Free Better Read Than Dead by Victoria Laurie Page A

sensation in the middle of my chest. The past two days had taken all the fight out of me. “Whatever,” I said moodily, and walked in behind him.
    Dave caught my inflection and paused to look at me critically before gathering up the next load of wood littering my living room. “You okay?”
    I lowered my gaze and bent low to greet an anxious Eggy, then scooped him up and quickly turned toward the stairs, not wanting Dave to make a closer inspection of my tearstained face. “Nothing that a bubble bath and cup of hot soup won’t cure. I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” I said, and with that I bolted to my bedroom. I headed straight to my bed and fell backward, Lipton-tea style, holding on to Eggy as he kissed away my tears. Finally, when I’d regained a little composure, I left the pooch‘ on the bed and walked into the bathroom to inspect my reflection.
    Hollywood is filled with starlets who look even more attractive when they’re bawling their eyes out. I don’t know how they do it, because when I cry my nose gets red and runny, my eyes swell up and my cheeks get puffy. In other words, I look like I’ve gone a few rounds with Evander Holyfield—hardly glamorous. Sighing, I turned on the faucet and swept cool water over my face until my makeup was good and runny, then reached for the soap and cleaned off the rest. Next I wound my hair up into a high ponytail, pinning it to the top of my head as I ran a bath.
    While the tub filled with hot water I trundled back downstairs and fixed an instant cup of soup, and a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich. Toting these back upstairs, I set them on the side of the tub and, after disrobing, got in. For a few minutes I just let the warmth of the water soothe me like a down comforter.
    Finally I reached for my soup, sipping at it and eating my sandwich without pause, noticing for the first time since my meltdown that I was famished. After polishing off my late lunch I sank back down into the warmth of the tub until I was pruny, then got out and wrapped myself in my flannel robe.
    Making my way back to my bedroom, I noticed it was getting close to five, and I hurried my pace a little. I had to meet Kendal at six. After looking through a few choices in my closet for suitable wedding-guest attire, I selected a charcoal cocktail dress, black heels, and a pearl necklace with matching earrings. Next, I went back to the bathroom and wound my hair up in a French twist, securing it with several dozen bobby pins, then brushed my cheeks with blush, my lashes with mascara, and my lips with burgundy lipstick.
    When I was finished I perused my reflection in the mirror. Satisfied that I could pass for an attendee at a funeral, wedding, or breakfast at Tiffany’s, I left the bathroom and headed for the stairs.
    Once I got to the living room I noticed that Dave had long since gone home, and had kindly fed Eggy before leaving. I went back into the kitchen, got down a huge wooden bowl from my cabinet and filled it to overflowing with Halloween candy. I really hoped that the kids in my neighborhood would be conscientious enough to take only a handful of Snickers bars and move on—but most likely the bowl would be empty after the third trick-or-treater.
    I let Eggy out one last time, then grabbed my coat, purse and keys, flipped on the porch light put the wooden bowl in the center of my welcome mat and with a deep sigh headed toward my car.
    Kendal lives just a few minutes away from me, a little closer to the neighboring town of Ferndale. His clientele is mostly based in the distant town of Mount Clemens, where he grew up, but recently he and his partner, Rick, had purchased an adorable Tudor just a few miles from me. When I pulled into his driveway I noticed he was already coming out of his house to greet me.
    I’ve known Kendal for years; he was something of a mentor to me when I first got started in the business. He’s a gorgeous man, tall, with broad shoulders, wavy brown hair and deep-set