Read Online Copper Lake Confidential by Marilyn Pappano - Free Book Online Page A

Georgia. Granted, they’d paid the author to write it and the only copies that existed outside the family were in various Southern libraries.
    But a fiction writer—excluding the Howard family biographer—was different. Someone who wrote for the pure pleasure of writing, for the simple entertainment of others...that was cool.
    “Have you published anything?”
    A faint grimace flashed, though she suspected he’d tried to hide it.
    “I’m not the first person to ask that, am I?”
    “Pretty much everyone asks. I’ve had five books out. The sixth one is scheduled for this summer, and I’m working on the seventh.” Finished with his hamburger, he pushed to his feet, went into the office and returned with a hardcover novel, setting it beside her.
    “S. K. Noble.” She wiped her hands thoroughly on a napkin before picking it up. The cover was rich purple, the artwork in the center an image of a mysterious man with storm clouds swirling above the mountains behind him. “How cool. I’m sorry. I don’t read fantasy.”
    He sprawled back in his chair, reaching down to scratch Scooter with one hand. “No need to apologize. What do you read?”
    “ The Cat in the Hat. Goodnight, Moon. Sesame Street books. Anything with bright pictures, words that rhyme and messages short enough for the attention span of a three-year-old.” She flipped the book open, pausing to read the brief biography on the inside jacket. Too bad there was no photo of the author. In his office, with him looking as disheveled as it did, it would be charming. “How do you manage both working at the clinic and writing?”
    Paper crumpled as he scooped up the wrappers from their lunch and tossed them in the trash can under the sink. Instead of returning to sit, he leaned against the counter, his long legs crossed at the ankle. “Clinic until noon three days a week, plus every other Saturday. Write at home the rest of the time.”
    Guilt tickled her nape. “I’ve taken up an awful lot of your writing time,” she said as she stood. “Today, yesterday...”
    “Everyone takes a break now and then, especially for food. We don’t miss any meals around here, do we, Scooter?”
    The dog snuffled in agreement.
    She stood there a moment, torn between staying a little longer in any house that wasn’t her own and not wanting to disrupt his schedule. He’d invited her for lunch, but lunch was over. Manners won. “I should let you get to work and get back to my own work. I appreciate lunch. It was wonderful.” She started toward the door, and he and Scooter followed.
    “I’ll give you a ride home.”
    Macy paused in the open door, remembering that he’d driven. Then she glanced at the blue sky, the soft white clouds, the leaves rustling in the breeze. “I’d rather walk.” She liked walking and took Clary for a ramble through their Charleston neighborhood every day. But in all the years she’d lived here, she’d never walked down her own street because while gardening was an acceptable pursuit for Mark Howard’s wife, exercise where anyone could see wasn’t.
    “We’ll walk with you,” Stephen offered.
    She wouldn’t mind his company a little longer, but she shook her head. “That’s okay.” By herself, she could set her own pace. If she wanted to stop and stare at the woods, she could. If she wanted to stroll aimlessly and listen to the birds in the trees, no one would be inconvenienced.
    If she wanted to delay reaching the house and going inside as long as she could, no one would know.
    The two males stood at the top of the steps as she made her way to the sidewalk, across the lawn and out the gate. She turned back for a smile and a wave, then headed south.
    Her pace was steady, not the slow-and-go method Clary preferred. Her daughter could skip energetically for an entire block, then stop to examine everything from a crack in the sidewalk to a fallen leaf to an ant crawling over a blade of grass. Just the thought of her, squatting