Free Best Kept Secrets by Sandra Brown Page B

camouflaged with competency.
    "White wine, huh? Can't stand the stuff myself. Just as well be drinking soda pop. But that's what my wife drinks.
    She'll be down directly. You sit there, Alexandra."
    "She likes to be called Alex, Dad," Junior said as he joined Angus at the built-in wet bar to mix himself a scotch and water.
    ' 'Alex, huh?'' Angus carried a glass of wine to her. ' 'Well, I guess that name suits a lady lawyer."
    It was a backhanded compliment, at best. She let her thank-you suffice for both the remark and the wine. "Why did you invite me here?"
    He seemed momentarily nonplussed by her directness, but answered in kind. "There's too much water under the bridge for us to be enemies. I want to get to know you better."
    "That's the reason I came, Mr. Minton."
    "Angus. Call me Angus." He took a moment to study her. "How come you wanted to be a lawyer?"
    "So I could investigate my mother's murder."
    The answer came to her lips spontaneously, which astonished not only the Mintons, but Alex herself. She had never verbalized that as being her goal before. Merle Graham must have spoon-fed her doses of determination, along with her vegetables.
    With that public admission also came the private realization that she was her own chief suspect. Grandmother Graham had said she was ultimately responsible for her mother's death. Unless she could prove otherwise, she would carry that guilt with her for the rest of her life. She was in Purcell County to exonerate herself.
    "You certainly don't mince words, young lady," Angus said. "I like that. Pussyfooting is a waste of my time."
    "Of mine, too," Alex said, remembering her concurrent deadlines.
    Angus harrumphed. "No husband? No kids?"
    "No."
    "Why not?"
    "Dad," Junior said, rolling his eyes, embarrassed by his father's lack of tact.
    Alex was amused, not offended. "I don't mind, Junior, really. It's a common question."
    "Got an answer to it?" Angus took a swig from his long-neck.

    "No time or inclination."
    Angus grunted noncommittally. "Around here, we've got too much time and not enough inclination." He shot Junior a withering glance.
    "Dad's referring to my failed marriages," Junior told their guest.
    "Marriages? How many have there been?"
    "Three," he confessed with a wince.
    "And no grandbabies to show for any of them," Angus grumbled like a foul-natured bear. He aimed a chastising index finger at his son. "And it's not like you don't know how to breed."
    "As usual, Angus, your manners in front of company are deplorable."
    Simultaneously, the three of them turned. A woman was standing in the open doorway. Alex had painted a mental picture of what Angus's wife would be like--strong, assertive, feisty enough to meet him toe to toe. She would typify the coarse, horsy type who rode to hounds and spent more time wielding a quirt than a hairbrush.
    Mrs. Minton was the antithesis of Alex's mental picture.

    Her figure was willowy, her features as dainty as those on a Dresden figurine. Graying blond hair curled softly about a face as pale as the double strand of pearls she was wearing around her neck. Dressed in a full-skirted mauve wool jersey dress that floated around her slender body as she walked, she came into the room and sat down in a chair near Alex's.
    "Honey, this is Alex Gaither," Angus said. If he was put off by his wife's reprimand, he didn't show it. "Alex, my wife, Sarah Jo."
    Sarah Jo Minton nodded and, in a voice as formal and cool as her acknowledgment of the introduction, said, "Miss Gaither, a pleasure, I'm sure."
    "Thank you."
    Her pallid face lit up and her straight, thin lips curved into a radiant smile when she accepted a glass of white wine from Junior, who had poured it without being asked. "Thank you, sweetheart."
    He bent down and kissed his mother's smooth, proffered cheek. "Did your headache go away?"
    "Not entirely, but my nap helped it. Thank you for inquiring.
    '' She reached up to stroke his cheek. Her hand, Alex noted, was milky white and looked as