Read Online Stabbing Stephanie by Evan Marshall - Free Book Online Page A

it a little later?”
    â€œOf course! Just say when.” Smiling, Florence hurried off to the kitchen.
    At that moment Winky hurried in from the family room and greeted Jane with a high mew. Jane scooped up the cat and stroked her fur. “And how were those cookies?” she asked with a laugh. “Maybe you’ll need to go on the Stillkin diet, too!”
    Jane carried Winky into her study off the living room and resumed reading Nathaniel Barre’s manuscript with Winky on her lap.
    With each page, Jane felt a rising sense of excitement. This man was good, exceptionally good. This book was not simply of publishable quality. This writer was quite possibly a rare talent, an artist of unusual insight. At this point in the story, the young man had just been fired from his position at the university. Now he had nothing and no one. Jane found herself wiping a tear from her eye. She found as she read that she literally could not stop reading. From years of experience, Jane knew this was a true find.
    â€œMissus—”
    Jane jumped. Winky let out an irritated squeak.
    â€œSorry,” Florence said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. But I have a question. I’m making barbecued pork for dinner, a recipe from my mother in Trinidad. Can you eat that on your Stillkin? I have a feeling not.”
    â€œ ’Fraid not, though it sounds fabulous. Don’t worry about me. I have the foods I bought today. I’ll be fine.”
    â€œOkey-doke,” Florence said, but looked doubtful as she walked away.
    Jane returned to her reading. The young man had returned to the mysterious old alchemist’s shop, and as he explored it, magical events began to occur. His cat spontaneously levitated while standing on the ancient worktable. A page in an open book turned. Yet the author related these occurrences in a completely matter-of-fact way, the young man barely reacting at all, which made Jane wonder what the author hadn’t yet revealed about him. It was all quite strange, yet totally engrossing.
    A few pages later, Winky stood up on Jane’s lap and began kneading her upper arm.
    â€œWinky, stop it. You know I hate it when you do that. Ouch!” With an exclamation of impatience she shooed the cat off her lap. Now that her attention had been drawn away from the manuscript, she realized, to her amazement, that she was hungry and would like her Stillkin shake now. She placed the manuscript on her desk and wandered into the kitchen.
    Florence looked up from onions she was chopping. “Ready for your shake?” she said, as if reading Jane’s mind.
    Jane nodded eagerly.
    Florence, bless her, had all the ingredients neatly lined up in front of the blender. Deftly she poured in skim milk, yogurt, a banana, a dash of cinnamon, and a full cup of the bran Jane had bought that morning. She blended all these ingredients for a good half minute, then put ice cubes into a tall glass and poured the shake over them.
    â€œHere you go!”
    Jane took the glass. “Would you like a taste?”
    â€œYes, as a matter of fact I would,” Florence said, and took a healthy sip. She grimaced. “It’s . . . different,” she said in a strangled voice, and quickly handed it back.
    Warily Jane eyed the pale yellow mixture. She mustn’t hurt Florence’s feelings. She smiled and took a big gulp. It tasted like . . . a barnyard. Wanting to spit it out, Jane forced a huge close-mouthed smile. “Mmm!”
    â€œIt’s awful,” Florence said. “I won’t be offended if you dump it out, missus.”
    â€œNot on your life. This is just what I need. Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Florence. With your help I’ll get rid of those eight pounds and be stunning in my tankini.”
    â€œThat’s the spirit.” Florence checked the clock on the wall beside the fridge. It was 2:30. “Ooh—better get my little man at school.” Hurriedly she