False Notes Read Free Page A

dining room. “Hurry up. Dinner’s just about on the table.”
    As I went into the powder room off the front hall to wash my hands, I caught a whiff of the tantalizing odor of Hannah’s famous squash and mushroom soup. That made me feel a little better. But I couldn’t help but continue to think about my fruitless shopping expedition as I hurried into the dining room a few minutes later and took my usual seat at the polished mahogany table.
    Dad and Hannah were already seated. “Hi, Nancy,” Dad greeted me, glancing up from his soup. “How was your day?”
    “Okay, I guess.” The words came out sounding a little gloomy, even to myself. I forced a smile, not wanting Dad to guess why I was feeling so down in the dumps. “Oh, actually something sort of interesting—and a little weird—happened this afternoon.”
    “What’s that, dear?” Hannah asked, passing me the soup tureen.
    I helped myself to a bowl of the thick, ginger-scented soup. “I was downtown—er, just doing a little window shopping,” I said. “I stopped in to visit withLucia Gonsalvo in her shop. While we were having tea, we spotted a couple on the street outside. I thought they looked familiar, but at first I couldn’t remember who they were.”
    “Oh, really?” Dad turned and winked playfully at Hannah. “Uh-oh. Sounds very mysterious so far. The summer heat must be affecting Nancy’s brain.”
    I grinned. “Maybe a little,” I joked. I paused for a moment to blow on my soup, because it was still too hot to eat. “Since it took me about ten minutes to realize that it was Heather and Clay Simmons. You know, the woman who’s been talking about running for mayor of River Heights, and her husband, who teaches over at the university? But the weird part was, Lucia was sure there was something terribly wrong by the way they were acting—and I’m not sure she wasn’t…”
    My words trailed off as Dad’s soup spoon clattered loudly against the edge of his bowl, bounced off the table, and fell to the floor. “Excuse me,” he muttered, diving down to retrieve it.
    I stared at him in surprise when he sat up again. His face—which a moment ago had looked relaxed and jovial—was suddenly hardened into an expression of shock.

Mystery or Not?
     
    I was startled at the sudden change in Dad’s demeanor. But I quickly realized that there was only one likely explanation: The Simmonses must be clients. Dad was always careful to respect the attorney/client relationship, and I knew better than to press him when he got like that.
    Anyway, maybe that explained away the whole “mystery,” I thought as Hannah bustled off to the kitchen to fetch Dad a clean spoon. Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Simmons were having some sort of legal trouble, and that’s why they had been arguing on the street. If so, this was starting to look like a serious case of None of My Business.
    Clearing my throat, I decided it was time to change the subject. Since the Simmonses were still inmy mind, I started to think about their daughter. Leslie Simmons was just a couple of years younger than I was. I didn’t know her that well, but everyone in town knew that she was a talented pianist and one of the most promising musicians River Heights had seen in a long time.
    “Hey, speaking of the Simmons family,” I said as Hannah returned and placed a spoon on the table next to Dad. “I heard the other day that Leslie is trying out for that scholarship the conservatory is awarding to the most promising high school musician.”
    Dad had just raised a spoonful of soup to his mouth. At my comment, he almost choked on it. The spoon clattered into his bowl again as he pounded on his own chest, coughing and sputtering.
    I stared at him. What was going on? Obviously the entire Simmons family was a sensitive subject for him at the moment. But why? He regularly represented a lot of people in town, from Lucia Gonsalvo to Harold Safer to the outgoing mayor, and he didn’t start choking every time