Read Online Shakespeare's Trollop by Charlaine Harris - Free Book Online

insistently.
    â€œWell…Claude and I are going to get married today.”
    â€œAt the courthouse?” I tried not to sound astonished, but she flushed.
    â€œWe have to do it before we lose our courage,” she said in a rush. “We’re both set in our ways, we both have everything we could need to start a household, and we both want to have just a couple of good friends at the ceremony. The marriage license list’ll be out in the paper tomorrow and then everyone will know.” The legal notices always appeared in the local paper on Thursday afternoon.
    â€œBut…” I looked down at my working clothes, not exactly pristine after getting into closets and under beds at Deedra’s.
    â€œIf you want to run home, we have a few minutes,” she said, glancing down at her watch. “Not that I care what you wear, but if I know you, it’ll bother you the whole time.”
    â€œYes, not being clean at a wedding does bother me,” I said shortly. “Get in the car.”
    I couldn’t say why I felt a little angry, but I did. Maybe it was the surprise of it (I’m not fond of surprises) or maybe it was the switch in moods required of me: from death to marriage in a single day. I had become sure Claude Friedrich and Dr. Carrie Thrush would get married, and I’d become sure it was a good idea. The difference in ages was substantial; Claude was probably forty-eight or so, and Carrie was about thirty-two. But I was confident their marriage would work, and I hadn’t regretted turning down a chance to try intimacy with Claude myself. So why was I upset? I owed it to Carrie to be happy.
    I made myself smile as Carrie ran on and on about why they’d made their decision, how her parents were going to take it, how soon they could get Claude’s things moved into her small house.
    â€œWhat about a honeymoon?” I asked, as I turned the key in the lock of my own little house, Carrie practically on my heels.
    â€œThat’s going to have to wait for a month,” Carrie said. “We’ll take a long weekend starting today, from now until Monday night, but we’re not going far. And Claude has to take his beeper with him.”
    While Carrie alternated staring in the mirror and pacing the floor, I stripped off my cleaning clothes and pulled out my good black suit. No. Couldn’t wear black to a wedding. I grasped the hanger holding my sleeveless white dress. No, couldn’t wear white either.
    But after a second’s consideration, I realized I had to. I camouflaged it with my black jacket and a black belt, and I tucked a bright blue scarf into the neckline. I pulled up my thigh-highs, slid on my good black shoes, and replaced Carrie in front of the bathroom mirror to repowder and to fluff my short curly hair.
    â€œI would have given you a wedding shower,” I said sourly, and met Carrie’s eyes. After a little pause, we both began laughing, because that seemed such an unlikely scenario to both of us.
    â€œAre you ready? You look pretty,” Carrie said, giving me a careful once-over.
    â€œYou too,” I said honestly. With her short-sleeved white dress, she was wearing brown pumps and carrying a brown purse. She looked fine, but not exactly festive. We got back into my car, and as we passed a florist, I pulled in to the curb.
    â€œWhat?” Carrie asked anxiously. “We’re late.”
    â€œHold on a minute,” I said, and ran into the shop.
    â€œI need a corsage,” I told the old woman that came to help me.
    â€œAn orchid?” she asked. “Or some nice carnations?”
    â€œNot carnations,” I told her. “An orchid, with white net and a colored ribbon.”
    This admirable woman didn’t ask questions, she just went to work. In less than ten minutes, I was handing Carrie the orchid, netted in white and beribboned in green, and she tearfully pinned it to her dress.
    â€œNow you really