Elizabeth Taylor, if you donât believe me.â
âKill her for me, would you?â Maddy said to Jessie, who was, at that moment, pulling the top of her sundress away from her body enough to gaze down at her size 34B bra and sighing sadly.
âMaybe if we made a pact,â Jessie suggested. âWe both kill her, and then we alibi each other.â
âWorks for me. Iâm pretty handy with a shovel now, and thereâs all that loose dirt I worked over at the bottom of the rose garden last week. Sheâs small and skinny enough that it wouldnât take much to fold her up and stick her in the ground. Pity she isnât bigger, actually. She could have made great compost.â
âSuch ingratitude. And to think, Jessie dear, that I havenât even shown you the breast enhancement brochure I brought home from Dr. Stephensâs office last week, after weâd discussed my knee lift. All sorts of options for breasts these days, rather like a Chinese menu. Rounded, perky, upthrust, Dolly Parton. You name it. Although it is the one menu where youâd make a mistake if you took one from Column A and one from Column B. Now, out of my way.â
Almira spread out her arms, signaling for her two now bug-eyed granddaughters to part in front of her like the Red Sea, and walked between them to inspect the brownies for herself. âOh, stop looking at me as if I had two heads. You two ought to go on the stage,â she said, then poked a finger in the center of the uncut brownies. âSmell good, Maddy. Tell me, if I let it slip that Iâve invited Joe to the wedding and heâs accepted, do you think you could get angryenough to bake one of those angel food cakes with the little confetti sprinkles in it? We havenât had one of those in weeks.â
Maddy walked over to the double sink, ran water in the mixing bowl. âJessie, would you please tell our grandmother to take a flying leap off the nearestââ
âOh, stop it, Madeline,â Allie cut in, searching in a drawer for a knife. Brownies were good. Maddyâs from-scratch brownies were wonderful. But warm-from-the-oven brownies, Almira had found since her youngest granddaughter had gone domestic on them, were as near to an occasion of sin sheâd been in ten long years. âI did it for the best.â
âThe best! Whose best? Jessie, ask our grandmother whose best she did this for, will you, please? Certainly it couldnât have been mine. â Maddy picked up the water-filled mixing bowl and whirled to face her grandmother across the wide, chopping block table in the center of the huge kitchen. âAnd then tell her to duck!â
Jessie fought the impulse to hide under the table, out of the line of fire. âNow, Maddy, remember what happened the day you turned the garden hose on Ryan, and then found out it was Allie and not him who had been practicing chipping on that newly planted bit of lawn? Remember? She showed up around the corner not a minute after youâd nearly drowned Ryan, the nine iron still in her hand. You know you always regret it when you give in to your temper. Especially when you hate apologizing to anyone.â
âThatâs true enough, on all counts,â Almira said,calmly slicing herself a two-inch square wedge of warm brownie and placing it on a piece of antique Beleek china sheâd retrieved from the overhead, glass-doored cupboard. âAnd, as Mrs. Hadley would have your head if you messed up her kitchen, you probably should rethink weapons, at the very least.â
Maddy put down the bowl and pressed both hands to her head. âInsane. Iâm going insane. Iâm surprised Iâve held on to my sanity this long.â
âHello? Anybody home? Maddy?â
Maddyâs head jerked up at the sound of Matthew Garveyâs voice. âOh, God, no. Not now, not now.â
âIâll head him off at the pass, give you some time to
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