Read Online A Catered Fourth of July by Isis Crawford - Free Book Online Page B

homemade ice cream.
    â€œAlways a good thing. We could do sorbets as well.”
    â€œWe should talk to Stonewall Dairies,” Bernie suggested, “and see if they can give us a deal on milk and cream.”
    â€œI’ll call them later today,” Libby promised.
    The sisters worked in silence for the next couple minutes. When Libby was done with the last of the pies and had them all safely secured in the oven, she poured herself a second cup of coffee and perched on one of the kitchen stools. “I’ve been thinking,” she began as she stirred a lump of raw sugar into her coffee.
    Bernie looked up from putting frilly cupcake papers into muffin tins. “Always a dangerous occupation,” she cracked.
    Libby ignored her and continued on with what she’d been about to say. “Do you believe that Rick Evans really didn’t care that his wife was sleeping with Jack Devlin?”
    â€œNo,” Bernie promptly replied. “I’ve never met a guy who didn’t care about something like that. Even the ones who don’t like having sex, care. It’s a control thing.”
    Libby raised an eyebrow. “Is there such a thing as a man who doesn’t like sex?”
    Bernie laughed. “I think there might be one or two out there. Not our men of course, but I know that Brandon would leave me if I fooled around.”
    Libby reached over, snatched one of the strawberries that was about to become part of a strawberry chiffon pie, and ate it. “So would Marvin.”
    â€œRick Evans is a Type A control freak. If Gail did something like that, he’d be livid.” Bernie began pouring the batter into the paper cups. On three occasions, she had placed the paper cups on baking sheets instead of in muffin tins and the batter had ended up spilling over the sheets and onto the counters. Definitely not worth the cleanup. Using the muffin tins was a little slower, but definitely safer. And faster in the end. It was a tortoise and hare kind of thing.
    â€œMaybe they really do have an open marriage,” Libby suggested while she handed Bernie a strawberry. “Maybe Rick was telling the truth down at the station. Or maybe he just likes to watch. Maybe he’s a voyeur.”
    â€œMaybe,” Bernie said, plucking the stem out with her fingernails and plopping the berry into her mouth. “But this is Longely, gossip capital of the world. If he and his wife were doing that, we would have heard. But I haven’t heard a hint of anything like that. A whisper. Anything at all. Have you?”
    â€œNope.”
    Bernie ate another strawberry. “Neither has Brandon. So there you go.”
    â€œIt doesn’t mean it’s not happening,” Libby objected.
    â€œTrue. But it makes it more likely that it isn’t.”
    â€œOkay then,” Libby continued. “We come to Gail. Do you believe that she wasn’t furious when she found out that Jack Devlin was stepping out on her with Juno Grisham, her arch nemesis?”
    â€œWho also happened to conveniently be there when Devlin was killed,” Bernie pointed out.
    â€œExcept she was on the hill, which is nowhere near where the reenactment took place. We saw her there, remember?”
    â€œOf course I remember,” Bernie replied. “She was quite the spectacle with those wings.”
    â€œShe had a good motive, but the husbands of those two women had better ones. And what about David Nancy? His wife—” Libby paused because she couldn’t remember her name.
    Bernie supplied the name. “Cora. I’m sure he wasn’t too pleased either.”
    â€œIf he knew.”
    â€œTrue.” Bernie went over to the refrigerator and poured herself a cup of iced coffee. “The husbands are usually the last to know, although given the level of gossip in this town that’s probably not true.” She shook her head. “Just thinking about who did what with whom is giving