Lucky Charm by Carly Phillips Page A

eye on him while I’m gone?”
    She frowned. “Do you think I don’t know about the family curse?” She propped her hands on her small hips.
    â€œJust what do you know and how?” Derek asked.
    â€œJust about everything!” She rolled her eyes in that adult way she had. “Mom told me that once a long time ago, a wicked witch named Mary cursed the Corwin men and ever since they can’t fall in love or else they’ll lose everything,” she said matter-of-factly. “Just like you did.”
    â€œWhen did Mom tell you this?” he asked.
    â€œWhile I was packing to come stay with you.”
    Apparently marriage had mellowed his ex even more than Derek had realized if she was willing to blame their divorce on the curse rather than on Derek’s workaholic feet.
    â€œSo can I go with Grandpa? Please?”
    Derek groaned. If she knew about the curse, that was one less thing he’d have to explain to her when she got older. As for tonight, he was still on the fence. “Do you believe in the curse?” he asked.
    She pursed her lips in thought. “I don’t know. It seems kinda silly, but Mom pointed out how Aunt Ruthie and Aunt Allison are still happily married. It’s just the men in the family who can’t get it right.”
    Derek exhaled a groan. “That’s one way of putting it. But listen, you know how mean people can be? Talking and saying things they shouldn’t?”
    She nodded.
    â€œWell, that’s why I don’t want you to go to the library tonight. If they’re talking about our family, why should we go and listen?”
    â€œBecause it’s about us, silly! We can go and either tell the true version or make sure they say nice things.”
    If only it were as simple as that, Derek mused.
    â€œI think Little Missy has a point. We should show up and hold our heads high,” Hank said. “Maybe that’ll keep them from telling tales that aren’t true, at least.”
    Derek rubbed his hands over his eyes.
    â€œPlease, Daddy?” Holly said, eyes wide, deliberately batting her lashes.
    How could he argue with his daughter’s sweet face, his father’s obstinate insistence or his own desire to see Gabrielle again?
    Â 
    G ABRIELLE ARRIVED EARLY at the library. She liked to see where she’d be speaking and get a feel for the place before she actually did her thing. It helped ease the jitters that went with public speaking. As her other writer friends liked to say, they preferred being behind the computer screen, not in front of a crowd. Gabrielle didn’t mind the attention as much as some people, but she still appreciated time to warm up.
    She stood at the small podium and was reading through her notes when the first guests arrived—an older woman accompanied by a younger one with a pad in her hand. Gabrielle didn’t recognize either of them.
    â€œAre you Gabrielle Donovan, the author?” the older woman asked.
    Gabrielle put her papers in a neat pile and stepped down so she’d be on the same level as her visitor. “Yes. And you are?”
    â€œMary Perkins.” She shook Gabrielle’s hand. “And this is my granddaughter and indispensable assistant, Elizabeth.”
    Gabrielle shook Elizabeth’s hand, too. “Nice to meet you both. It’s Mayor Perkins, isn’t it?”
    The older woman nodded. “Of Perkins. My family founded the town,” she said proudly.
    â€œAnd will continue its legacy in the next election,” Elizabeth said with certainty, her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder.
    Gabrielle smiled. “Nice to meet you,” she said, sizing up Richard’s opponent and the woman who apparently struck fear in many.
    It was hard to believe.
    She couldn’t be more than five foot three inches to Gabrielle’s five foot five. Her hair was gray and professionally styled. She wore a tailored suit and what