Claire and Present Danger Read Online Free PDF Page B

wearing jeans and a plaid shirt sat in a wing chair near the French windows. He looked pleasantly worn out and faded, like much-used leather, but that could have been the light. Across from him, in a matching chair, a woman, shiny dark hair framing her face, smiled at me. She was more elegantly turned out than the man, dressed in a long-sleeved blouse with ruffled lace cuffs and collar, close-fitting black slacks, and soft boots, giving her the appearance of a nineteenth-century poet. I wondered if the two people had arrived together, as they looked as if they’d set out for separate destinations.
    Only then did I notice the older woman in a chair turned away from me, toward the windows and the couple. She leaned sideways, nodding and smiling a welcome. I walked over and shook her hand.
    Claire Fairchild was a delicately made white-haired woman in an ethereal blue dress that looked knitted of fibers so fine, they might sigh and melt away. Her earrings matched a long strand of pearls, and both echoed the tones of her hair, and she wore dainty, im-practical blue shoes meant for a night on the town, dancing.
    She seemed a suitable accessory for her environment’s gracious elegance. The only discordant note in the entire room was the portable oxygen tank that stood at the ready next to her chair.
    “Forgive me for not getting up,” she said. “I save my air for talk.
    Hot day like this—tried to go outside . . .” She shook her head slowly side to side. “Delighted to . . .” She paused, deciding, too obviously, how to address and present me. “. . . see you again, Miss Pepper,” she finally said. “I’d like you to meet my son, Leo.”
    The fair-haired man half-rose and put out his hand, which I shook. “Pleasure,” he said rapidly, ducking his head in a shy bow.
    A man apparently not overly comfortable in social situations.
    “And I’m Emmie,” the girl dressed like a Romantic poet said.
    “Glad to meet you. I’m Leo’s fiancée.” She didn’t seem to mind that no one had remembered to introduce her.
    I shook her hand. “I’m Amanda,” I said. “Glad to meet you.”
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    CLAIRE AND PRESENT DANGER
    Her smile was so all-encompassing and warm, it felt like a hug of greeting.
    “Sit,” the housekeeper said, not unpleasantly, pointing at a love seat across from Mrs. Fairchild, who, in turn, gestured at the table between us, which had a French press filled with coffee. “You can go now, Batya.”
    The housekeeper waddled out. Claire Fairchild redirected her attention to me. Her movements were slow, and she spoke with deliberation, possibly weighing how much breath any given word required. “Coffee?” she asked, and I nodded and watched her pour.
    She passed me the cup. “My son and Emma—”
    “Emmie,” the young woman said softly.
    “Emmie, then, came to tell me they’ve set a wedding date.”
    “Congratulations.” I glanced again at the poet with the radiant smile, she who I was supposed to investigate. Poor baby. “I wish you all the best.”
    Silence followed. We all knew what was missing: an explanation for who I was and why I was there.
    “Miss Pepper,” Claire Fairchild said, “is my reader.”
    “Your what?” Her son’s eyebrows and general level of interest both rose.
    “Reader. You know how tired I can get. She suggested reading to me, so I could close my eyes and—”
    Bad choice, I thought. Bad, bad choice. Hadn’t she heard of books on tape? And why would she have hired a reader this afternoon when she didn’t seem tired and was handling the coffee service without stress. She could hold a book if she could fill my coffee cup.
    Nevertheless, I nodded and smiled agreement. Her son and future daughter-in-law returned my smile with visible reservations, and I didn’t blame them.
    “We met in the Square.” Claire Fairchild gazed proudly at me as if I were a precocious child or a puppy she’d discovered.
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    GILLIAN ROBERTS
    “Have you two done this before?” Leo asked