Cruel as the Grave Read Online Free PDF Page A

There were also plates of corn bread, homemade rolls, biscuits, and a boat of thick and creamy white gravy. Maggie, who disliked cooking almost as much as she disliked exercise, felt her taste buds stir in anticipation. She refused to think of the effect on her waistline of a steady diet of such fare. No wonder Helena jogged.
    After taking the platter of fried chicken around to everyone and seeing that they all had what they wanted to drink, Adrian seated himself in the vacant chair to Maggie’s left.
    Startled by his unexpected movement, Maggie, in the act of reaching for a fluffy, steaming biscuit, upset her water glass and sent liquid cascading all over Adrian’s plate. Mortified, she mopped ineffectually at the mess with her linen napkin, apologizing all the while, as her victim tried to mask his mingled irritation and amusement.
    “It’s quite all right,” he told her as he gently took the napkin from her hand. “They do allow me to eat with the family from time to time, and I did have my bath this morning.” He got up and found her a fresh napkin on the sideboard.
    Maggie blushed an even deeper red, by now beyond words, because the man had somehow picked up on a stray thought of hers. She risked a quick glance at his face as he took his seat once more and was reassured to see that he was looking friendlier than he sounded. Thankful that she didn’t seem to have offended him, she smiled an apology, which he accepted by an answering smile.
    The rest of the meal was agony for Maggie, made nervous by the presence of the very attractive man at her side. All she could think of was how clumsy she must have looked to him, pouring water all over him. She didn’t pause to analyze why she should worry about his perceptions of her. She concentrated instead on eating, handling her cutlery and glasses with great care. There was desultory conversation around her, all on neutral subjects, but she did not take part.
    From time to time as she ate, she looked over at Lavinia, who frowned back at her. Maggie felt too intimidated by the woman to attempt any conversation with her, even to demand an explanation for her rudeness. Lavinia did not seem in the least happy to have her and her father as guests.
    But, then again, Maggie wondered, were any of them, except Helena, really happy to have her and Gerard at The Magnolias again?
    “Well, Gerard,” Retty said in her sharp voice, as if she’d read Maggie’s thoughts, “I suppose Henry will be up to seeing you this afternoon, if you care to look in on him.” She patted her thin lips primly with her napkin, then took another sip of her tea as her mischievous eyes regarded her nephew.
    “If he feels up to it,” Gerard replied mildly, “I think both Maggie and I would like to see him. If a man on his deathbed is allowed two visitors at once.” His eyes roved across the table, coming to rest on Helena’s face, which had taken on a decidedly odd look.
    “So you thought he was dying?” Lavinia finally spoke. “Is that why you rushed back so quickly, bringing your daughter? So you could still find time to make it into the will?”
    Helena hissed in outrage, and even Retty seemed taken aback by such a frontal assault. Maggie wanted to throw something—preferably something hot—into Lavinia’s face, because the venom in her aunt’s voice was like acid thrown in her own.
    Gerard laughed. “Lavinia, you always were a first-class bitch. Frankly, if you had mellowed any over the past twenty-five years, I’d have been greatly disappointed.” He raised his glass to her. “Here’s to the woman who has elevated nastiness into a true art form.” He drank deeply from his iced tea.
    Appalled by this little exchange, Maggie waited for a further eruption. Lavinia coolly raised her own glass, drank from it, then set it down. She stood and dropped her napkin on her plate, pushed her chair aside, then left the room without saying another word.
    Maggie had no appetite left. Her hands