janet dailey- the healing touch Read Online Free PDF Page B

another cup of tea, dear?" Bridget took the cobalt blue china teapot from under its knitted cozy and offered it to Rebecca. "Why don't you finish this one off and I'll brew another."
    The offer was too tempting to resist. Bridget made the finest cup of tea in town—claimed it was a special County Kerry blend—and Rebecca had managed only three hours of sleep the night before. A little caffeine was exactly what she needed to get her over the midaf- temoon slump, and sipping tea here in Bridget's homey kitchen was a great way to infuse.
    Besides, Rebecca had never been able to deny Bridget anything. Something about those bright green eyes, the translucent skin and the open, friendly smile made her irresistible. Twenty years ago, when Rebecca first met her, Bridget had been young and beautiful. In spite of the passage of two decades, she was still youthful in spirit and more beautiful than ever.
    "Oh, okay," Rebecca said, twisting her own arm behind her back. "If I must, I must."
    Bridget placed a plate, which was covered with an ornate silver lid, in the middle of the table. With elegance and flourish, she swept the lid aside, revealing a dozen or so of her famous queen cakes. Rebecca re membered the first time she had ever eaten this particular delicacy. She had been ten years old, visiting the Flores girls, and Bridget had treated them all to a formal afternoon tea.
    Dressed in old-fashioned clothes garnered from the attic trunks, the six girls had glided into the dining room, nearly falling off their oversize high heels, tripping on the long hems, dripping with costume jewelry. On their heads they wore an assortment of wide- brimmed bonnets, sporting plumed feathers, silk flowers, satin ribbons and, in Rebecca's case, a rhinestone brooch.
    Apparently, Bridget was remembering too. She wiped her hands on her snowy apron, sat across the table from Rebecca and helped herself to the plate of goodies. "You girls always loved my queen cakes," she said. "You were so cute all decked out in those fine old clothes. I miss havin' you around."
    "But now you have Katie." Rebecca bit into the cake, which looked like a simple cupcake without frosting, but tasted divine. One bite and you could tell that Bridget didn't spare the butter, fresh eggs or cream. Rebecca tried not to think about the fact that she could almost hear her arteries hardening with every swallow.
    "Yes, I have little Katie, and a darlin' child she is, too," Bridget said, a smile softening the lines that had begun to develop around her eyes and mouth. "Have you ever seen eyes so blue...outside of ol' Ireland, that is?"
    "No, I haven't. Her eyes are a beautiful color, but I see a lot of sadness in them, too."
    Bridget nodded and took a sip of her tea. "Aye, 'tis true. She still grieves so for that dear mother of hers— may she rest in the arms of the angels," she added, crossing herself.
    "Did you know Mrs. Stafford?" Rebecca felt a bit guilty for trying to get information out of Bridget. If she wanted to know details, she should probably just ask Michael. But the few encounters she'd had with him had proved that they were neither one particularly good at communicating with the other.
    "No, I never laid eyes upon the departed lady," Bridget said, "but I'm sure she must have been a saint, considering the love her husband and daughter still have for her."
    "Yes, I'm sure." Rebecca felt a tiny stab of jealousy toward the woman for having been adored by such a wonderful child as Katie and a man like...
    No, that didn't bear thinking about. She pushed the thoughts aside, feeling horribly guilty for entertaining them even for a moment.
    "When does Katie get home from school?" Rebecca asked, glancing up at the cuckoo clock on the wall.
    "Any minute now. I'd say your timing was just about right," Bridget said with a knowing grin. "Unless you dropped by to see Mr. Michael. I don't expect to see him for hours yet."
    Blushing violently, Rebecca searched her mind for an appropriately