The Widows of Eden Read Free

shoes polished to a high sheen. According to Loretta, he was as cool as a cucumber, as if he was immune to the heat.
    She stopped at a safe distance. “Welcome back, Vern. Somebody missed you.”
    Mr. Moore stood up and wiped a speck of dust from his knee, then he looked into Lo’s eyes and remarked, “When we first met, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, but you’re even more beautiful now. Are you well? Are you healed?”
    Two years ago, Loretta was beaten so badly that she lapsed into a coma and eventually died, but Mr. Moore called in a lightning bolt that brought her back to life. I know what you’re thinking, but I was standing outside her hospital room when he did it. It was unmistakable.
    Lo took a step backward. “I’m well, thanks to you, and married. To Calvin Millet. We sent you an invitation. Did you get it?” She held out her hand so that Mr. Moore could see the ring, which was a two-carat solitaire that had once belonged to Calvin’s mother.
    â€œI couldn’t come, Lo. I wanted to, but I just couldn’t make it.”
    â€œWhy not? If not for me, then for Lovey and Cal. He feels like he owes you a great debt. It almost kept him from proposing. Did you know that?”
    â€œI didn’t. I’m so sorry.”
    Laverne, who is three and a half going on thirty-five, said, “That’s okay, Daddy. Mommy isn’t mad; she’s just frusterated.”
    â€œAnd she has every right to be, sweetheart. But I’m here now and I want you to tell me everything that’s happened while I’ve been gone.”
    Laverne looked up at her mother, who said, “Wilma is expecting you for dinner, Vern. Perhaps you can come back later; say eight o’clock?”
    â€œThat would be fine. Thank you.”
    Mr. Moore picked up his daughter and hugged her again. She whispered in his ear, “Can I ax you something?”
    â€œYou bet.”
    â€œI could tell that you were coming, but Mommy and Mee-maw couldn’t. How come?”
    â€œThat’s a very good question. I’ll make sure you get an answer; maybe not tonight, but before the end of the week. Is that okay?”
    Like most of the women in Ebb, Loretta has a finely tuned sense of hearing. “Her mother has a few questions, too. Do you suppose you can fit her into your busy schedule?”
    Mr. Moore put his daughter down for the second time. “Why not tonight? If at all possible, Calvin should be with you. People are coming.”
    â€œPeople are coming? Here?”
    â€œWith your indulgence, yes.”
    â€œWith my indulgence?”
    Mr. Moore stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. “You sound like an echo, Lo. Relax. It’ll be interesting.”
    â€œInteresting?”
    He put his finger on her lips ever so lightly, then he left without another word.
    A BLUE F ORD M USTANG rumbled into my parking lot not three minutes later. It was a low-slung, fast-looking affair with fancy chrome wheels, but the poor thing was waist-high in dust, as if it had forded a stream of medium beige blush-on. Through the parlor window, I watched Mr. Moore retrieve a large, roller-style suitcase from the hatch and pull it across the lot to my porte-cochere. Before he could knock, I yanked the door open, grabbed him around the neck, and wailed, “Thank you for coming, Mr. Moore. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Clem is so sick. He’s on death’s doorstep.”
    I was just warming up, but my sobs were drowned out by apolice siren, and then a county sheriff’s cruiser came screaming around the bend with red-white-and-blue cherry poppers flash-dancing across its roof. Two shakes later, Dottie Hrnicek pulled under my porte-cochere with an ear-splitting screech. She shut the tumult off, thank God, and then she got out of the car and walked purposely up to my doorway, where she declared, “Vernon Moore, you are under arrest.”