Read Online Black Thursday by Linda Joffe Hull - Free Book Online Page A

I tried to yell. “I’m not Kathy!” I tried to shout, but nothing came from my throat except the ping of an incoming text message.
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    I opened my eyes in a cold sweat, still trying to scream. Sitting up, I reached over to the nightstand for my cell phone and took a deep breath of the comforting but disconcerting aroma of cinnamon and bacon wafting through the air.
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    I tried not to process the surreal dream-meets-reality of sitting down to a post–Black Friday brunch 16 of bacon, eggs, and cinnamon French toast prepared by Joyce and accompanied by the other semi-early risers in the house: Barb, Gerald, Craig (who’d slept over on the family room couch after his ex picked up their kids early that morning), and Frank. Nowhere near ready to sort through my various feelings about Frank’s midnight confession, I thought about hiding out in the bedroom all day. Since I’d eaten almost nothing in almost twenty-four hours, however, hunger had me quickly thinking otherwise. Instead, I decided to make my appearance in the midst of the hustle and bustle, figuring there’d be relative safety, at least conversationally, in numbers.
    â€œMr. Piggledy left me a message that Mrs. Piggledy was released from the hospital and they’re on their way home,” I said.
    â€œThat’s a relief.” Joyce took a gravy boat full of maple syrup out of the microwave and placed it on the breakfast bar. “I’ve been worried about her.”
    â€œWas her foot broken?” Barb asked.
    â€œMr. Piggledy said she left in a cast.”
    â€œWhat about her head?” Barb asked.
    â€œI assume everything else must have checked out.” My head, on the other hand, was still spinning. It was hardly surprising that a jumbled collage of last night’s events featured prominently in my dreams, but had I really conjured up the syrup vessel I now held in my hand? “They’ve moved the commitment ceremony to the first-floor courtyard so Mrs. Piggledy won’t have to negotiate an escalator, but it’s still on and open to all tomorrow evening.”
    â€œBetween their monkey and that bird?” Frank asked, stabbing his fork into a piece of cantaloupe from the platter next to him.
    â€œToo weird,” Craig said.
    â€œBut interesting,” Barb said. “How often do you get invited to an inter-species wedding?”
    â€œI can’t wait,” Joyce said, smiling lovingly at Gerald. “I think the whole thing is kind of romantic.
    Gerald gave her a wink and speared a piece of bacon. “Love conquers all.”
    Last night’s craziness had clearly left me a marble short. Not only had I joined the breakfast fray, I’d practically invited the Michaels family to the wedding (or whatever it was). I also found myself wondering if last night’s heart-to-heart meant Frank might actually possess a fraction of his parent’s knack for marital magic after all. Then again, I was so starved from barely eating all day that even the Joyce-prepared bacon looked divine.
    So delicious, I barely noticed the measuring cups, flour, eggshells, and dirty mixing bowls littering my normally tidy countertops.
    I was sure I’d lost it when I took a syrup-soaked bite of what had to be the fluffiest, crunchiest, softest, most delicately battered treat I’d had in years.
    Joyce winked. “Not too bad, huh?”
    â€œWow!” I said.
    â€œSecret is stale bread,” she said. “I found some in the bread box.”
    Instead of spitting it out, I stuffed another bite into my mouth. “Delicious. Thank you, Joyce.”
    â€œMy pleasure,” she said. “I was too keyed up to really sleep, so I figured I might as well make myself useful.”
    One look at the dark half-moons under everyone but Joyce’s eyes (no doubt thanks to a pre-dawn application of the makeup she never allowed anyone to see her without) and I had to appreciate just how