Broken Vows Mystery 03-In Sickness and in Death Read Free

region, where maybe a handful of days over a couple of summer months would be suitable.
    “Great.” Cory fumbled through a stack of note pads on my desk. “Here’s her brother’s number. She’s staying with him until Christmas. I told her we’d call once we located a car for her.”
    He sprang out of the chair, ready for action. “I’ve got a Fiat to service this morning and a Land Rover coming in this afternoon.”
    I held up my hand to slow his departure. “Cory, one more thing. Did you want to come over for Thanksgiving dinner?”
    His eyes misted. “I do, but can I bring a date?”
    A date. Cory’s life had been busy in more ways than one since I dropped out of sight. “Sure. Who?”
    “I’ll let you know after I ask him.”
    How mysterious. Cory had learned the man he loved was a big fat liar in the worst way just a few days before we lost Noelle. He’d handled his depression better than me, pouring his energy into his maintenance work and letting out all his emotion in amateur theater performances at the Broadway-quality theater one town over from Wachobe. Too bad I hadn’t taken a page from his book.
    I powered up my computer, smelling smoke as the dust burned off. The website for Hemming Motors News came up a second after I typed in the address. They didn’t have any Caterhams listed.
    A little more searching uncovered two for sale from sports car dealerships in Florida and Arizona. No one answered the phone numbers listed on their websites. I left my name and numbers, office and cell. What more could I do today?
    Cory had the bills paid to date, and he’d invoiced all his maintenance customers in a timely manner. An order for parts and supplies went out last week. He didn’t really need me here. I’d become superfluous in my own business.
    I tried to think of a way to become more important. I stuck my head in the three-bay garage. “I’m going grocery shopping. I’ll bring you back lunch around noon.”
    Flat on his back and smiling, Cory shot out from under the Fiat on his mechanic’s creeper. “Can we have pizza?”
    ____
    The grocery store proved to be a nightmare. I couldn’t decide between a fresh turkey, a Butterball, or the store brand. Jellied cranberry sauce or sauce with berries? One loaf of stuffing bread? Or two, if Cory brought a guest? Maybe Erica would like to bring a guest as well?
    I dialed her cell phone number and waited. She answered on the eighth ring. She sounded half-awake.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Sleeping. I worked until two a.m. What do you want?”
    “I want to make sure you’re planning on having Thanksgiving dinner with us.”
    “I’m surprised you care enough to ask.”
    I deserved that. I hadn’t called her in weeks. “I care. Did you want to bring a date?”
    “Are you kidding me? I’m twenty pounds overweight. I look like a cow. No one wants to poke a cow, Jolene.”
    “That’s a nice picture, Erica.”
    “Better than the picture of all my flab being sucked out. Have you ever seen them do that on TV?”
    I had. It grossed me out for days, and the mere memory of it made me want to vomit. “Why are you so gory today? What’s wrong?”
    “Everything. Not that you care.”
    “I care, Erica, I care. Why don’t you come for dinner tonight and tell me all about it?”
    “Fine. But don’t serve chicken. I hate chicken.” She hung up.
    I couldn’t decide what to serve for dinner. Ray’s list only covered Thanksgiving dinner and a few other staples. I pushed the cart from one end of the store to another, frustrated with my own indecisiveness and shocked at the anxiety this simple responsibility induced. When I saw another woman reach for lasagna noodles, I seized on the idea, purchasing the supplies for it, salad fixings, and a loaf of Italian bread. Only after I was halfway home did I realize I hadn’t purchased dessert. Ray liked dessert every night.
    I ordered pizza for Cory and me while I unloaded the groceries at home. I didn’t feel