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

by a waiter.
    Stella Hughes was still standing by the entrance to the dining room when I completed filling my plate. She seemed to have staked out that spot as her territory. A couple stopped to give her a few quick words of comfort and moved on. No one seemed to be hovering around her like they were the family members. Nonchalantly, I sidled over to where she stood. I was beginning to think the wine was a mistake as I worried about juggling the glass while trying to eat. Then, spotting a small hutch near the doorway and just to the side of Stella, I moved in and set my wine down, turning the unsuspecting table into a good excuse to stay near my prey.
    Stella Hughes' uninterested glance passed over me no longer than a sigh. Up close, I could see under her carefully applied makeup the fine lines and dulling skin of aging, and that at one time she had been a true beauty, undoubtedly a blond bombshell. She smelled faintly of joy, a fragrance I loved on most people but not on me. Quick as a bunny, I polished off a quiche the size of a halfdollar and took a sip of wine.
    "Joy," I said simply and in her direction.
    "Excuse me?" Stella Hughes asked, giving me a smidgen of attention.
    "Joy. You're wearing Joy."
    She looked at me, puzzled, then smiled slightly as she caught my drift. "Why yes, I am." Her voice was deep and sexy, the kind of voice you would expect to hear on the other end of one of those 900 numbers.
    "One of my favorites," I told her. "You wear it well."
    She turned so that she was looking directly at me, her expression and body language now inviting conversation. "Thank you," she replied. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know you."
    It is so easy to start up a conversation with a strange woman. Men have no idea. Just compliment a woman on her perfume, shoes, or hair, and you have an instant buddy. Ask about her kids and you make bonus points. Asking about grandchildren gets you invited to Thanksgiving.
    I put my plate down on top of the hutch and wiped my fingers on a napkin, then extended my clean right hand. "Odelia Grey. I'm a paralegal. I work for Sterling Homes' attorneys"
    "Stella Hughes."
    "Sterling's fiancee?" I asked.
    Stella stuck out her chin ever so slightly, presenting a look that invited a challenge. "Former fiancee," she corrected me in throaty tones. The woman appraised me with her eyes, which were dark and calculating. For the third time in just a few minutes, I felt like I was under a microscope. This certainly was not a trustful bunch.
    "I'm sorry," I apologized. "For both that and for your recent loss. It still must be very difficult for you."
    "Thank you, Odelia," she said, her husky voice fringed with grief that may or may not have been real. "A lot of people here don't understand that." She looked at the family cluster, then back at me. "We only just broke up, and it wasn't at all acrimonious."
    A mean-spirited, low cackle popped out from between my lips, surprising me. "I once broke off an engagement myself and thought at the time that it had ended friendly," I told Stella. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered the opposite."
    Geez, I thought, maybe Franklin did haunt my relationship with Greg. I picked up my wine glass and knocked back the tangy beverage like a shot of NyQuil.
    "That bad?" Stella asked. I looked at her in surprise, suddenly realizing that she had witnessed my frenzied downing of alcohol. She was surveying me now with a look of frank amusement.
    "Better than anything you've seen on the Lifetime channel," I told her with a wry grin.
    Stella Hughes produced a laugh that bordered on a small snort. Seeing her shoulders relax, I decided to harvest her new comfort level.
    "He was a regular Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," I shared. Stella closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, she seemed far away, like her inner self had just departed on a short vacation.
    "It wasn't like that with us," she said quietly. "He was wonderful. Sterling broke up with me."
    "I'm sorry," I said