Free The Girl Next Door (Crimson Romance) by Peggy Gaddis Page A

hundred and fifty thousand dollar trust fund for Peter, and Mrs. Marshall is adequately provided for. I
’
d say that Marcia Eldon would be mighty glad to get her hands on the Marshall money — wouldn’t you? And Pete, even if he is blind, is not unattractive. He’s really sweet Gilded with two hundred and fifty thousand, I’d say he would be pretty easy to take.”
    For the moment Molly couldn’t think of anything to say. Secretly she was relieved at the thought that Marcia couldn’t possibly have any designs on Bobbie, because the Priors were not wealthy and Bobbie was dependent on his modest salary for a living. It would be two or three years before he could think of getting married… .
    Meanwhile, Edith had picked up the telephone and given the number of the house next door, across the lawn and through the unclipped hedge. She waited, and then a man’s voice said, “Hello?”
    It was Peter’s voice, and Edith recognized it instantly. She felt a vague sinking of her heart, but she answered him promptly.
    “Hello, Peter. Is Mrs. Eldon there? This is Edith Drummond.”
    “Oh, how are you, Mrs. Drummond? Just a minute and I’ll call Marcia.”
    She heard Peter go away from the telephone, and, after a moment, footsteps coming closer, then a burst of smothered laughter.
    “Hello, Mrs. Drummond.” Marcia’s voice was light with laughter — laughter accompanied by Peter’s over some trivial incident, perhaps, that had been amusing only because they had shared it.
    “I didn’t know you had company, Mrs. Eldon,” said Edith, and could not keep her voice from sounding formal. “Mrs. Prior and Mrs. Hutchens are here, and we thought you might like to take a hand at bridge.”
    “That was sweet of you to think of me, Mrs. Drummond,” said Marcia politely. “But I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to give me a rain-check. There are some people here.”
    “Yes, of course — some other time, then.”
    After she had put the telephone down, Edith stood for a moment, just staring at it, thinking. Peter had seemed so completely at home. He had answered the telephone; he had shared laughter with Marcia, and the telephone had given no indication of other voices. Yet Marcia had said, “Some people are here.” Edith knew instinctively that there was no one there but Peter, and tried to deny the little stab of pain at her heart. Pain for Betsy, who might be terribly hurt. Betsy was so completely in love with Peter.
    She tried to laugh at herself, to scold herself. She had not been happy about Betsy’s love for Peter; from the first, knowing Peter, she had not believed that he returned her love, and Betsy would inevitably be hurt. But now that Peter was obviously in love with Marcia …
    She made herself go back to the two women who were waiting in the garden, carrying three bottles of Coca-cola and three glasses and a plate of cookies on a tray, as an excuse for her long absence.
    “Is she coming over?” asked Anne, reaching for a cookie.
    “No, she’s got guests,” answered Edith.
    “Oh,” said Anne, regarding the depths of her glass with elaborate interest “So she has guests? Am I surprised! And of course, Peter Marshall is one of them.”
    “I believe so,” said Edith curtly.
    Molly glanced at Anne, but refrained from making any comment
    The rest of the afternoon moved with a jerkiness that was completely foreign to the three friends, and Edith was secretly relieved when Anne decided it was time to leave. She walked with them to the gate, and stood there in the warm sunlight, watching them until Molly’s car turned from sight.
    She didn’t know quite how long she stood there, but at last she heard footsteps coming toward her, and looked up. A tall young man in slacks and a shirt with an open collar, the sleeves turned back to his elbows, came toward her. Beside him paced a beautiful dog. It was, of course, Peter Marshall and the dog, Gus.
    “Hello, Peter.” Edith made her voice sound warm and