On Lavender Lane Read Online Free PDF

violence. But for a fleeting moment, as Birdy, who was chauffering her back to the airport,pulled up to the departure curb, Madeline found the fantasy more than a little appealing.
    “You take care now,” Birdy said as she hugged Madeline good-bye. “And if that French husband of yours doesn’t do the appropriate amount of groveling, you can tell him you know a very big cop who owns a gun. And knows how to use it.”
    Although she hadn’t thought she’d ever find anything the least bit humorous about the situation Maxime had put her in, Madeline smiled, just a bit, at that. Again, the older woman reminded her of her grandmother Sofia, who’d managed to lighten her heart after her parents had died.
    And who’d also held her and dried her tears during the second-most-painful period in her life, after that lying, cheating Lucas Chaffee had broken her heart.
    As furious as she was at her husband, his betrayal caused memories of that fateful night with Lucas to flood into her mind in vivid, humiliating detail.
    What was wrong with her? Did she simply have miserable taste in men? Or did she send out secret signals, like the ultrahigh pitch of dog whistles, that only men incapable of being faithful could hear?
    The flight, which was just over two hours, seemed to take forever as her still-stunned mind struggled to make sense of a situation that had her feeling as if she’d suddenly fallen down a rabbit hole and ended up drinking Earl Grey with the Mad Hatter.
    At least when she was in the air, she was unreachable by phone or e-mail.
    Although she was tempted to take advantage of the free wine being poured in the first-class cabin, to numb her brain, Madeline wanted a clear head when she confronted Maxime, so she forced herself to stick to one Bloody Mary with her chilled black olive spaghetti salad. And managed not to pour the entire mini bottle of vodka into the mix.
    When the plane finally landed at La Guardia, she wasnot surprised to find her phone’s voice mail filled with messages.
    The first three were from Pepper McBain, her agent, assuring her that this unsavory publicity storm would blow over and it wouldn’t hurt her relationship with either her new sponsor or the Cooking Network.
    “After all,” the brisk, savvy woman who represented some of the biggest food stars in the business said, “you’re the injured party, darling. Everyone, from the network bigwigs to your audience, adores you. And, lucky us, not only are your shows on hiatus, but your contract’s up for renewal.”
    “Lucky,” Madeline murmured as she wheeled her carry-on up the jetway to the terminal. Apparently, Pepper had joined her down the rabbit hole and was now the one pouring the tea.
    There were, unsurprisingly, more calls from the producer of her television shows. “Don’t you worry about a thing, girlfriend,” Janine Miller said, her staccato tone sounding even more New York rapid-fire than usual. “That video will probably send ratings skyrocketing. After all, other celebrities have rocketed to fame after a sex tape hit the Internet.”
    Although she knew Janine was trying to be supportive, such comparisons did nothing to boost Madeline’s spirits.
    Finally, she got down to a call from her grandmother, which was the most depressing of all, because if a seventy-something woman could hear about Maxime’s video in a small, coastal town not known for being tuned in to celebrity gossip, it truly must have gone viral.
    “Darling,” Sofia said, “I’m so sorry about what happened and just wanted to remind you that if you do feel the need to get away, the farm will always be your home. I’m also starting a very exciting new venture I think you might just be interested in. Not that you don’t already have a great deal on your plate these days. But call me when you get an opportunity. Meanwhile, take care. I love you.”
    For the first time since her life had come crumbling around her feet in that department store, Madeline’s