Gambling on a Secret Read Online Free PDF Page B

friends.”
    “I’d like that, too, Leon.”
    * * * *
    “Hello?” Charli called as she entered the reception area of Tracy’s Classic Chic Salon the following Monday morning.
    A tall, slender woman peeked around the archway of the adjoining room. “Oh, hi. I’ll be right there.
    “Hi. I’m Charli Monroe. I think I’m a little early for my appointment.”
    “Don’t worry about it. It’s good to finally meet you,” Tracy said with a smile.
    “Same here.” She and Tracy had spoken on the phone a few times regarding Dylan, but they hadn’t met until now. She stopped at the doorway into the salon parlor. An older woman sat in the chair patting her short blonde curls.
    Tracy moved toward the other customer, but said to her over her shoulder, “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be finished in a few minutes.”
    “My dear, you are an artist,” the patron drawled in a strong Texas accent when Tracy stood behind the styling chair.
    “Aw, Mrs. Cartwright,” Tracy said. “You say that every time.”
    Charli turned toward the floral couch in front of the double window, picked up a People Magazine, and began leafing through it. A few minutes later, the older woman and Tracy came out of the parlor.
    “Tracy, dear, I really wish you’d come to the next planning session for the Forest County Charity Ball,” Mrs. Cartwright said. “You have such wonderful taste.”
    “Thank you. I’ll consider your invitation.” Tracy punched the keys of an antique cash register to total the bill. “That’s twenty-five dollars.” She accepted the credit card and scanned it. “Isn’t it a little early to be planning for an event that doesn’t happen until July fourth?”
    “My goodness, no!” the older woman gushed, aghast. “We have to make sure everything is perfect. Please think about it.” She tucked her credit card into her Gucci handbag. “This year we’re hoping to do something special for all the veterans in town. Too bad your brother is having such a hard time. He’d be perfect to speak at one of the committee meetings.”
    Tracy looked puzzled. “Why Dylan?”
    “He was over there so many times and was part of the–oh, what are they called?” Mrs. Cartwright tapped her cheek with a long manicured fingernail a few times, then chirped, “The Green Berets. Zachery mentioned he’s still drinking heavily. Must be so terrible for you, honey.”
    When Tracy glanced over at Charli, she looked down at the magazine in her lap. Damn, Tracy hadn’t caught her eavesdropping, had she? She pretended to focus on the article about Brad Pitt.
    In a reserved tone, Tracy said, “Dylan’s getting better. It won’t be too long before he’ll be the man he was before his injuries and the divorce.”
    “He was such a good boy from what I remember of him when he’d visit with my son, Lance. And he did such a wonderful job helping you remodel this old house.”
    Dylan did this? She couldn’t help but look around the lobby of the salon. The Victorian house was beautiful. The rich decor of cream, gold, olive green and rose complemented the rich, red tones of the wood flooring. Moreover, the carved molding was gorgeous, polished to match the unique floor.
    Tracy’s evenly spoken words drew her back into the conversation. “Dylan and Lance are still good friends.” Tracy moved from behind the antique desk and spoke with obvious pride. “He’s always been a talented craftsman. I wouldn’t have been able to live here if he hadn’t helped me fix up this place.”
    “When Zachery came back from Afghanistan two years ago, he was changed, too. I suppose Lisa’s death and having to raise their little girl alone would change anyone, though.”
    Charli flipped the page of the magazine as Tracy glanced over at her again.
    Turning back to the older woman, Tracy asked, “How’s Zack doing? I only see him occasionally.”
    Was Tracy’s voice wistful? Must be a story there.
    Mrs. Cartwright sighed. “I think my dear nephew is