Kimberly Stuart Read Online Free PDF Page B

upon miles. No, wait: as the plane dropped in altitude I could make out small piles of hardened snow, which, though technically gray, I, in my magnanimity, chalked up as white. Gray and white and Sadie Maddox. One of these things was sure to kill the others.
    I resisted the urge to cling to Beverly when the plane landed. We disembarked single file.
    â€œHave a good one,” Beverly said. She stood in the service area near the cockpit, arms crossed over an ample, cardigan-ed bosom.
    â€œThank you,” I said, my voice sounding much like a boy soprano’s. I tried again, volume and false confidence up a notch. “You have a good day too, Beverly.”
    She sniffed. “I will as soon as we’re back up in the air and headed home.”
    Home , I thought. As I climbed through the chilly gate and walked toward baggage claim, home felt very far away.

    The fifteen or so passengers from Heartland Air Flight 2301 stood milling around the single baggage carrel. Maplewood Regional Airport was more of a glorified garage. On my way to baggage claim, I’d passed one other gate, a set of restrooms, and a small nook where one could choose from a startling selection of beef jerky. No one had stepped forward from the small crowd of people waiting to welcome passengers so I stood alone looking for my bags. The air in the airport/garage was rather chilly and I was glad I’d worn my mink.
    I fished my phone out of a new Gucci, a departure gift to myself, and waited for Richard to answer.
    â€œSadie?”
    â€œHello, Richard. I just wanted you to know I made it okay.” I lowered myself into a chair.
    â€œAnd how’s Green Acres looking these days?”
    â€œSparse. Gray.” I glanced at the faces in the luggage crowd and lowered my voice. “They’re staring at me.”
    â€œProbably fascinated by the wild animal from New York. What are you wearing?”
    â€œChoo boots, Saint Laurent black trousers, my mink, Dolce sunglasses.”
    Richard sounded like he was choking. “Good Lord, Sadie. You might as well be wearing a hijab .”
    I sighed. “Richard, what have I done?”
    â€œSo the John the Baptist incident at your church is finally losing some of its afterglow.”
    I’d cited the “O Holy Night” moment of clarity when I’d told Richard of my decision to take the job at Moravia. I had failed to mention the added incentive of a dwindling balance in my savings account. Avi had droned on mercilessly about my failure to plan for my retirement, my need to be stowing more away for the proverbial winter of the body. I admitted I’d been a horrible squirrel. Saving, in my opinion, had never been as much fun as acquiring . Nevertheless, when it came to choosing between curbing my spending and taking a semester’s leave to the cornfields, I’m afraid I just didn’t have the strength for that kind of self-denial. And so the reluctant relocation.
    I felt the sting of tears and kept my sunglasses right where they were. “Thank you, Richard, for your encouragement. You’ve always known just the right thing to say.”
    Richard cleared his throat, which I knew was his attempt to take me seriously. “Sadie, love, listen. You’re having an adventure, that’s what. You’re going to see an area of the country that is, though completely neglected by civilized people, a point of much anthropological interest. Think of it as a humanitarian effort. Think Mother Teresa.”
    â€œSo I’ve landed in Calcutta.”
    â€œNo, no, of course not.” Richard paused. “That would mean you could get good ethnic food.” He cackled at his own joke.
    I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses. “You are not helping.”
    â€œYou’ll be fine,” Richard said, trying very hard to sound persuasive. “You’ll mold young minds, educe great music out of what appears to be a lost cause, and be back in New York