[The following is a potential novel opening. Would you keep reading?]
It all started with a secret. No wait, that’s not right. A lie was the culprit
Mrs. Mure was incapable of telling the truth to anyone. Even the smallest detail—like what she had for breakfast—wasn’t safe. There was always a falsehood circling around in her brain, she wouldn’t even have to think of one. To the old woman asking her if she owned a cat as she watched her stroking the ear of a kitten on a street corner, Mrs. Mure simply replied with no. She did have a cat, however; his name was Sampson and he was the crankiest cat ever to walk the earth. To the young man asking if her hair was naturally blonde, not-so-subtly hitting on her in the park as she rested in the middle of her job, Mrs. Mure responded yes. Her natural hair as a light chestnut that she had despised since she was thirteen.
A woman after Lugh’s own heart. Lying was his favorite game to play, though he wasn’t overly fond of being the victim. Especially when he could tell at the drop of a hat that he was being lied to. He did enjoy a perfectly tailored con as long as it had a proper procedure and was planned for a specific, desirable outcome. Sadly, Mrs. Mure did neither. She simply enjoyed presenting herself as something she wasn’t.
Her greatest lie was of the father of her child. Call it personal, but if there was one thing Lugh couldn’t stand, it was lying about someone’s heritage, especially when it came to fathers. Nothing drove him up a wall more. So when Mrs. Mure lied without thought or intention about oh-so-personal a topic to his face—Lugh, the king of lies—things didn’t end well for her. She should have told the truth just that once.