Nursing a Grudge is Murder (A Maternal Instincts Mystery) Read Free

and began to dig through the front pocket. “Brent Miles is weird, Kate.” She pulled out her phone and grimaced. “Egad, I hope it isn’t him calling right now!”
    The vision of the skull cap man holding his cell phone flashed in my mind. I twisted in my chair to look across the street.
    Skull cap man was gone.
    “UC Med Center,” Jill said.
    I turned back to her. She was staring at her phone display an expression on her face somewhere between puzzled and cautious.
    “I missed the call,” she said flatly.
    I grimaced. A hospital calling couldn’t be good news, could it? Unless it was a message from her doctor, then it might be. Only judging by the look on Jill’s face, it didn’t seem hopeful. “Maybe they’ll leave a message,” I said.
    Jill shook her phone as if that would speed up the voicemail alert function. “I hope everything is all right with Perry. He went hiking this morning.” Her lips twisted and her forehead creased as she thought for a moment. “I hope he didn't sprain an ankle or something."
    I nodded reassuringly. “And who is Perry?”
    Her face lit up with a smile. “He is my latest conquest. He’s hot, hot, hot Kate. I can’t wait for you to meet him. 6’4’’, sandy blond hair, dimpled chin. Looks straight out of a Pendleton catalogue.”
    I laughed. “You usually go for the short, bald type.”
    Jill almost snorted out her hot chocolate, then clamped a napkin to her mouth. After a second she cleared her throat and said, “I do not.”
    I laughed again. “What about Henry?”
    Jill chuckled. “I was 16 for God’s sake, and he wasn’t bald. He was…”
    “Bald. He was bald. Even at 17, he had a receding hairline.”
    “Henry was very sweet. I can’t believe you have such a cruel memory.”
    I feigned innocence. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with short, bald guys. I’m just saying I thought they were your type.”
    “Nobody’s type is short and bald.”
    “Let’s see, there was Henry, then Richard, Brandon, Mitchell—”
    “Okay, shut up. Maybe looks aren’t that important. All the guys you mentioned were like, artistic, poets, you know?”
    It was my turn to snort.
    Jill pointed a finger at me. “And you’re forgetting Gunter. Remember him?”
    “Who could forget Gunter? He was a Nordic god.”
    Jill raised her eyebrows at me. “Only he was a little jerky. Perry is just as hot as Gunter, but sweet.”
    She blushed.
    “Oh. A little rosy around the edges, are you? Is it love? How long have you been seeing each other?”
    “A few months,” she smiled. “We met at Bottle Top downtown. Do you know it?”
    I shook my head. “Please, I don’t get out.”
    She laughed. “You’re out now.”
    I waved her off. “This is different. It’s a baby-friendly place. What is Bottle Top, a club?”
    “No, a swanky restaurant I reviewed,” Jill said.
    “So it’s love, then?” I pressed.
    “I gave it a pretty good review.”
    I laughed. “I meant Perry.”
    She smiled. “Him, too! I give him a
great
review!”
    “Wedding bells?” I asked.
    She blushed. “You know what, Kate? Maybe. Maybe, finally, yes.”
    Her phone beeped and she glanced at the screen, then frowned. She held up a finger. “One second, okay?”
    I waved a hand at her. “Of course.”
    She tapped at the screen, then pressed the phone to her ear.
    My stomach rumbled and I fidgeted with my water glass. When was my lunch going to arrive? The waitress hadn’t even brought a bread basket!
    I laughed to myself suddenly, thinking if I were a restaurant critic, I would be as harsh as Jill. I absently wondered what she liked about this place. Yes, the atmosphere was cozy and kid friendly, but where was the food, for God’s sake?
    Jill covered her mouth with her hand. I watched her face. It didn’t look like good news.
    Our waitress approached with steaming plates in hand. As she placed the dishes in front of us, Jill pushed back from the table.
    “Kate. I’m so sorry. I have to go.