Carolina Moon

vet’s. And she planned to cement that connection by giving a party, a kind of potluck get-together sometime in June. A summer kickoff, she mused, that wouldn’t conflict with anyone’s plans.
    She’d invite Tory, too, of course. And Dr. Hunk, the dreamily dimpled vet. She’d definitely like to get to know him better, she decided, as she poured a second glass of wine.
    She’d ask the Mooneys. Mr. Mooney at the bank had been so helpful when she’d set up her new accounts. Then there was Lissy at the realtors. A tongue wagger, Sherry admitted, but it was always good to have the town gossip in your camp. You found out such interesting things. And she was married to the mayor.
    Another looker, Sherry remembered, with a great smile and a superior butt. A bit of a flirt, too. It was a good thing she’d found out he was married.
    She wondered if it would be presumptuous to invite the Lavelles. They were, after all, the VIPs of Progress. Still, Kincade Lavelle had been very nice, very friendly whenever they’d bumped into each other around town.
    And talk about gorgeous.
    She could make the invitation very casual. It couldn’t do any harm. She wanted lots and lots of people. She’d keep the patio doors open as she always did, let guests spill outside.
    She loved her pretty little garden apartment, and she could buy another lounge chair to sit outside. The one she had looked lonely out there, and she didn’t intend to be lonely.
    One day she’d meet the right man, and they’d fall in love over warm nights, and marry in the spring. Start a life together.
    She just wasn’t meant to stay single. She wanted a family. Not that she’d give up teaching, of course. A teacher was what she was, but there was no reason she couldn’t be a wife and mother, too.
    She wanted it all, and the sooner the better.
    Humming to the music, she stepped out onto the patio, where Mongo was dozing. He stirred enough to thump his tail, and rolled over in case she wanted to scratch his belly.
    Obliging, she crouched down, giving him a good rub as she sipped and glanced idly around. Her patio opened up to a nice grassy area that was bordered by the trees of the park on one side and a quiet residential avenue on the other.
    She’d chosen the apartment first because they allowed pets, and where she went, Mongo went. As a bonus it was convenient for their morning runs in the park.
    The apartment was small, but she didn’t need much room as long as Mongo had a place to exercise. And in a town like Progress, housing didn’t cost an arm and two legs as it did in Charleston or Columbia.
    “This is the right place for us, Mongo. This is home for us.”
    Straightening, she wandered back inside, into the small galley kitchen, as she sang along with Sheryl about her favorite mistake. She’d continue her celebration by fixing herself a huge salad for dinner.
    Life, she thought, as she chopped and diced, was good.
    Twilight was edging closer by the time she finished. Made too much again, she thought. That was one of the problems with living alone. Still, Mongo liked his carrots and celery, too, so she’d add them to his evening meal. They’d have it on the patio, and she’d treat herself to one more glass of wine, get a little tipsy. Then they’d take a nice long walk, she decided, as she squatted down to scoop Mongo’s kibble out of the plastic bin. Maybe get some ice cream.
    She lifted the bowl. A movement at the corner of her eye had her heart wheeling into her throat. The bowl flew out of her hands, and she managed one short scream.
    Then a hand clamped over her mouth. The knife she’d used to make her dinner pricked at her throat.
    “Be quiet. Be very, very quiet, and I won’t cut you. Understand?”
    Her eyes were already circling wildly. Wings of fear beat in her belly, had her skin going hot and damp. But confusion rode over it. She couldn’t see his face, but thought she recognized the voice. It made no sense. No sense at all.
    His hand slid slowly away from her mouth to grip her chin. “Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me.”
    “Now, why would I do that?” Her hair smelled sweet. A whore’s blond hair. “Let’s go in the bedroom where we can be comfortable.”
    “Don’t.” She gasped as the edge of the knife teased along her throat, tipped up her chin. The scream was inside her, desperate to burst out, but the knife turned it into silent tears as he pushed her out of the kitchen.
    Her patio doors were closed now,