Love of Her Lives Read Online Free PDF Page B

room? I’ll get a tray from the kitchen for your lunch and make you a pot of Earl Grey.” The fraction of doubt in Beth’s mind that she was doing the right thing vanished completely. Forty thousand dollars wasn’t enough money for a drug dealer to invest much effort to recover. No one would ever connect that money to Janine Miller. Poor girl. Twenty-five was definitely too young to be hiding from a dangerous husband. It was, however, a fine age to go back to school.
    Mrs. Miller’s bedrooms were down the hall from the kitchen. In less than thirty seconds, Beth had placed the tote bag with a note to Janine in the guest room closet where her clothes hung. The note was not signed, but made it clear the money was to better Janine’s life. She wouldn’t be able to pack her luggage without seeing it.
    Mrs. Miller lifted her arms up like a child when Beth put the tray on her lap. “Oh, this pasta looks lovely, Beth.” The fork remained on the tray. “This worry over Janine has frazzled me. A few days ago, I found my passport lying on the floor beside my desk instead of in the drawer where I always keep it. I don’t even remember touching it.”
    “You’ve got a lot on your mind, and you’re not the only one who forgets things, Mrs. Miller.”
    “That’s what I told myself. But I’ve misplaced an emerald necklace and bracelet that belonged to my grandmother. Just shoot me if it’s Alzheimer’s, Beth, promise me that.”
    “Okay, no problem. I’ll take care of it. Until then, eat!” Mrs. Miller smiled at that, and Beth suggested a doctor’s appointment wouldn’t hurt. With tea served and the money safely tucked away, Beth said goodbye and finished up the rest of her deliveries feeling like the world was a happier place.
    Her cognitive psychology class began in ninety minutes. Beth went to class like everyone else did that day, except for the professor who was noticeably absent. Her thoughts drifted to one blue–eyed professor she’d love to see in the halls, if she was looking for that kind of diversion, which she wasn’t she reminded herself.
    “Where’s Sutton?” she asked a guy she recognized from her class.
    “Sutton is sick,” he replied. “Didn’t you see the sign on the door? The class is cancelled.” He looked at her and grinned. A pillow mark creased his cheek. She took a step back and barely resisted pinching her nose. The guy hadn’t showered.
    “Nice,” he said, cheerfully. “I’m going back to bed.”
    Beth frowned as she watched him retreat. He probably had a ten–minute walk to his bed. She read the large notice on the door. How had she missed it?
    All that way to school for naught. At least she was in the right neighbourhood to pick up the lime leaves and shrimp paste for the coconut curry she’d decided to serve on Thursday.
    The drive home was traffic–free. With a grocery bag in each hand, Beth jostled her way into the kitchen. She stopped short halfway through the door. The muscles in her fingers turned to soup.
    “Oh, cripes.” The grocery bags slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor. She cringed at the sound of glass breaking, but a broken bottle of sesame oil was a mere drop in the typhoon that had whirled through her kitchen.
    The contents of every cupboard lay garbled on the floor — a broken mayonnaise jar, cereal flakes, rye bread, saucepans, dishes, even a frozen fish. Oh, no, Granny’s hand painted bowl. A cry of disbelief squeezed her throat when she caught sight of the family room.
    Knocked from the cabinet, the television laid screen–side down on the floor. Crystal wine glasses from Prague smashed. The antique hand painted fireplace screen from Paris thrown against the wall. One Rothenburg feather floated through a beam of sunlight. Where was the pillow? Only her birthday present from Matthew, a treasured model of a paddle steamer, had escaped destruction.
    Behind her, the sound of something ceramic–like crushed under a foot!
    Whoever had done