No Way to Kill a Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

imagine your sister Libby helps by lounging on my cushions, pretending she’s the Sultana of Arabia. She’s like her papa. He’s already drinking my liquor this morning. At least he knows how to perk up a room with conversation, I’ll give him that.” She peeked into the bucket and raised her eyebrows. “What did you bring me those pieces for? Did you expect me to paste my sugar bowl back together?”
    â€œN-­no. I just—­I needed to tell you it was my fault.”
    Did her face soften? “Be careful, young lady, or you’ll turn into a dreary sort of child. Do you tattle on your friends? Whine for attention?”
    A little flame of pride burned brighter inside me. The worst crime of all, it seemed to me, was whining. I said, “I believe in doing the right thing.”
    Aunt Madeleine laughed at that. “Well, you didn’t learn that kind of behavior from your parents. Not a reliable synapse between them. I don’t suppose they even keep their own checkbook, do they?”
    I had seen my father frequently dashing off checks, so I said, “They do so.”
    Aunt Madeleine capped her pen and firmly closed the ledger on her desk. “They have no more sense than hummingbirds, either of them.”
    â€œThey’re very happy,” I said in defense of my parents. And although I already sensed our place in the world was slipping, I loved that we laughed every day in our household.
    Aunt Madeleine said, “As long as they’re happy, you’re happy, is that it?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou take everybody’s happiness as your responsibility?”
    â€œI—­I don’t know what that means.”
    Aunt Madeleine gave me a piercing look that made me want to step back from her desk and slip away. But she said, “It means you don’t have to be a good little girl every minute of the day. You have choices, you know. You can break the rules once in a while without the world coming to an end.” She eyed me. Perhaps with a shade less distaste than before. “Find yourself a talent, little miss. Make it your focus. Draw power from it. In the long run, that will make the tough decisions a little easier. Take it from me.”
    I couldn’t quite muddle through all that, but it didn’t matter. Suddenly she said, “If you want to make me happy, young lady—­you can do the right thing after I’m gone.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œYou’ll destroy this book for me.” She tapped her beautiful fingernails on the black ledger on her desk. “Burn it.”
    I thought she was testing me. I said, “It’s wrong to burn books.”
    â€œNot this one.” She reached and seized my wrist, hard. “A woman like me should keep her business to herself so nobody goes around blowing things out of proportion later. Will you do it? Burn this when I’m gone? Promise?”
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œWhen I die,” she corrected sharply. “You’re the one I can trust, aren’t you?”
    Her talk of dying frightened me. But I understood that she wanted me to stiffen my spine, to be strong. Draw power, she had said.
    â€œOkay,” I said, squaring my shoulders.
    Now, years later, the encounter swept over me like an ocean wave and left me feeling beached. Like a bottle with a message inside. Except I couldn’t read the message clearly.
    I caught my balance on the doorjamb. Maybe I still needed to hear her words. My own life had gone haywire lately. Lexie’s legal troubles had ended with her turning away from me—­from her whole life, perhaps. When she pleaded guilty and the bailiff escorted her out of the courtroom, I hadn’t expected her to be whisked away so suddenly. Her stiff neck tore my heart. There were places I couldn’t go with her. I’d written daily letters to her, but had received no reply.
    Remembering Madeleine’s words