Mimosa Grove Read Online Free PDF

anxious to finish her shopping and get her little girl home so she could better tend to her injuries.
    Harper Fonteneau paled, then shoved his hat to the back of his head, watching with unconcealed dismay as Laurel drove away.
    “Now, why didn’t somebody introduce me before I shot off my mouth?”
    “Ain’t nobody able to tink dat fast,” old Tula countered, muttering to herself as she shuffled away.
     
     
    By the time she passed the city-limits sign, Laurel’s good mood had returned. She wasn’t certain what awaited her at Mimosa Grove, but it was obvious that the people of Bayou Jean were not of a mind to run her out of town on a rail. Just the thought of being accepted for who she was made Laurel smile, and she was still smiling as she glanced down at the map on the seat beside her. According to the lawyer’s directions, she should be close to her destination.
    A short distance down the road, she saw a rural mailbox mounted on a rusting scroll of decorative wrought iron. She slowed down, then tapped the brakes, giving herself time to read the faded name on the side of the box.
    Campion.
    Her heart skipped a beat. This must be it! According to the lawyer’s letter, this marked the front boundary to Mimosa Grove. She turned the steering wheel sharply to the right, then accelerated slowly, maneuvering the car through a narrow drive bordered on both sides with overgrown bushes. Within seconds, she emerged onto the grounds with a slightly obstructed view of a massive, three-story structure.
    Once it must have been majestic in its elegance, but no longer. Everywhere she looked, there were large, spreading mimosa trees in full bloom, as well as a solid wall of them surrounding the grounds on three sides. As she drove closer, she could see that the roof of the old mansion was in obvious need of repair, as were the railings on the second-story veranda. Four massive Corinthian pillars marked the length of the front of the house, standing three stories tall and doing what they could to hold up the slightly sagging roof. Paint peeled and flaked without prejudice, giving the entire house the appearance of having some horrible, scaly disease. Overgrown landscaping that should have framed the old house’s appearance only added to its encroaching demise.
    Laurel sighed. It wasn’t what she’d expected, and it certainly wasn’t how she remembered it, but it didn’t change the fact that it was hers. As she drove farther, she noticed a pair of peacocks near a large, scum-covered pool of green water. She had a vague memory of standing near the edge and tossing bread-crumbs to a pair of oversize goldfish. Obviously the fish were no more, because that murky water couldn’t possibly sustain life other than bacteria and mosquitoes.
    As she drove past, the peacocks squawked their disapproval, then fanned their tails before strutting toward the shade of a huge mimosa. A faint breeze shifted the fragile, spiky blooms on some trees near the road, causing a few of them to come loose and shower down on her car, while others were caught on the air and sailed past. Another memory surfaced, of standing beneath such trees while loose blossoms drifted down upon her face and hearing her mother tell her the blooms weren’t really flowers, but pink-and-white fairies. She knew if she closed her eyes, she would be able to hear the laughter that had come afterward.
    Quick tears blurred her vision when she realized how long it had been since she’d thought of her mother in a positive vein. If only Phoebe hadn’t died. If only she hadn’t let her father control her life afterward, she might have known Marcella Campion as more than just a name.
    “Oh, Grandmother, forgive me. I should have come back.”
    Seconds later, a large parrot flew across her line of vision in a blurred swath of red, green and yellow, followed by a smaller blue one. Looking closer, she realized there were dozens of parrots, some perched in nearby trees, others flying