Free The Curse of the Holy Pail #2 by Sue Ann Jaffarian Page A

nervous horse ready to bolt.
    From the corner of my eye, I saw Karla Blake lean toward her husband, who bent down stiffly to hear her words. "What's she doing here?" I heard her whisper tightly to Jackson.
    For a brief moment I thought she was referring to me, and then I noticed Jackson looking beyond me to someone else.
    "She still lives here, Karla," he whispered back calmly. "She has until the end of the month."
    As I walked away with Mr. Wallace, I glanced discretely in the direction of their attention and noted a middle-aged woman standing by the archway leading into the formal dining room. For the most part, the woman stood alone. Occasionally, someone approached her, said a few words, and received a sad, forlorn smile and nod in return. She was very attractive, medium in height, tiny in the waist, suggestively full in the hips and breasts. She had a true old-fashioned hourglass figure, which her conservative gray dress and matching pumps tried hard to downplay. Her dark blond hair was threaded with subtle highlights and curved gently at the ends, framing her face just below her chin in a becoming manner.
    I plucked gently on Mr. Wallace's coat sleeve. "Who's that?" I asked, indicating the woman by the dining room doorway.
    "That's Stella, Stella Hughes. She was engaged to Sterling until recently."
    So that was the gold-digging fiancee, I said silently to myself. Since my idea of a gold digger is a young, hot babe in a miniskirt sporting fake boobs, I looked at Stella Hughes with great curiosity. But then again, anyone could woo someone for their money. To my knowledge, there were no education or licensing standards for the job, like a doctor or lawyer. And although far from young, Stella Hughes was very sexy.
    "What happened?" I asked Mr. Wallace, hoping to get the scoop.
    He shrugged and hesitated. The combined gestures put me on alert. He was about to claim far less information than he really knew. You don't work for a man for umpteen years and not learn his habits and stall tactics.
    "Not sure," he lied. My eyes pleaded with him in silence and he grudgingly continued. "The breakup was very recent."
    "She lives here?" I asked casually, hoping to prod more information from the Wallace vault.
    "Yes, at least for a few more weeks. Sterling let her stay on to give her time to relocate."
    How civil, I thought to myself, remembering with a shiver the same offer from Franklin Powers when I ended our engagement, relationship, and live-in arrangement. Franklin had been sadly sweet in his offer to let me stay in a guest room of his house while I located and purchased a place of my own. He cited that it would be easier than moving my things twice. His argument, presented with all of his lawyerly skill, was a good one, and I had accepted. After less than two weeks of pure torture, with Franklin swinging between guilt and abuse in his bid to change my mind about marrying him, I fled.
    A man I recognized as another of Mr. Wallace's longtime cronies strode over and greeted us, cutting off my questions. Mr. Wallace seemed relieved. It saved him from having to tell me to mind my own business. As the men spoke of golf, I excused myself and headed for the buffet set out in the dining room. I set my path accidentally on purpose to take me directly past Stella Hughes.
    Daintily, I picked at the sandwiches, selecting two. They were the kind rolled jelly-roll style in flat Middle-Eastern bread and sliced into pinwheels. I had worked through lunch, grabbing only a vegetable-flavored Cup-a-Soup along the way. Looking at the filled table, my stomach was not shy about reminding me of that fact. I silently reminded it back that Greg was taking us out to dinner in a few hours. Internal discussion ended, I also chose two mini quiches and topped off my plate with some cherry tomatoes and a couple of carrot sticks. When I failed to see peanut butter, I passed on the celery. Rounding out my snack was a small glass of chilled white wine served to me