This is the very first impression of a new Hoarfrost Mystery story forming. Not saying this is a first chapter, or if it will even make the cut. But it's creating the mood and giving me something to work with. The idea for the story has already been mapped out and partially outlined. Creating images in Midjourney is quick and easy to get me inspired and in the mood and helps me with my descriptions as well. Good tool.

Lucille adjusted the comb in her hair as she considered her reflection in the mirror. How the years had aged her. She did not recognize herself, the gray hair, the lines around her mouth, the endless pout that seemed planted on her face, the double chin pushing against the high collar around her neck. Even her eyes had dulled. She was fading away, and to what end?  No wonder her son refused to visit. She snickered, angry that Grai had left her but little more than a widow.

Ever since her husband, his step-father, had been arrested and accused of conspiring his murder, she had to deal with life and its injustices alone. Were it not for her two servants and the coachman, Lucille would have been a pauper on the streets. And would Grai have cared?

Surely not.

The downturn lips bent further as she turned away from the gilded glass on the wall and glanced out the window in time to see a carriage come to a halt at her porch. Who was this?

Gina the maid brushed by her, gliding swiftly to the door. Lucille peered around the corner and watched as the colored girl opened the ingress and bowed.

“Yes sir, Mistress Lucille is in the parlor. One moment please,” she said.

“Who is it?” Lucille asked as the woman hurried into the darkened space where Lucille cowered. Strangers were never welcome at her manor. Not while she lived alone.

“I don’t recognize a one of them, Madam. There are two men at the door. Young good-looking men and I saw another three persons in the coach. Dressed rugged as if they’d been traveling a long while. Smell of horse and dust and all. They know your name though.”

“Very well, get Brent and have him come to the living room as quickly as possible.”

Lucille wrung her hands and glared at the closed door, curious as to who the strangers were on the other side. She could see restless shapes through the stained glass. Men she didn’t know pacing on her doorstep waiting to come in out of the heat. There would be no hospitality without the consent of her butler. She trusted Brent not only for the daily regime of her household, but as a protector as well.

Brent, a lean middle-aged man with graying hair and a thick black mustache bowed when he stepped into the parlor.

“Gina tells me there are travelers at your door.”

“I want you to see who they are. You know I cannot trust a soul in this town.”

“Gina says they appear to be from out of town.”

“Worse,” Lucille retorted.

Brent bowed again without arguing and stepped into the entry way, opened the door slightly and spoke.

“Who might I say is calling?”

“Danny,” came the answer and a blond-haired man stuck his head in the door, peeking past the butler. “Aunt Lucille?”

It couldn’t be Daniel, her sister’s son!

“