Bike Week Blues Read Online Free PDF Page A

preferably one with Harley-Davidson on it. You
could have picked one up at the dealership or the Pub next
door.”
    Easy enough. Maybe Ruthie and I should go
after all. I’d run it by her at dinner.
    Bobby chatted for a few more minutes, then
left for lunch. I buried my nose in the books, determined to finish
early so I could do my shopping before Ruthie got home at three.
I’d entered the last number into the computer when Frannie May
arrived. “Go,” she insisted. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
    She didn’t have to offer twice. First, I
went to the Pub and picked up two black tee shirts for Ruthie and
me. Tight fitting, sexy jobs with a zipper down the front, I
chuckled at Ruthie’s anticipated reaction. She was a conservative
dresser, to say the least, and the shirt had to be a first for her.
Actually, it was a first for me, since I usually bought my clothes
from beach boutiques or Dillard’s Better Sportswear department.
    Shirts in hand, I drove back across the
North Causeway drawbridge to Flagler Avenue, the beachside
commercial district. Luckily, tourists were still on the beach or
taking a siesta, so I didn’t have to fight a crowd at The Wicker
Basket. With the proprietor’s help, I’d tried on four swimsuits,
made my decision, and was headed back to the condo by 2:50 p.m. Not
bad, even for a person who hated shopping, having acquired a bad
attitude about retailing from selling children’s shoes during
college.
    I took a left onto the unpaved, sand
driveway for Sea Dunes and rounded the corner to our oceanfront
unit. I expected to see Penny Sue’s yellow Mercedes. Instead, I
found the new, white Harley with her expensive leather jacket
hanging from the handlebar. I pulled into a space on the far side
of the bike and quickly gathered my packages. Something was wrong,
very wrong.

    * * *

Chapter 3

    The one and only time I could remember
seeing Penny Sue cry was when her mother passed away—that is, until
now. She sat on the loveseat in the living room, dressed in her
kimono, swigging wine. Her eyes were red and puffy with mascara
streaked down her cheeks. Half-hearted attempts to brush away the
tears had only succeeded in smearing her makeup. I dropped my
purse, package, and her jacket on a stool at the kitchen counter
and rushed to her side.
    “Are you all right, honey?” I asked, wedging
beside her on the loveseat and putting my arm around her shoulder.
“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” I held her at arm’s length to
check for blood and bruises.
    “No, no,” she said, sniffling. “Rich dumped
me.” She stared into the wineglass.
    “Dumped you?” I repeated stupidly, as if she
needed a reminder.
    Tears sprouted like a sprinkler system. “He
said things were going too fast, and we shouldn’t see each other
for a while.”
    He must have recognized the white leather
wedding ensemble! I’d worried about that, but Penny Sue was an all
or nothing type of person. She wouldn’t have listened if I’d voiced
my concern.
    “Hi, y’all. What a beautiful bike!” Ruthie
called as she emerged from the hall into the open expanse of the
living, dining, and kitchen area. “Are you going to take us for a—”
One look at Penny Sue, and Ruthie clamped her mouth shut.
    Penny Sue’s bottom lip quivered, and she
took a drink to cover it.
    Ruthie shoved her books onto the kitchen
counter. “What’s wrong?” She sank into the sofa beside the
loveseat.
    Penny Sue’s eyes brimmed. “Rich dumped me.
He doesn’t want to see me anymore.” She waved her empty glass and
headed for the refrigerator.
    Ruthie glanced my way, eyes pleading for an
answer. I shrugged.
    Penny Sue turned to face us, holding her
glass in one hand and a bottle of Chardonnay in the other. “Come
on, girls, I’ve got a bad case of the blues. Don’t make me drink
alone.” She poured some wine and raised the glass to her lips.
    “Wait,” Ruthie shouted. She dashed to the
counter, pulled a small vial from her purse and