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    Muddy Bottom: Palmetto Island, #1
    Muddy Bottom: Palmetto Island, #1
    Muddy Bottom: Palmetto Island, #1
    Ebook138 pages1 hourPalmetto Island

    Muddy Bottom: Palmetto Island, #1

    By Ashley Farley

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    About this ebook

    "This series reminds me of my all-time favorite movie, Steel Magnolias."

     

    A mother and daughter pick up the pieces of their lives after being abandoned by their father/husband.

     

    Birdie Fuller's new year is off to a bad start. Her husband has mysteriously disappeared, leaving Birdie to cope with their unmarried daughter's unplanned pregnancy. Birdie and Hannah disagree about the baby. Birdie urges her daughter to consider abortion, but Hannah is determined to see the pregnancy to term. When Hannah returns for her last semester in college, Birdie must face her demons, the problems in her marriage that drove her husband to clean out their bank accounts and run off with another woman.

     

    While struggling to hide her pregnancy from her roommates and ex-boyfriend, Hannah interviews for jobs that will take her and her baby far away from her mother. After graduation, with months to kill before the start of her new job, she returns to Palmetto Island for the summer to await the birth of her baby. Tension mounts between Hannah and Birdie when they move from their waterfront home to a two-bedroom apartment above a bakery. Can mother and daughter mend their relationship? Or will they be lost to each other forever?

     

    The first in the unforgettable new Palmetto Island series by southern author, Ashley Farley

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAshley Farley
    Release dateNov 6, 2020
    ISBN9781735521237
    Muddy Bottom: Palmetto Island, #1
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    Author

    Ashley Farley

    Ashley Farley is the bestselling author of the Sweeney Sisters series as well as the stand-alone novels Sweet Tea Tuesdays, Magnolia Nights, Beyond the Garden, and other books about women for women. Her characters are mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives facing real-life situations, and her goal is to keep readers turning pages with stories that resonate long after the last word. In addition to writing, she is an amateur photographer, an exercise junkie, and a wife and mother. While she has lived in Richmond, Virginia, for more than two decades, part of her heart remains in the salty marshes of the South Carolina Lowcountry where she grew up. Through the eyes of her characters, she captures the moss-draped trees, delectable cuisine, and kindhearted folks with lazy drawls that make the area so unique. For more information on the author and her work, visit www.ashleyfarley.com.

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    • 5/5

      Nov 3, 2020

      I was thrilled to find out that Ashley Farley is writing a new Southern series. Muddy Bottom is a prequel novella for her upcoming Lowcountry series, Palmetto Island.Birdie's husband has disappeared after embezzling money from his law firm and cleaning out the family accounts. He left behind his wife of 25 years and his daughter, Hannah, who was a Daddy's girl and blames her mother for her father leaving. On top of that, Birdie finds out that Hannah is pregnant and so Birdie deal with her pain with vodka. Her daughter doesn't want to be part of her mother's life and there appears to be minimal chance of reconciliation between them. When Hannah returns to Palmetto Island for the summer after she graduates, there is a good opportunity for mother and daughter to reconcile but can they change attitudes and get beyond past mistakes to become a family?Ashley Farley writes books about women for women. Her characters are mothers, daughters, sisters and wives facing real life issues. I have read and enjoyed all of her books and can't wait to start this new series!

    Book preview

    Muddy Bottom - Ashley Farley

    ONE

    From her kitchen window, Birdie watches the sun rise over the inlet. Pink sky atop golden marsh and murky water. A new day. A new year. A fresh start. Aside from a gust of wind rippling the water, the inlet is quiet, the world sleeping off last night’s celebration.

    What does this year hold for her? Will she expand her pie business? Or will this be the year she returns to nursing? Baking satisfies a creative side she’s only recently discovered and keeps her connected to friends and acquaintances she wouldn’t otherwise see. Watching her business flourish has become one of the few joys in an otherwise mundane life. Humdrum, her mama used to call it. Isn’t that the norm for middle age?

    Casting frequent glances at the window, Birdie rolls out her first batch of pie crusts. Rum is the pie flavor of month. Her grandmother’s recipe is the best she’s ever tasted, but the directions are complicated, and by the time she places three pies in the oven, it’s going on nine o’clock. She’s surprised and slightly concerned her husband hasn’t returned home from kayaking. Cary rarely misses an opportunity to sleep in, especially on holidays. But they’d gone to bed early, choosing not to usher in the New Year, and he was gone when she woke a few minutes before dawn.

    Retrieving her fleece from the coat closet, she slips out the back door, crosses the screen porch, and makes her way down the path to the creek. On the other side of the wooden storage shed that houses life preservers and fishing equipment, she discovers Cary’s kayak in the bottom slot of the log rack. Turning away from the rack, she sees their center console boat tied to the dock and, up at the house, Cary’s car in the driveway alongside Birdie’s and their daughter’s.

    Where could her husband possibly be at such an early hour on New Year’s Day?

    Wrapping her fleece tighter, she hurries up to the attached garage where she finds Cary’s bicycle hanging from a rack alongside his hunting waders. Birdie enters the house through the kitchen and darts up the stairs to their bedroom. His wallet is on top of their chest of drawers, his iPad and iPhone charging on his bedside table. In their shared walk-in closet, his suits and starched dress shirts hang according to color in a neat row. His carry-on suitcase, the only one he owns, is parked beneath the built-in shelves that house his shoes.

    Heart pounding in ears, Birdie scours the house from attic to utility basement, checking in closets and under beds. Cary is nowhere in sight. Wait! There’s one room left to search. Why didn’t she think of it sooner? Cary must be with Hannah. When their daughter was a child, Cary read to her nearly every night. During Hannah’s teenage years, Birdie often found him sitting in the rocker beside her bed late at night, watching Hannah sleep. He must have gone into her room to kiss her goodnight and nodded off in the rocker.

