Free LOWCOUNTRY BOOK CLUB by Susan M. Boyer

and inviting. And the menu offered what Nate, Sonny, or Blake would’ve called girl food.
    While I waited on the banquette side of a table in the corner, I opened the Voice Memo app on my iPhone, tapped the red button to record, then pressed the home button to return to the menu. I laid my phone on the table, the way I often did in restaurants to keep it handy. Jane would likely never notice the thin red bar at the top that said “Recording.” Typically I asked before recording a conversation. But in some cases, my instincts told me the subject might be skittish of such a thing. I would be asking Jane to talk candidly about her husband and her friends.
    A trim blonde dressed in white slacks and a yellow blouse with a colorful scarf walked through the door, searching the room with her eyes. I waved. She nodded and headed my way. Her hair flipped up at the shoulder, a few bangs scattered across her forehead. She touched her pearls as she approached the table.
    â€œ Jane?” I asked.
    â€œ Yes. You must be Liz. So nice to meet you.” Her voice identified her as a card-carrying sweet Southern lady.
    â€œ Nice to meet you,” I said. “ Thank you so much for coming on such short notice.”
    â€œ I hope you’ll forgive me for not having you to my home.” She slid into the chair across from me.
    I was thinking how she’d wanted the option to end the conversation whenever she pleased without the stress of having to invent a sufficient excuse to get me out of her house or risk being impolite by asking me to leave.
    Her voice dropped to a near whisper. Her hazel eyes shimmered. “ It’s just that…I’ve done this several times now. The police, Clint’s attorney, his investigator—the first one. And now you. I would do anything I could to help Shelby. To help Clint. But I really don’t know anything helpful. And this brings it all back.”
    â€œ I am so sorry for asking you to do this. But I need to get up to speed fast. They’ll start picking a jury in two weeks.”
    Jane pressed both sets of fingers to her lips, closed her eyes, and nodded.
    â€œYou said you wanted to help Clint. So you don’t believe he killed Shelby?” I asked.
    â€œOh good Heavens, no. Such a thing is simply not possible. I worry about him, you know? He positively cherished her.”
    â€œBut not to the point of obsession?”
    â€œWas it healthy for him, how much his life revolved around hers? I wouldn’t presume to pass judgement on that. But I know this much. He’d sooner rip his heart out with his bare hands than hurt her. And you should know this . Shelby was like a sister to me. If I thought there was a remote possibility he’d done this, I’d pull the switch to fry him myself.”
    The waitress stopped by to see if we were ready to order.
    â€œ I know what I want,” I said. “ Do you?”
    â€œ Yes. ” Jane turned to the waitress. “ I’d like The Park Lettuces with chicken and an avocado toast. Unsweetened tea, please.”
    I smiled. “ I’ll have the same, but I’d also like the field pea hummus. Want to share?”
    Jane smiled back. “ I just love that stuff.”
    The waitress collected our menus and slipped away.
    I pulled the Purell out of my purse, pumped a generous pool into my left hand, set the sanitizer on the table, and rubbed my hands together, making sure to get my forearms. I looked up to see Jane watching me. “Would you like some?”
    â€œNo thank you,” she said. “I just washed my hands.”
    I resisted the urge to tell her how many people had handled the menus, and changed the subject. “ I had to give up sweet tea when I turned thirty.” There may have been longing in my voice.
    Jane gave a little moan of despair. “ Me too. The calories. Just wait ’til you turn forty.”
    â€œ You can’t possibly be forty.” Of course I