A Tradition of Pride Read Free

banish all the unwanted thoughts and concentrate on seeing Angie again.
    Tall pine trees towered over the landscape to shade the vast lawn. The evergreens were of the longleaf variety that had given the private hunting lodge its name. The sun glistened on the mirror smooth surface of a small lake. A graveled driveway curved lazily through the sylvan setting, ending at the rustic elegance of the rough-hewn cypress buildings of Longleaf.
    A full smile spread across Lara's face at the sight of the petite brunette leaning against the porch railing, dressed in a bulky blue sweater that looked several sizes too large and slim-fitting wool slacks. At the honk of the car's horn, Angie Connors raced down the steps, waving excitedly and reaching the car as it stopped in front of the main lodge.
    Lara was barely out of the car when she was wrapped in an exuberant hug. "Just look at you!'" Angie exclaimed, her dark eyes dancing with happiness. "My, but don't you look like a lady!"
    Laughing, Lara shook away the comment. A tight lump entered her throat as she gazed at her best friend whom she hadn't seen in so long. On the surface, Angie hadn't changed. There was still a mass of dark, waving curls on her head, styled to show off her petite femininity and add a spice of impish mischief.
    "You haven't changed a bit," Lara sighed, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering if, like herself, Angie had changed on the inside.
    "In two years was I supposed to grow fangs?" she teased, then bit into her lower lip. "It's so good to see you again," Angie added in a choked voice filled with emotion. "This is so much better than a thousand letters. We have so much to catch up on. Tell me about Trevor. How is he?"
    Lara turned away, reaching into the car to get her purse. "He's fine," she answered noncommittally.
    "Is he still the handsome devil who whisked you off on your honeymoon before the wedding reception had barely begun?" Angie laughed.
    "The same." But Lara's answering laugh was decidedly brittle. "And Bob, how's he?"
    A puzzled light fleetingly entered Angie's dark eyes before she was sidetracked by Lara's question. "The mighty hunter is fine. The hunting party should be back any time and you can see for yourself. It's nearly lunchtime and Bob has an alarm clock in his tummy that goes off at breakfast, lunch and dinner time." As if on cue, the first of the hunting jeeps rumbled into sight. "See what I mean?" Angie laughed as she spied her husband in the front seat with the guide.
    The straggling arrival of the various hunting parties from different areas of the plantation kept the excitement of the morning's quail hunt running until lunchtime. Angie and Lara, the only two women, were natural choices for the dozen hunters to relate their adventures.
    Through lunch, the two friends had exchanged only surface comments about their lives. The conversation was dominated by the men, not that Lara objected. She kept seeing that radiant glow that filled Angie's expression every time she looked at her husband. It twisted her heart with a bitter sadness.
    Sitting on the black leather sofa in the main lounge, Lara gazed sightlessly into the flames licking at the logs in the massive fireplace. Her pensive mood separated her from the hunters preparing to leave for the afternoon shoot. Absently she flicked the ash from her cigarette into the ashtray.
    It was a cozy yet spacious room. The unfinished cypress wood in the open-beamed ceiling also paneled the walls. The large, small-paned windows let the outdoors come in. But Lara was unaware of the natural charm of the room.
    "Well, Lara, are you going to tell me what happened?"
    Angie's voice caught her off guard. She glanced up in surprise. The room was empty. The hunters gone. There were only the two of them and Angie was leaning forward in a large cushioned chair, her expressive face calm and serious.
    Snubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray, Lara shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about,"