    She takes the stairs two at a time on the way back to the second floor. Cracking Hannah’s door open, she peeks inside. Her daughter is sleeping in a ball on her side, palms pressed together and wedged between cheek and pillow. The rocker beside her bed is empty.

    Hannah sits bolt upright, her eyes darting about the room as she gets her bearings. She falls back against the pillow and closes her eyes. She’s relieved to be freed from her dream—the one where she’s preparing to take a final exam, but she hasn’t been to a single class all semester. Hannah is a diligent student. She would never allow that to happen. With only twelve hours remaining for the upcoming spring semester, she’s on track to graduate summa cum laude in May.

    Her mother shakes her. Hannah! Wake up! Birdie’s tone is urgent, her grip on Hannah’s arm tight. Did your dad say anything about going hunting or fishing this morning?

    Hannah swings her feet off the side of the bed. What? No. Why?

    He’s missing. The boat and all the kayaks are here. So is his car, bicycle, wallet, and iPhone.

    Hannah rubs the sleep from her eyes. What about his clothes?

    Birdie paces back and forth, making Hannah dizzy. His suitcase is in his closet, but considering all the clothes he owns, I wouldn’t know if anything is missing.

    Hannah stands, hooking her arm around the bedpost until the lightheadedness passes. This is crazy, Mom. Dad didn’t just vanish. He’s a grown man. It’s not like someone kidnapped him. He probably went fishing with one of his friends. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.

    I didn’t think of that, but it makes sense. Whoever he went fishing with picked him up. Still, I think it’s strange he didn’t mention it last night.

    I need coffee. Hannah brushes past her mother, who follows her down the hall and stairs to the kitchen.

    Hannah pops a pod into the coffeemaker, and as she stares at the steaming brew stream into her mug, she’s struck by a memory of a conversation she had with her dad on her first night home from college two weeks ago. Closer to her father than her mother, she’s always gone to him with all her problems. She expected him to be furious when she delivered the news. Instead, his eyes had filled with tears.

    Let’s not spoil Christmas, he’d said. We’ll wait until after New Year’s to tell your mother.

    At the time, she didn’t think much of the remorseful tone in his voice. But now, she can’t help but wonder. Was he planning to leave them? Did he know he wouldn’t be here after New Year’s? Was he buying himself time, so he wouldn’t have to deal with Hannah’s problem?

    Her mother returns to baking while Hannah moves from window to window, watching for a car in the driveway or a boat at the dock. Every moment that ticks off the clock on the mantel in the family room makes the situation more of a reality. Her father didn’t go fishing, and he isn’t coming home. Not today. Maybe never.

    After an hour, she returns to the kitchen where Birdie is preparing the filling for pecan pies. We should call someone.

    Her mom looks up from the mixing bowl. Call someone about what?

    About Dad, Mom. Duh.

    Oh. That. Birdie brushes a strand of yellow hair off her face, leaving a smudge of flour on her cheek. I overreacted earlier. I’m sure you’re right. He’s off fishing with one of his friends. He’ll be home soon.

    Hannah grips the edge of the granite countertop. I’m not so sure anymore.

    Her mother’s body goes still. What makes you say that?

    I remembered a conversation I had with Dad before Christmas. Something was off about it . . . about him. At least call his friends’ wives?

    And say what to them at ten thirty in the morning on New Year’s Day? I lost my husband. Is he by any chance with yours?

    Hannah sees her mother’s point. Word of her missing father would spread through their small community like a slab of butter melting over hot grits. What if he didn’t leave them? What if . . . The scenario that pops into Hannah’s head is too devastating to consider. Then call Chief Summers. He’ll know what to do.

    Birdie abandons her spatula in her mixing bowl. It’s way too early to get the police involved. We’ll look like fools when your father shows up with a cooler full of trout.

    What if he isn’t fishing? What if something bad happened to him? What if he got up during the night to pee, fell and hit his head, and now he’s wandering around the island with amnesia? Having no desire to deal with a hysterical Birdie, Hannah decides to leave out her most serious concerns. We’re wasting time. The chief is your best friend’s nephew.

    Exactly why I don’t want to call him. I’m not ready to talk about this with Max.

    Why would the chief tell Max? I’m sure he’s bound by the law to keep situations like these confidential. If nothing else, he’ll tell us whether we should be alarmed.

    Maybe you’re right, Birdie says, removing her cell phone from her apron pocket. I’ll give Toby a call.

    Hannah learns little from her mother’s side of the conversation, and the minute Birdie hangs up with the chief, she says, Well?

    Toby doubts your father would’ve gone fishing. Nothing has been biting lately. But he wants me to call his friends, anyway. There’s always the possibility he went hunting, even though his waders are in the garage.

    Birdie sits down at the table in the adjoining breakfast room, and Hannah brews two cups of green tea before joining her. Birdie calls Eleanor, Cecilia, and Ellen, but Perry, Gerald, and Brendan know nothing of her father’s whereabouts. Ellen presses her mom for more information, and Birdie, a terrible liar, confesses, He was gone when I woke up. Everything he owns—his car and wallet and phone—is still here.

    Birdie slams her phone down on the table. Stupid me. The entire town will know your father is missing within the hour.

    Let them gossip. I’m more concerned about Dad. She nods at her mother’s phone on the table. Call Chief Summers back. Tell him no one has seen Dad.

    Toby promises to alert his officers of Cary’s disappearance. We’ll be on the lookout, he says. I’ll make some calls and be back in touch. In the meantime, let me know immediately if you hear from him.

    Hannah and Birdie remain at the kitchen table, waiting and watching and drinking cup after cup of herbal tea. When lunchtime rolls around, Birdie heats up leftover chili, but their

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