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Authors: Barbara Levenson
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table. “ I thought you’d understand. I’m sorry I told you about him. I didn’t ask you as my lawyer. Just as a friend, but you sound like you’re my lawyer.”
I pulled Sherry’s arm and she sat down again. “I am your friend. I just don’t want you to get hurt. I understand how physical attractions can sometimes get in the way of reality. Please don’t think I’m judging you, but how far has this relationship gone?”
“If you mean are we having sex, the answer is yes. I’m not a little kid. I’m almost twenty.”
“Have you been to his home, met his family?”
“His parents are dead. They left him the farm. I’m planning on going down there over the weekend, so I’ll give you a report when I get back. Please, promise me you’ll keep all this confidential.”
“Okay, Sherry, but please, call me when you get back. I’ll be here for at least a week, so we can get together again and you can tell me all about the farm.”
We left the little shop. Sherry waved as she headed back to campus. Sam and I decided to do a bit of shopping, something I never have time for. I had a mental picture of Sherry in her sports car and expensive wardrobe helping to milk the cows or muck out the barn. Maybe the best thing to end this unlikely affair was a visit to Carson’s farm.
.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
It was after three o’clock when we returned to Lucy’s house. I had acquired two mystery novels from the Dartmouth Bookstore where I found more books than I’d ever seen under one roof. I had also purchased an expensive pair of Ugg boots and a warm leather jacket. The credit card slips in the bags made me aware that I had just spent more money on myself than my usual twice a year sale shopping. This is a vacation so a little extravagance won’t kill me, I rationalized.
As Sam and I entered the kitchen, I realized that the dirty dishes in the sink were gone. They had been placed back in the cupboard.
“Maybe Lucy’s caretaker doubles as a maid,” I said to Sam “Lucy never mentioned anything about someone coming in to clean the house. I certainly wasn’t expecting maid service. I guess Lucy remembered about our sloppy habits.” Sam looked disinterested and I realized that I was doing more conversing with my dog lately, sort of like an old maid cat lady.
I went to the hall phone to try to call Lucy, but it still had no dial tone. My cell phone showed no service as well.
Now I can’t communicate with Lucy or anyone else until I go back down to the village tomorrow, I thought. I glanced down on the hall table and saw a stack of mail next to the phone. There were several letters and bills. The top one was addressed to Carolyn Brousseau. The next one was addressed to The Brousseau Family. My heart jumped. Why wasn’t the mail addressed to the Sterns? Wasn’t Brousseau the name of the woman who was murdered? What was mail addressed to a murder victim doing in Lucy Stern’s house? My heart raced into panic mode.
Sam and I heard a loud thump, like a door slamming. Sam’s ears shot up and he bolted up the front stairway, barking loudly. He stopped in front of the locked door, his hair on end. Then he went into full bark and growl attack, pawing at the door. He looked exactly like he does when the Florida Power and Light guy comes to read the meter.
I grabbed Sam’s collar and dragged him away from the door before he left his scratch marks imbedded in the old wood. I tripped as we tussled down the front stairway. Back in the front hall, I remembered the stack of mail and picked it up. There was an electric bill, a statement from a brokerage house, and two ads. I stood there trying to figure out how that mail got into this house. Then I heard footsteps on the back stairs.
I grabbed the stack of mail and grabbed Sam by his collar. Sam pulled me through the front door. The mail, Sam, and I tumbled into the SUV. Lucy had told me that all the village mail was picked up at the post office. There is no delivery on
I pulled Sherry’s arm and she sat down again. “I am your friend. I just don’t want you to get hurt. I understand how physical attractions can sometimes get in the way of reality. Please don’t think I’m judging you, but how far has this relationship gone?”
“If you mean are we having sex, the answer is yes. I’m not a little kid. I’m almost twenty.”
“Have you been to his home, met his family?”
“His parents are dead. They left him the farm. I’m planning on going down there over the weekend, so I’ll give you a report when I get back. Please, promise me you’ll keep all this confidential.”
“Okay, Sherry, but please, call me when you get back. I’ll be here for at least a week, so we can get together again and you can tell me all about the farm.”
We left the little shop. Sherry waved as she headed back to campus. Sam and I decided to do a bit of shopping, something I never have time for. I had a mental picture of Sherry in her sports car and expensive wardrobe helping to milk the cows or muck out the barn. Maybe the best thing to end this unlikely affair was a visit to Carson’s farm.
.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
It was after three o’clock when we returned to Lucy’s house. I had acquired two mystery novels from the Dartmouth Bookstore where I found more books than I’d ever seen under one roof. I had also purchased an expensive pair of Ugg boots and a warm leather jacket. The credit card slips in the bags made me aware that I had just spent more money on myself than my usual twice a year sale shopping. This is a vacation so a little extravagance won’t kill me, I rationalized.
As Sam and I entered the kitchen, I realized that the dirty dishes in the sink were gone. They had been placed back in the cupboard.
“Maybe Lucy’s caretaker doubles as a maid,” I said to Sam “Lucy never mentioned anything about someone coming in to clean the house. I certainly wasn’t expecting maid service. I guess Lucy remembered about our sloppy habits.” Sam looked disinterested and I realized that I was doing more conversing with my dog lately, sort of like an old maid cat lady.
I went to the hall phone to try to call Lucy, but it still had no dial tone. My cell phone showed no service as well.
Now I can’t communicate with Lucy or anyone else until I go back down to the village tomorrow, I thought. I glanced down on the hall table and saw a stack of mail next to the phone. There were several letters and bills. The top one was addressed to Carolyn Brousseau. The next one was addressed to The Brousseau Family. My heart jumped. Why wasn’t the mail addressed to the Sterns? Wasn’t Brousseau the name of the woman who was murdered? What was mail addressed to a murder victim doing in Lucy Stern’s house? My heart raced into panic mode.
Sam and I heard a loud thump, like a door slamming. Sam’s ears shot up and he bolted up the front stairway, barking loudly. He stopped in front of the locked door, his hair on end. Then he went into full bark and growl attack, pawing at the door. He looked exactly like he does when the Florida Power and Light guy comes to read the meter.
I grabbed Sam’s collar and dragged him away from the door before he left his scratch marks imbedded in the old wood. I tripped as we tussled down the front stairway. Back in the front hall, I remembered the stack of mail and picked it up. There was an electric bill, a statement from a brokerage house, and two ads. I stood there trying to figure out how that mail got into this house. Then I heard footsteps on the back stairs.
I grabbed the stack of mail and grabbed Sam by his collar. Sam pulled me through the front door. The mail, Sam, and I tumbled into the SUV. Lucy had told me that all the village mail was picked up at the post office. There is no delivery on
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