Embroidered Truths Read Online Free PDF Page A

mostly white, with tan and gray patches on her head and back. Her enormous fluffy tail was a mix of tan and gray, currently twitching erratically. Sophie had been on a diet since Betsy inherited her at an obese twenty-two pounds. And despite Betsy’s best efforts, her cat’s current weight was twenty-three pounds. She was a beautiful cat nevertheless, lazy but sweet, whose one exercise was asking everyone she met if they had something for her to eat.
    Her reaction to Godwin’s occupation of the guest bedroom was thus an anxious look at the door, followed by her special breakfast cry. “A-rew?” she asked. “A-rew?” Betsy laughed and pulled her in for a snuggle. Sophie obediently began to purr, but she continued to look toward the door at intervals.
    When Betsy finally got out of bed and reached for her robe, Sophie tried to lead her to the kitchen.
    “First things first,” said Betsy, heading for the bathroom.
    But soon Sophie was crouched over her morning serving of Science Diet dry cat food, the one formulated for fat, old, lazy cats—though they didn’t put it that baldly on the label—while Betsy made herself a cup of English Breakfast tea.
    Normally, she drank her tea while checking her e-mail and reading her RCTN and INRG newsgroups—but her computer lived in the guest bedroom, and there’d been no sign that Godwin was up and about. She didn’t want to wake him, poor thing. They’d stayed up late last night, and while he’d gone to bed first, she was sure she’d heard him crying in the guest room just as she was falling asleep.
    She wished he weren’t so fastened on John. In Betsy’s opinion, it was an unhealthy relationship, with all the power on John’s side. Well, most of it. When Betsy had promoted Godwin to store manager—Godwin preferred to call himself Vice President in Charge of Operations and Editor in Chief of Hasta la Stitches, the shop’s newsletter—she had nearly doubled his salary and offered him the same benefits program she had for herself. It wasn’t nearly enough to make him John’s fiscal equal, but it made Godwin less of a total dependent. Godwin had been thrilled, and later said it made John treat him with more respect.
    Her smile had a hint of triumph in it as she went to put her empty cup in the sink. She decided oatmeal would be breakfast this morning. It could sit on the stove until Godwin was ready for it.
    She went to the cabinet where she kept her pots and selected one the right size that was heavy enough to simmer without burning.
    Her smile faded as she considered whether it had been a good idea to take a bite out of John by promoting Godwin. John was the type of gay man who liked his boyfriends immature. He had a record of taking in young men for a year or two, and then turning them out when they became too sophisticated. While Godwin had been very naïve at nineteen, that was no longer true—and an even more mature Godwin had emerged under the burden of more responsibility.
    It was interesting, Betsy reflected, that John hadn’t discarded Godwin. Perhaps John had done some growing in the past few years, too. Or maybe it was that Godwin remained incurably silly and fun even as he became more hardworking and reliable.
    She half-filled the pot with water, added salt, and put it on a burner to heat.
    Not that Godwin hadn’t occupied the position of store manager practically from the start. Betsy had inherited the shop when her sister died, and, having no experience in owning her own business and little knowledge of needlework, had quickly come to rely heavily on the young man to guide her through the learning process. His promotion had been only recognition of a status he had from the start. Still, now he was making more of the decisions about employees and sales, had begun publishing a shop newsletter, and was building a Crewel World website.
    The pot began to steam. She went to a different cabinet and got out the round canister of oatmeal, the old-fashioned