Blue-Eyed Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

So I clutched a handful of tools and ran to Dad, who was just coming into the family room. “Look what Aunt Gretchen brung me!”

    “Well, isn’t that nice,” Dad had said, smiling first at Gretchen, then at my mother. The smile had ossified as he saw her face.

    “Gretchen,” Mother had said crisply, “I’d like to be asked the next time you buy a gift for my daughter. I’m not planning on raising a construction worker.”

    My heels had stopped bouncing. “I’m not giving ‘em back.”

    ” Don’t sass your mother,” Dad said.

    “Land’s sake,” Gretchen had exclaimed. “They’re toys, Ava. Haven likes to make things. Nothing wrong with that.”

    Mother’s voice had been full of prickly burrs. “I’m the one to decide what’s best for my own daughter, Gretchen. If you know so much about children, you should’ve had one of your own.” She had stalked from the room, past me and Dad, leaving a chill of silence in her wake.

    Gretchen had sighed, shaking her head as she looked at Dad. “Can I keep the tool kit?” I had asked.

    Dad had thrown me an exasperated glance and gone after Mother.

    I had gone to Gretchen slowly, my hands clenched tight in front of me. She was quiet, but I knew what I had to do. I unstrapped the tool belt and laid it carefully back into the box. “I guess you should have gotten me a tea set,” I said glumly. “Take it back, Aunt Gretchen. She’d never let me play with it anyway.”

    Gretchen had patted her knee, and I crawled into her lap, snuggling into the scents of powder and hair spray and Rive Gauche perfume. Seeing how intrigued I was by her charm bracelet, she took it off and let me look at it. She’d bought herself a charm every time she went to a new place. I found a tiny EiffelTower, a pineapple from Hawaii, a Memphis bale of cotton, a matador with a little swirling cape, crossed snow skis from New Hampshire, and too many others to name.

    “Someday,” Gretchen had said, “I’m going to give this bracelet to you. And you can add your own charms.”

    “Will I go as many places as you, Aunt Gretchen?”

    “You may not want to. People like me only travel because they don’t have enough reasons to stay put.”

    “When I’m big,” I’d said, “I’ll never stay put.”

    Gretchen had forgotten that promise, I thought. It wasn’t her fault. She’d forgotten a lot of things lately. It’s okay, I told myself. Let it go. But I knew the story behind every charm. And it seemed as if Gretchen were taking those handfuls of memories away from me and bestowing them on Liberty. Somehow I forced a smile and held it.

    My aunt made a show of fastening the bracelet on Liberty’s wrist. Carrington danced around the two of them with excitement, demanding to see the charms. My smile didn’t feel like it was part of my face. It hung there like a picture on a wall, suspended by tacks and wires.

    “I think I’m supposed to be doing something with this,” I said lightly, picking the veil up from the bed, draping it over my arm. “I’m a lousy maid of honor, Liberty. You should fire me.”

    She threw me a quick glance. Despite my cheerful mask, she saw something that caused her to look troubled.

    When we all left the room, Carrington and Gretchen went first and Liberty stopped me with a light touch on my arm. “Haven,” she whispered, the bracelet jingling, “were you supposed to have this someday?”

    “Oh, no, no,” I said at once. “I’m not a fan of charm bracelets. They catch on things.”

    We walked downstairs, while Gretchen and Carrington waited for the elevator.

    As we got to the bottom step, someone approached in a long, relaxed stride. I looked up and saw a pair of startling blue eyes. A thrill of alarm ran through me as he stopped beside the newel post and leaned against it comfortably. My face turned aspirin-white. It was him, the guy from the wine cellar, Mr. Blue-Collar-in-a-Tux, big and sexy and as cocky as a junkyard dog. He gave