A Just Deception Read Free Page A

seven, and you’d been our housekeeper less than a day. I got busted for climbing Mr. G’s trellis and my mother locked me in my room for the rest of the night. I still haven’t figured out how you snuck those cookies in without her knowing.”
    She laughed and moved a cookie to the cooling rack. “A lady never shares her secrets. Hard to believe that was twenty-five years ago.”
    From the moment Marg first smuggled him cookies and milk, Peter loved her. Their partnership had been sealed that day. Marguerite had always been his supporter when the “Oh, Peter” moments became too much.
    “Yeah,” he said. “And how about that time the principal wanted to expel me for trying to rappel off the school roof?”
    Marg shivered. “There weren’t enough cookies in the world for that transgression.”
    The utility room door off the kitchen opened. His mother. She had her country club look going. All spit-and-polish in a blue pants suit and diamond earrings. Her ash blond, shoulder-length hair combed to perfection and tucked behind her ears. At fifty-eight, his mother could easily pass for ten years younger. And no doctor had ever touched her face. An impressive feat in her social circle.
    His mother slipped off her jacket, hung it up and glanced at him. “Hello, stranger.” She entered the room shaking her head. “Oh, Peter, as usual, you have that silly napkin on your head.”
    She clamped her hand on his head, slid the do-rag off and dropped it in his lap. He didn’t bother with a suffering sigh. Not his style. After all, the do-rags had been driving his mother batshit since his navy days. The always put together Lorraine Jessup couldn’t have one of her sons walking around with “that thing” on his head. So instead of arguing with her yet again, he put the do-rag on and ignored her suffering sigh. He’d grown used to not being what she needed him to be. And escaping her derision.
    “Mom, don’t tax yourself. You’ve oh-Petered me and ripped on my attire, and you’ve only been here a minute and a half.”
    Marguerite stifled a laugh. “You just missed it. Peter was reminding me of the time he jumped off the school roof.”
    “I didn’t jump!”
    “I don’t want to think about that,” his mother said.
    Probably because it had been one of the few times she’d defended his restlessness. “You were aces that day, Mom. You marched in there wanting to know how I got on the roof in the first place and threatened to sue them for endangering my life.”
    “It was a valid point. I seem to recall punishing you for a month after that fiasco. You never could sit still, Peter.”
    Marg sighed. “I made a lot of cookies that month.”
    His mother turned to him, her eyes sharp. “You’ve been back two days and we’ve barely seen you. You’re staying for dinner, I hope.”
    No request there. That was a classic guilt-infused order.
    He stood. “I was here last night. I can’t tonight. I just stopped to get my board and some clothes for tomorrow.”
    The response he received was the stricken look. The one where she puffed out her lower lip and stared at him. “Your father will be home soon. I’ll call Stephen, and we can all eat together like we used to. I know Stephen will come.”
    He always does.
    That wasn’t fair. If anything, Peter appreciated his younger brother. Stephen, the golden boy, always managed to take the heat off him. Peter was able to live his life the way he chose, while his brother fulfilled the family obligations. Peter owed Stephen for that.
    “Not tonight, Mom. I’ll come for dinner another night. Leave me a message at the cottage when you guys are eating at home, and I’ll make sure to be here.”
    He made a beeline for the staircase. Time to get his stuff and run.
    “And that’s another thing,” his mother said, scooting up behind him. “Why do you have to stay in the guest cottage? We have ten bedrooms here. Surely, if you don’t want to sleep in your old room, you can find