggest.

At the mention of her ten-year-old daughter, Margot’s face lights up. This is her first year in Iris Meadows; thus, it’s her first time experiencing Oktoberfest.

“Margot’s the one who needs a ride,” Parker teases, earning her a punch to the boob.

“Shh,” Margot hisses, flapping her arms, cheeks crimson. “Willow’s teachers could be here.”

Talia rolls her eyes. “Parker, you’re the only one getting it on the regular. Leave us perpetually single women alone.”

The three of us fix her with a look, which she dismisses.

No one argues with her. Talia and her husband separated earlier this year, and, to my knowledge, they’ve had zero contact.

She’s sworn off men until they finalize their divorce, which, at this rate, might not be ever.

I suspect even after they formally end things, she’ll keep to herself for a while.

“Okay, ladies.” Parker flips her lavender hair. “The birthday girl needs a giant sausage in her mouth. Let’s go hunting.”

I’m flanked on either side by my friends, who drag me into the chaos, the four of us grinning. They’re good for the soul, and I can’t imagine a better way to spend my birthday.