Read Online Poisoned Tarts by G.A. McKevett - Free Book Online Page B

she asked.
    â€œLike hell.” He took the stick and popped it into the side of his mouth. “How do you suppose it’s going? Kicking nicotine is worse than going off heroin or cocaine. Ask any junkie who’s tried to shake all three.”
    Savannah made a mental note to question any non-cigarette smoking, former heroin/cocaine junkies she might encounter in the future. And while she was at it, she’d ask them if going cold turkey off those substances was half as miserable as a 1,000 calories a day diet that didn’t include chocolate—while you were in the throes of PMS.
    Now that was suffering!
    Dirk had been trying to quit smoking for months. The cinnamon sticks must be working. He was still officially on the smoke-free wagon.
    Or maybe it was the nicotine patches on his butt, the ones he didn’t think she knew about.
    She had found the wrappers among the taco and hamburger litter in the backseat of his car. And she’d checked the following day and found two more—a day when she’d seen him in nothing but a pair of cutoffs.
    Never try to fool a detective .
    Another one of her mottos.
    She turned in her seat and looked at him, studying his face in the one second flashes of headlights from passing cars.
    He did look tired. And older.
    She couldn’t help thinking that years ago, when they had first met, Dirk had definitely been a hunk—back when she had definitely been a babe. Now in their forties, they were…well…a little bit past hunk and babe. Not much past, but a tad.
    Too bad we didn’t realize how very hunkish and babeesque we were back then , she thought. We could have savored that brief time a little more .
    And she thought of something that Granny Reid had told her a few years ago.
    Savannah had been looking in her bathroom mirror, frowning at some new lines that were beginning on her forehead.
    â€œGran, I’m getting old,” she said. “Look at these wrinkles.”
    Granny walked up behind her, put her hands on Savannah’s shoulders, and peered at her granddaughter’s reflection in the mirror. “Lord have mercy, child. You aren’t old. What are you frettin’ about?”
    â€œI’m not as young as I used to be.”
    â€œWell, glory be, girl. Who is?” She turned Savannah around to face her. Her eyes shone with wisdom and good humor as she reached out with her forefinger and pushed one of Savannah’s dark curls out of her eyes and behind her ear. “Savannah girl, if the good God in heaven blesses you with long life, you will be old someday. And then, you’ll look back and realize how much of your sweet youth was just plum wasted worrying ’bout getting old. Don’t even start that nonsense, sugar. It’s such a foolish path to walk down.”
    Looking into her grandmother’s face, Savannah thought that she wouldn’t have taken away a single line from that sweet countenance. She couldn’t imagine changing one thing about this woman she adored—not one wrinkle, one gray hair, one extra pound.
    Maybe Gran was right. Maybe worrying about the inevitable and unavoidable was a waste of time and energy.
    â€œIf you’ve just got to worry about something,” Granny Reid continued, “worry about the child across town who’s going to bed hungry tonight or the young mother next door who can’t make her rent. That’s the sort of thing you might be able to do something about. Don’t bother about a little line on your face that don’t amount to a hill of beans.”
    And since that day, Savannah had spent less time peering into the mirror, searching for signs of aging. Instead, she had made a habit of looking deeply into the eyes of the woman in the mirror and saying in a voice that sounded a lot like Gran’s, “You’re doin’ good, sweetheart. You’ve been through your ups and downs, but you’ve mostly done your best. You’re