A Marriage Between Friends Read Online Free PDF

she’d left and he’d forgotten— forgotten —to ask her why she wasn’t going to support the casino. Frustration burned beneath his skin, and the pent-up energy demanded release.
    Vince fired up the Porsche, toying with the idea of gunning it down the driveway as if he were a broken-hearted teenager. Maturity won out only because the gravel would pepper his fenders. Instead, Vince backed out quickly and took off with just a bit more gas than was wise.
    The sky ignited with lightning, and thunder bellowed so close it shook the car.
    His headlights picked up a smoking pink housecoat.
    Vince slammed on the brakes. He’d almost taken out an old woman in curlers walking her poofy, volleyball-size, white dog. And indulging in a pipe.
    The thunder faded away.
    Vince’s heart started beating again. He turned off the engine, left the lights on and hopped out into the windy night. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”
    Silver curlers glinted in the car’s beams. The old woman drew the pipe slowly from her mouth. “I nearly peed my pants. Think Moonbeam piddled herself. How ’bout you?”
    Relief had him grinning. “Pretty damn close.”
    Moonbeam’s white hair stuck out like porcupine quills, but whether that was from fright or her natural state, Vince didn’t know.
    “Name’s Edda Mae. I buzzed you in the gate.” The woman drew on her pipe, sending wisps of smoke curling into the air. “Saw you speak in town. I had hopes for you, boy.”
    “The project is in the early stages. Don’t give up on me yet.”
    “Wasn’t talkin’ about your money.” Edda Mae gestured with her pipe to the glowing windows above the Edda Mae’s Dining Emporium sign.
    Vince glanced up at Jill’s place, allowing the woman to make assumptions. Jill had left Vegas and made something of herself while he’d flailed around without a clear purpose. A better man might not have felt jealousy. In any case, he’d get this casino off the ground despite Jill’s opposition, and then he’d finally feel as if he’d accomplished something.
    Fat drops fell in a faltering pattern around them.
    “Shouldn’t be out in this weather. You got a place to stay?” Edda Mae’s gaze was piercing.
    “No.”
    “You best park that thing over here. Don’t know why young bucks need to drive like they’re havin’ bad sex.” She turned toward a miniature house on the downhill side of the garage. “Fast, fast, fast. What a waste.”
    “Beg pardon?” He couldn’t have heard her right.
    “The rain’s come,” Edda Mae said, her eyes trained on the rocky ground as she walked away. “The road won’t be safe. You’ll have to stay here tonight. Best hurry before I change my mind, boy.” As Edda Mae climbed the steps to the narrow covered front porch, the rain arrived with a roar, sending Vince scrambling for cover.
    A few minutes later he sat on an antique brocade love seat with worn-out cushions and wood trim that creaked every time he breathed. The small cottage was crammed with an eclectic mix of possessions—Native American baskets and pottery, a short section of picket fence leaning against a wall, a 49ers calendar from two years ago—and smelled of tobacco. Moonbeam sat just out of reach and stared at Vince with dark, beady eyes.
    “Whiskey?” Edda Mae asked, seemingly unconcerned that she was entertaining in her pink chenille robe and curlers.
    “Beer?” he countered.
    “Coffee?”
    “Black. Let me help you.” Vince leaned forward to stand, but Moonbeam started yapping. Vince sat back again.
    “Moonbeam doesn’t like strangers in the house. Best stay where you are. Besides, Jill gave me one of those newfangled coffee machines last Christmas.”
    Vince slid to the end of the couch. The little beast pranced along with him, growling. Vince scowled at her. They were still having a face-off when Edda Mae came out with two mugs.
    She handed the steaming one to Vince and then parked herself in a big brown recliner. “You aren’t a dog