The Major's Wife (Jubilant Falls series Book 2) Read Free Page B

the hot, July temperatures within tolerable limits. Kay was waiting behind the literacy center's heavy glass doors as I pulled up. I sheltered her with my umbrella, and together we ran for the car.
    At the Colonial, we slipped into a discreet corner table. Kay surveyed the other diners from behind her menu.
    "This town is too damn small," she whispered. "It figures that the first time I go out, I run into someone I rather not know."
    "Who?"
    "My mother's best friend, Lovey McNair. If we're lucky, she won't come over and ruin our lunch." Kay waved politely, a tense smile pasted on her face.
    In the shadowy darkness, I could barely see the scar on her cheek. While time had given her the beginnings of crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, it had mercifully lightened that memento from her first marriage.
    Kay searched absently through her purse. "One of these days, I'm going to have to clean this thing out."
    "What's that?" I pointed to an airmail envelope sticking out of the corner.
    "A letter from Paul that I got today."
    "And you're not going to read it?"
    "No."
    "Why not?"
    She gave me a look that told me I was prying.
    "Okay."
    Abruptly, she stuffed the letter deeper into her bag. "Look, here comes the waitress. What do you think you're going to order? Is the cream of broccoli soup as good as it used to be?"
    "Are you okay? Is everything okay with the major?"
    "He's fine. Tell the waitress what you want for lunch, and then you can tell me what you've been doing with yourself these last few years." Kay gave the menu a cursory glance and slapped it shut. "I'll have the cream of broccoli soup and a salad please, with iced tea." Her smile was forced.
    "Chef salad and tea. Kay, what's going on?"
    "You know, it feels so strange to be back in my hometown again. It seems to change and not change. You know what I mean?" I let her steer me away from the letter into neutral territory. When our food came, the smile on her face became less strained, more genuine. The major, however, remained conspicuous, even in absentia.
    "We'll have to do this again," Kay said. The waitress came to clear our plates, and we stood to leave. More at ease now, Kay slipped her arm through mine as we headed for the stairs.
    "Yes, we will."
    "Most everyone I grew up with doesn't live here anymore. They've all moved on to greener pastures. You're about the last person left that I know in town, besides Mother and her country club cronies." Kay made a face.
    We reached the top of the stairs to the outside exit. I took her hands in mine and chastely kissed her cheek. "Then we'll have to get together even more frequently. You're still very special to me, Kay."
    "Oh, Marcus."
    There was a plodding of heavy feet on the stairs behind us. A woman cleared her throat.
    "Kay Armstrong, however are you, my dear!" A heavy woman with fat feet spilling over the tops of her too-tight shoes lumbered to the top of the stairs. Her face was red from exertion. The deep blue, ostrich plume on her hat waved haphazardly in front of her, a wispy flag atop an overdressed and overweight battleship.
    Kay jumped back a foot, scrambling for composure. "Lovey, so good to see you. I like you to meet my friend, Marcus Henning. Marcus, this is Mother's friend, and my landlady, Lovey McNair. Mr. McNair owns McNair Machine Tool."
    I remembered the widow's story, and acid curdled in my stomach.
    The battleship sized me up, over her half-glasses. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Henning. You write for the paper, don't you? We do so enjoy your little stories about our tête-à-têtes at the country club." Her voice was icy, with perfect pear-shaped tones, resonant with privilege and superiority.
    "Why thank you," I said. "Is McNair Machine still in the business of fleecing widows, or have you moved on to orphans now?"
    "Marcus!" Kay was aghast.
    The battleship took the hit broadside, her heavily made-up eyes blinking in shock. "Mr. Henning, I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
    "But Mrs. McNair, I'm