Sweet Hush by Deborah Smith

By Deborah Smith

Smith chefs up a passionate tale a couple of girl whose existence is thrown into chaos whilst her son elopes with the daughter of the President of the us. comprises an brand-new brief tale.

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People gasped. His eyes narrowed. He smoked his cig-arillo until the ash tip dropped on his desk. ” I opened my briefcase, turned it to face him, and dumped the contents on the table. Bundles of twenty-dollar bills fell out. Stock certificates fluttered against Mr. Carlisle’s suspiciously mentholated water glass. Government bonds tumbled atop the pile. “Here are my assets, Your Honor. Earned from selling apples by the road over the last four years. My mother wouldn’t take much of my earnings.

A big Atlanta bank had bought out the Farmers Bank of Chocinaw County that year. I replied with my best line. It had worked before. “ He gaped at me. ” “A little apple barn up in the front of the Hollow where people driving by can see it. ” I paused. “And I want a big Sweet Hush Farms sign by the entrance. ” Another pause. “And I’ll put another sign over where people turn off the interstate. ” The banker shook his head. “No, Sir. Not to buy apples. ” I went off on a long, rambling explanation of nostalgia and heritage and the Hollow and dead soldiers while he sat there, smiling ignorantly.

Aaron said stiffly. ” the judge asked. “Oh, no, no, Your Honor! But poor young Hush doesn’t have any reliable help —” “That’s a damn lie! ” Davy said loudly. He leapt up like a soldier coming to attention. I twisted in my seat to stare at him. Seventeen and six-foot-two, lean as a post in jeans and leather, he had long-lashed eyes and dark, luxurious Thackery hair, plus a glorious brand of rowdy charm but hopeless bullshit. He made a serious show of straightening the half-assed tie he wore with a plaid shirt beneath his leather jacket.

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