Free The Sound of a Scream by John Manning Page A

coffee, and enjoying the best homemade raspberry croissants she’d ever tasted, Daphne finally found herself laughing—for the first time since her arrival in Point Woebegone. Ashlee was a good storyteller. The tale of how she’d met Pete Witherspoon—she’d been his waitress at a restaurant when he was in Florida on business—was a doozy, and Daphne couldn’t help but laugh out loud as she told it.
    “Well, my boss had told me Pete was a ‘vic,’ ” Ashlee was saying. “A very important customer. I was rushing around, trying to make sure he and his party had everything they needed. I was told to make sure Mr. Witherspoon was treated like a king. Well, I found out he was certainly very regal—and by that I mean demanding—when he gave me his order.” Here her voice deepened into a delicious impersonation of her gravel-voiced husband. “ ‘Now, make sure the meat is done only slightly medium rare, not medium rare, mind you, young lady, or heaven forbid just plain rare. There is a very fine middle ground, where there is no more than one-quarter of an inch pinkness. Do you understand? Just slightly medium rare.’ ”
    Ashlee stood up, demonstrating with a tray of croissants the way she had brought Pete his plate of slightly medium-rare beef. “So I come along, after our chef had spent such care making sure the order was prepared just right, and Pete is sitting there with those damn long legs of his sprawled out into the aisle. And I come by just like this—” She pretended to bump into Daphne’s feet. “And boom! I trip over those long legs and go sprawling right down, flat on my face!”
    Daphne laughed. “And his steak?”
    “It went skidding across the floor!”
    “Oh no!”
    “But here’s the best part.” Ashlee seemed unable to contain a rush of laughter for a moment. “I actually went chasing after the steak, picked up in my fingers, brought it back to the table, and showed it to Pete. ‘But look, sir,’ I told him, ‘it really was exactly one-quarter-inch pink!’ ”
    “You didn’t!” Daphne laughed.
    “I did.” Ashlee sat back down at the table. “Of course, my manager came out and fired me right on the spot. Pete very gallantly insisted I be reinstated, and then asked me my name. The next day he called for me at the restaurant and asked if he could take me out to dinner to make up for his ungainly feet. Of course I agreed.” She smiled dreamily over at Daphne. “And the rest, as they say, is history.”
    “It’s a wonderfully romantic story in its own way,” Daphne said.
    “I’m glad you think so,” Ashlee replied, taking a sip of her coffee. “Not everyone in the family agrees.”
    Daphne had seen the disapproval of Ashlee last night in the eyes of some of them. But she feigned ignorance. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.
    “You might as well know the family dynamics, since you’re going to live here.” She buttered a croissant and took a bite. “Pete controls the family fortune, so his sisters and his nephews are all constantly watching out for themselves around him, not wanting to get cut out of the will. Of course, the bulk goes to Christopher.” Her eyes danced a moment as they looked over at Daphne. “And any offspring that Pete and I might have, of course. Which is why they don’t like me much. They thought Pete was through making babies. And then he gets married again.”
    “Are you ... ?” Daphne asked.
    “Not yet.” Ashlee giggled. “But just because he’s seventy years old doesn’t mean you can count Pete out quite yet in that department.”
    “In what department?”
    Ashlee hooted, taking Daphne’s question as a joke. “But I’ll give you one bit of advice. Watch out for Abigail. She’s the worst. A miserable old spinster. Probably never had any in her entire life.”
    “Had any what?” Daphne asked.
    Ashlee looked at her as if she thought Daphne might be joking again. Then she realized the new governess really didn’t understand