Read Online Scrapped by Mollie Cox Bryan - Free Book Online Page A

the brightness in her eyes.
    Sheila’s arm bumped into Annie as she pushed her glasses back up onto her nose. Sheila had actually put some more make-up on this morning than her usual smear of lipstick. And she looked great in that navy blue suit. Sheila had the body of a twenty-five-year-old. Vera sighed. It was all those years of running, which Vera hated. How could anybody get excited about it?
    “It’s not exciting,” Sheila had told her one day. “It’s that monotony that is a blessing. One foot in front of the other. That’s all I need to think about at that moment.”
    The four women walked down the stairs together quietly—not much could be spoken, just felt. A young woman heinously killed. Her family was at a loss. You could see it in their eyes. All of them looked hollow.
    A stab of fear shot through Vera. What if something like this were to happen to Elizabeth? How could she manage to survive? To go on living?
    The service was over, and the crowd meandered to the basement of the church. Long card tables were jammed full of the usual wake food—pies, pasta salads, cakes, shrimp, a meat tray with ham and roast beef, several cheese platters, several types of chicken (barbecued, fried, baked), corn pudding, and turkey.
    The wake was usually Bill’s favorite part of a funeral, but he was keeping Elizabeth and so he wasn’t here. The last funeral they had attended as a couple, they were still married, happily, or so she’d thought.
    “Oh, look at that red velvet cake,” Beatrice said quietly as they moved into the food line.
    “I can’t believe all this food,” Annie said, looking as if she were shell-shocked.
    “Oh, this is nothing,” Vera said. “You should have seen the food at Maggie Rae’s funeral.”
    “It’s part of our tradition,” Beatrice said.
    Once all their plates were piled high, they were able to find seats together at one of the tables.
    “How’s the scrapbook queens?” a male voice said behind Vera. She recognized it.
    “Detective Bryant,” Sheila said. “We are fine. And you?”
    “Just keeping an eye on things,” he said, looking at Annie. “How about you?”
    Annie nodded after taking a bite of red potato salad.
    “Don’t worry. I have her covered,” Beatrice said.
    He laughed, his blue eyes lighting up and his dimples deepening. “Now, that worries me, more than anything.”
    “You don’t look bad once you’re cleaned up a bit, Detective,” Beatrice said.
    “Mama! For heaven’s sake,” Vera said.
    He waved them off and then walked away. He was dressed in the same blue suit he’d worn for all the other recent funerals—it was probably custom-made. He was so broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips, Vera imagined he couldn’t buy directly off the rack. His sandy hair was combed nicely for a change, she noted.
    Vera bit into a perfectly seasoned piece of barbecued chicken. Now, these mountain folks knew how to barbecue a bird. Annie shoved a piece of shoofly pie, chock-full of molasses and brown sugar, into her mouth and chewed.
    She grimaced. “Ahh,” she said. “What is this? It looked good . . . but—”
    The next thing Vera knew, Annie was running outside for fresh air.
    “Shoofly,” Beatrice said, smacking her lips after another bite of red velvet cake. “Someone should have warned her.” Sometimes it took a while for outsiders to develop a taste for this toothsome molasses and brown sugar pie. Not only was it sweet enough that it could make your teeth ache, but it also had a surprisingly spicy bite. Some folks just couldn’t handle it.

Chapter 16
    Beatrice was looking at the Eiffel Tower, marveling at its height, the smooth yet geometric lines of it. She suddenly realized she was lying on the ground, in between beds of flowers on soft green grass, and beyond the lit tower was the Paris night sky.
    Ed was present, his hand resting in hers, and as they looked at each other, his face beamed. He had always wanted to take her to Paris. Here