Read Online Agnes and the Hitman by Jennifer Crusie - Free Book Online Page B

window rolled down, and he’d saved me from being shot, so I violated procedure from gratitude —and then headed for Joey’s.
    If he wasn’t careful, Keyes was going to be the death of him.

    Agnes had heard the car doors slam and had said a fast prayer before she smoothed down the skirt of her red cotton sundress in an attempt to look like a lady or at least like Brenda, shoved her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and picked up the tray of lemonade and sweet tea.
    Then she’d carried the tray into the hall and out through the beautiful big carved double front doors, propped open now for some cross-ventilation because it was hotter than hell in the house; across the lovely veranda that would be even lovelier if it had some goddamn paint on it; down the wide gracious front steps that were a real bitch to negotiate with a tray that heavy not to mention sandals with heels, thank you; and over the front lawn to meet the new arrivals: Brenda, looking beautiful as ever in a full-skirted rayon number, and
    Evie, looking cool and boring in white piped beige Chanel and pearls, all but screaming, I got good taste and you don’t.
    “Agnes, you look lovely,” Evie said as she glided toward her.
    “Evie, I’m sweating like a racehorse,” Agnes said. “Let’s have the tasting in the gazebo, shall we?”
    “Certainly,” Evie said, changing course around the house toward the gazebo without missing a step.
    “Oh, Agnes, honey,” Brenda said, slowing as she saw the front door open. “You shouldn’t leave that door open, sugar, it’s bad for my grandfather clock.”
    You shouldn’t leave your grandfather clock here, it’s bad for my hall, Agnes thought, and then felt guilty because Brenda had given them such a deal on the mortgage, especially the first three months’ payments in exchange for holding the wedding there, so she just said, “Well, whenever you’re ready to move it out, Brenda, it’s right there waiting for you,” and steered them around the side of the house.
    “The gazebo looks beautiful,” Brenda said, gliding along the flagstone walk in her three-inch heels, and Agnes smiled because it really did and because Brenda was pleased with it. Then Brenda added, “That fresh paint just gleams, Agnes,” and let her eyes slide to the scabby-looking house.
    “Doyle’s putting the primer on the house today,” Agnes said, feeling guilt swamp her. “By Saturday, this place will look like Tara.” With butter.
    “I do hate to see you go to so much trouble,” Evie said, sweetly, “when the country club is just—”
    “No trouble,” Agnes said brightly. “Wait till you see the gazebo ceiling. It’s going to be perfect for the ceremony. Maria and Palmer will look adorable up there.” Did I just say ‘adorable’? She shook her head and led them across the lawn and up the steps to the table inside. “There now. Isn’t this lovely?”
    “You know, it is,” Evie said, sounding surprised as she looked up at the rafters that Doyle had painted blue and Agnes had added gold-leaf stars to.
    Brenda looked up at the ceiling and said, “Oh, Agnes, you do like things bright, bless your heart.”
    Agnes smiled uncertainly and looked up at the stars again. She’d thought they were beautiful, like an illustration out of an old book. Maybe she should have checked with Brenda first ...
    “Well, I think they’re very nice,” Evie said firmly. “Neoclassical.”
    Agnes blinked at her in surprise.
    “Of course,” Brenda said, smiling at Evie. “Neoclassical. Maria’s coming with Palmer. They’re just so darling together, don’t you think?”
    “Yes,” Evie said, with a noticeable lack of warmth. Her face remained smooth, so it was hard to tell if the coolness was for Brenda for being too familiar with a Keyes or for Maria for having the audacity to marry into the family. Nobody could object to Maria herself, but it might very well be sticking in Evie’s craw that this wedding meant she was eventually