The Way You Look Tonight Read Free Page B

Agatha Christie novels.
    Barbara crossed the room to her side. ‘Has Steve deserted us?’
    â€˜He’s in the kitchen having a drink with Pete.’ Barbara smiled.
    â€˜Pete’s such a nice guy. I wonder why he never remarried.’
    â€˜I suppose because he was so badly burned the first time. And he devotes a lot of time to Adam and the grandmother in Wheeling who raised him after his parents died. She’s in her eighties and has a lot of health problems.’
    â€˜None of those reasons seem good enough for him to have cut himself off from a social life,’ Barbara said. ‘He needs a girlfriend, someone with some life who’ll make him start acting his age. And make him get a new wardrobe. His clothes all look too big, not to mention years out of date. I’m no fashion plate myself, but it seems like he’s trying to look ten years older than he is.’
    â€˜Remarks like that won’t earn you a visit from Santa.’
    Barbara giggled, her laughter softening her dark, hawk-like features. When she was young, she’d probably been attractive in a chiseled, dramatic way, Deborah often thought. But at thirty-eight, after fifteen years of twelve-hour work days and little in the way of beauty care, she usually looked thin, tense, and slightly weather-beaten with her uncreamed skin and face naked of make-up except for a careless slash of lipstick. Tonight she’d chosen an unflattering bright pink. Right now some of that pink decorated a front tooth, but Deborah had learned how defensive Barbara could be about her appearance.
    â€˜By the way, you look great,’ Barbara said. ‘I knew that dress was for you as soon as we spotted it in the store window.’
    â€˜Steve doesn’t like it.’
    â€˜No, probably not. He’s a sweet man, but he wants you to look a dowdy sixty-year-old instead of a sexy twenty-eight-year-old.’
    â€˜Oh, Barbara, he doesn’t.’
    â€˜Yes, he does. He doesn’t want you flying the coop into the arms of some other guy.’
    â€˜That’s hardly likely. Besides, you think Steve’s a lot more Machiavellian than he is.’
    â€˜Says you. You’ve been brainwashed into thinking you aren’t anything special in the looks department. I, on the other hand, am beginning to resemble my mother, and she is in her sixties.’ She held up a chocolate almond cookie she’d been munching. ‘And these don’t help maintain a girlish figure.’
    â€˜Barbara, you’re thin as a rail.’
    â€˜Flabby thin, not taut thin like you.’
    â€˜You don’t run after five-year-old twins and a dog all day. But in any case you do not look like you’re in your sixties.’
    â€˜Well, I at least look every year of my age plus a few more.’
    Yes, she did look every year of her age, Deborah thought with regret. It was no wonder everyone had been surprised when Barbara began dating Evan Kincaid, seven years Barbara’s junior and considered the glamour boy of the Prosecutor’s office. According to Steve, some of the young secretaries could barely hide their jealousy and constantly made catty remarks behind Barbara’s back about the relationship. ‘But I understand it,’ Steve said. ‘Barbara’s a brilliant, witty woman. Besides, Evan isn’t one to judge by exteriors.’
    â€˜He’s like you in that respect.’
    Steve smiled. ‘Sweetheart, you’re a very nice-looking woman.’
    Nice-looking, Deborah thought dismally. Nice-looking with her long black hair Steve liked to see pulled back in a French braid and serious blue-gray eyes usually hidden behind glasses she wore when working, nice-looking with her tall, slender frame he preferred in simple clothes, nice-looking with her smooth, creamy skin which cosmeticians at the department store makeup counters claimed was more like that of a woman five years younger. Nice-looking, but not a