Free Birds of Prey by J. A. Jance Page B

looks like the fender of a fifty-seven Cadillac. The sad truth is, he’s absolutely right.”
          Naomi laughed. I liked the sound of it. Her laughter seemed to bubble up from her toes. It made me want to laugh right along with her.
          “What’s the story with her?” I asked, nodding toward the dancers as Marc Alley led Virginia Metz onto the floor.
          “She’s a breast-cancer survivor,” Naomi answered.
          “I figured as much,” I said.
          “What makes you say that?”
          “The short hair,” I said. “That’s always a dead giveaway.”
          “You’re wrong there,” Naomi told me. “Virginia’s a ten-year survivor. During chemo, she got used to wearing her hair short and never let it grow back. Dick probably had something to do with that.”
          “Who’s Dick?”
          “Her husband. He left her two weeks after she had her mastectomy. Told her he couldn’t handle the stress.”
          Hearing that, I couldn’t help thinking about Dave Livingston, my first wife’s second husband. He had cared for Karen with unstinting devotion and patient loving kindness all during her ultimately fatal battle with breast cancer. It was no coincidence that although Kayla Cartwright, my three-year-old granddaughter, has no grandmother on her mother’s side, she does have the benefit of two doting grandfathers — Grandpa (me) and Papa Dave. Obviously Dick Metz didn’t play in the same league as Kayla’s Papa Dave.
          “Sounds like a hell of a nice guy,” I said. “And what about Sharon? Did she fare any better than the rest of you as far as men are concerned?”
          Naomi shook her head. “Not much. She had one of those husbands you hear about from time to time, the ones who think they’re wired for two-twenty. In fact, Leonard Carson is on his second twenty-something right now. Sharon lasted until she was forty before he traded her in. The second Mrs. Carson only made it to thirty-five. He’s on number three at the moment, but now she’s getting a little long in the tooth as well, so I doubt she’ll be around much longer, either.”
          I shook my head. “You ladies sure do know how to pick ’em,” I said with an uneasy laugh.
          Naomi nodded. “That’s why we all stick together. We encourage meaningless relationships whenever possible in hopes of keeping the others from making any more stupid mistakes.” She glanced around the room. “Speaking of which, I’m surprised we haven’t seen them yet.”
          “Seen who?” I asked.
          She laughed. “Margaret and her current man of the hour. Make that man of the moment. She loves to brag. Gloating in solitary splendor isn’t her style. I’d think she would have let her current hunk out of bed long enough to bring him around so the rest of us could get a look at him. That’s what she would have done back in the old days.”
          “Maybe they’re having too much fun,” I suggested.
          “Maybe,” Naomi agreed, but her dubious tone made it sound as though she didn’t really believe it.
          Ever since we’d come into the lounge, I had been toying with a plan. Considering the way the conversation had gone for the last little while, there didn’t seem to be much point in mentioning it. But finally, about the time the orchestra took a break, I worked up enough courage to ask, “Are you going into Juneau tomorrow?”
          “I guess so,” Naomi said.
          “Would you care for some company?”
          She looked at me and smiled. “I think I’d like that. We’re supposed to dock around seven-thirty. Want to disembark with the early birds?”
          I was so surprised by how easy that was that I almost forgot to answer. “Sure,” I replied. “Why don’t we meet upstairs at the buffet about six-thirty or so, grab some breakfast, and then be ready to go ashore with the first