Dead Silence (Stillwater Trilogy #1)(61)
Author: Brenda Novak

“You don’t return the interest?”

She heard the skepticism in her brother’s voice and quickly moved to squelch it. “No,” she said, but the fact that she’d just spent her bath fantasizing about Kennedy made the lie sound far too obvious to her own ears.

“Because of George?” Clay asked.

“George has nothing to do with it,” she said. “He’s met someone else.”

“Since when?”

“He dropped the bomb Saturday night.”

Clay whistled. “Nice of him to take you by surprise.”

“He deserves a chance at happiness. I’m glad he has it.”

“You deserve a chance at happiness, too,” her brother said.

“What about you?” she asked, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

“You’ve had quite a weekend,” he went on.

Grace turned on the fan that would help her endure the heat and slipped into bed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Joe Vincelli joined us on Sunday.”

“Really? Why?”

“Ostensibly he came as Kennedy’s friend. But Kennedy didn’t invite him. I think he wanted to be sure Kennedy and I didn’t get too close. He feels threatened by the fact that Kennedy and I are becoming friends.”

“Did his feelings toward you make any difference to Kennedy?”

“They didn’t seem to.”

“So we don’t have to worry about him.”

“Yes, we do. Joe’s not going to forget. He suspects too much.” She hesitated, then plunged on. “I know you don’t agree with me on this, but I think we should move the…the problem.”

“Don’t bring it up again,” Clay snapped.

“We can’t just close our eyes and hope for the best!” she responded.

“Digging around would only cause more problems.”

“Not if we could hide what we were doing.”

“We have to sit tight and wait for this added scrutiny to blow over,” Clay said. “That’s all.”

Grace wasn’t so sure the added scrutiny would blow over. Her own experience with police investigations led her to believe they’d be much better off getting rid of whatever remained of Lee Barker—if they could manage it without getting caught.

“You worry about your garden and your vegetable stand and Madeline and Molly and whatever else concerns you, and forget about the past, okay?” Clay said. “Leave that to me.”

Grace pulled the sheet up to her chin. Arguing with Clay wasn’t going to do any good. He was immovable. He’d always been in charge, and that was why she sometimes couldn’t help blaming him as much as she blamed herself for how things had gone eighteen years ago.

“Forget the past,” she repeated disbelievingly. Kennedy had given her the same glib advice.

“Exactly.”

“Impossible,” she said. Joe wouldn’t let her forget. She felt certain of that.

14

Irene studied Francine Eastman, who was standing in front of her at the deli inside the Piggly Wiggly, wondering how to strike up a conversation. Fran, as her friends called her, ran a bridge club for the social elite—so, of course, Irene had never been invited.

“The macaroni salad looks good today,” she said.

Since there were only the two of them waiting for Polly Zufelt to finish whatever she was doing in back, Fran couldn’t possibly mistake the fact that Irene was addressing her. But Fran still gave her a frown that said, “Are you talking to me?” “I guess,” she replied indifferently.

Irene straightened the pretty silk scarf she’d tied over her linen dress. “You gettin’ ready for bridge club?”

Fran assessed her coldly. “It’s Reva’s birthday. Polly’s just boxing up her cake.”

Reva, who was married to one of the more affluent farmers in the area, was Fran’s best friend. She came into the dress shop occasionally, but Irene didn’t like her any better than she did Fran. “So you’re having a little party when you’re finished playing cards?” she asked.

“That’s right,” Fran said. “I suppose you’re going back to work?”

Irene stiffened at the other woman’s condescending manner. She knew Fran’s words weren’t a simple observation—they were a reference to the vast difference between them. “Yes, but I’m not in any hurry. I can take as long as I like,” she said, then cursed herself for sounding so defensive.

Fran gave a little shrug. “I’m happy for you.”

Polly returned with Reva’s cake. “How’s that, Mrs. Eastman?”

“Fine, Polly. Thank you.”

Fran accepted the cake, but before she could put it in her cart, Irene spoke again. “Did you know Grace is back?”

There was a slight pause. “I’ve heard, yes,” Fran said as though she hardly considered it good news.

“She’s still not married, if you can believe it.”

“I can’t imagine why not,” Fran replied with a smug smile.

Irene knew she was referring to Grace’s reputation. Irene had heard the rumors that had circulated about her daughter, suspected many of them were true. But she blamed herself, not Grace. She should’ve gotten away from Lee as soon as she’d begun having misgivings about her marriage. If she hadn’t been so reluctant to leave Madeline behind, and so afraid her children would starve or be split up, she would have.

“Oh, well,” she said. “There’s hope yet. Now that she’s dating Kennedy, who knows what might happen?”

At that, Fran stumbled and nearly dropped the cake. “Kennedy who?”

Irene helped steady her. “Why, you know Kennedy Archer. His mother is one of your very best friends.”

Fran’s eyes bugged out as though she’d just swallowed her dentures. “It’s not true,” she breathed.

“Of course it is. He took her away for the weekend.”

“Who said?”

“He did. Ask him.”

“I think I will,” she snapped.

Irene laughed softly to herself as Fran nearly twisted an ankle in her hurry to get out of the store. “Have a nice day,” she called after her.

No doubt Fran had several calls to make. Irene didn’t care if she told the whole town. In fact, she hoped Fran would start with Kennedy’s own mother. Stillwater’s future mayor had taken Grace along with his boys, so his intentions seemed honorable, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it.