Read Online Murder Sends a Postcard (A Haunted Souvenir) by Christy Fifield - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christy Fifield
Ads: Link
“Hi, Matthew. I’m very glad to see you.”
I stood back up and patted his mop of unruly sun-bleached hair. “How are you?”
“Good. Can I feed your bird?”
Bluebeard muttered again. I think Melissa had hurt his feelings, and I was grateful for Matthew’s little-boy enthusiasm.
I led Matthew to the biscuit tin and let him extract a couple of the shredded-wheat squares that were Bluebeard’s usual treat. Looking at the parrot, I said, “If he behaves himself, I’ll let you give him some banana a little later.”
His grin told me I had scored some important auntie points.
Peggy hadn’t spoken a word since she’d emerged from the back of the shop. In fact, she didn’t seem able to even look me in the eye. Her gaze seemed rooted somewhere around my navel, her brow furrowed as though she was trying to unravel a particularly puzzling problem.
“Peggy?” I said.
Her eyes flickered to my face and then back down.
“Honey?” Even Peter, oblivious as ever, had noticed her concern. “Is something wrong?”
Peggy pulled her lips in, biting them as if to prevent her thoughts from spilling out. She shook her head slightly and unclenched her lips. “No,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
Matthew was feeding Bluebeard, ignoring the grown-up drama taking place a few feet behind his back, and Melissa had moved several paces away as though once again putting as much distance as possible between herself and the adults.
Silence stretched as we waited for Peggy to continue. Something was clearly bothering her, but I didn’t know what, and Peter, as always, didn’t have a clue.
Finally Melissa broke the uncomfortable silence with a dramatic sigh. “Mom, just
ask
, for God’s sake!”
“Melissa! Do not take the Lord’s name in vain!” Peter seized on his daughter’s expression as a way to extract himself from whatever was upsetting his wife. But Melissa wasn’t having any of it.
“Oh, Dad,” she said in her most disgusted almost-a-teenager tone. “Really? Mom is about to lose it, and you’re worried about my language?” She shook her head, clearly incredulous that her parents could be so clueless.
Peggy, meanwhile, still hadn’t spoken, and didn’t look as though she was going to.
Melissa tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder with a flip of her head, dismissing her father. “Mom, if you won’t ask, I will.”
Peggy didn’t respond. Melissa turned and looked at me. Something in her expression told me I was being tested. I hoped I wouldn’t fail.
“Aunt Gloryanna, why is there a baby crib in your back room?”
It took a few seconds for her question, and the meaning of Peggy’s stare, to sink in. I started to laugh, but before I could explain, Peter broke in angrily.
“Is that why you wouldn’t come visit Mother and Dad? Why you’ve been avoiding us? Glory, what were you
thinking?
”
I stopped laughing, anger bubbling in my stomach like a cup of bad coffee. I felt my face flush and my hands clenched into fists.
“Oh, no,” Bluebeard said softly.
I had to control my temper.
One.
Two.
Three.
I couldn’t punch Peter in front of his wife and kids, much as I wanted to.
Four.
Five.
I would not swear at him with Melissa and Matthew listening.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Even if he was being a judgmental asshat.
Nine.
Ten.
Like hell I wouldn’t.
“What the hell?” My voice was loud, but I didn’t scream, and my language was milder than it might have been. I’d had Bluebeard as an example, after all. But I got my point across.
“A—a crib?” Peter stammered.
“So what if there is?” I shot back. “Would you just hold off on your judgmental BS for a minute?”
I turned my back on Peter and addressed Melissa. “Yes, there’s a baby crib back there. And a changing table, a rocking chair, and a chest full of diapers. They are for my friend Julie who works here part-time, so she can bring her baby with her when she doesn’t have a babysitter.”
I felt a
I stood back up and patted his mop of unruly sun-bleached hair. “How are you?”
“Good. Can I feed your bird?”
Bluebeard muttered again. I think Melissa had hurt his feelings, and I was grateful for Matthew’s little-boy enthusiasm.
I led Matthew to the biscuit tin and let him extract a couple of the shredded-wheat squares that were Bluebeard’s usual treat. Looking at the parrot, I said, “If he behaves himself, I’ll let you give him some banana a little later.”
His grin told me I had scored some important auntie points.
Peggy hadn’t spoken a word since she’d emerged from the back of the shop. In fact, she didn’t seem able to even look me in the eye. Her gaze seemed rooted somewhere around my navel, her brow furrowed as though she was trying to unravel a particularly puzzling problem.
“Peggy?” I said.
Her eyes flickered to my face and then back down.
“Honey?” Even Peter, oblivious as ever, had noticed her concern. “Is something wrong?”
Peggy pulled her lips in, biting them as if to prevent her thoughts from spilling out. She shook her head slightly and unclenched her lips. “No,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
Matthew was feeding Bluebeard, ignoring the grown-up drama taking place a few feet behind his back, and Melissa had moved several paces away as though once again putting as much distance as possible between herself and the adults.
Silence stretched as we waited for Peggy to continue. Something was clearly bothering her, but I didn’t know what, and Peter, as always, didn’t have a clue.
Finally Melissa broke the uncomfortable silence with a dramatic sigh. “Mom, just
ask
, for God’s sake!”
“Melissa! Do not take the Lord’s name in vain!” Peter seized on his daughter’s expression as a way to extract himself from whatever was upsetting his wife. But Melissa wasn’t having any of it.
“Oh, Dad,” she said in her most disgusted almost-a-teenager tone. “Really? Mom is about to lose it, and you’re worried about my language?” She shook her head, clearly incredulous that her parents could be so clueless.
Peggy, meanwhile, still hadn’t spoken, and didn’t look as though she was going to.
Melissa tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder with a flip of her head, dismissing her father. “Mom, if you won’t ask, I will.”
Peggy didn’t respond. Melissa turned and looked at me. Something in her expression told me I was being tested. I hoped I wouldn’t fail.
“Aunt Gloryanna, why is there a baby crib in your back room?”
It took a few seconds for her question, and the meaning of Peggy’s stare, to sink in. I started to laugh, but before I could explain, Peter broke in angrily.
“Is that why you wouldn’t come visit Mother and Dad? Why you’ve been avoiding us? Glory, what were you
thinking?
”
I stopped laughing, anger bubbling in my stomach like a cup of bad coffee. I felt my face flush and my hands clenched into fists.
“Oh, no,” Bluebeard said softly.
I had to control my temper.
One.
Two.
Three.
I couldn’t punch Peter in front of his wife and kids, much as I wanted to.
Four.
Five.
I would not swear at him with Melissa and Matthew listening.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Even if he was being a judgmental asshat.
Nine.
Ten.
Like hell I wouldn’t.
“What the hell?” My voice was loud, but I didn’t scream, and my language was milder than it might have been. I’d had Bluebeard as an example, after all. But I got my point across.
“A—a crib?” Peter stammered.
“So what if there is?” I shot back. “Would you just hold off on your judgmental BS for a minute?”
I turned my back on Peter and addressed Melissa. “Yes, there’s a baby crib back there. And a changing table, a rocking chair, and a chest full of diapers. They are for my friend Julie who works here part-time, so she can bring her baby with her when she doesn’t have a babysitter.”
I felt a
Similar Books
