The Bluebonnet Betrayal Read Online Free PDF Page A

had sent her the link to his student page at Newcastle University, which touted all his many accomplishments, and Roddy had texted to ask if she knew anyone working at the
Daily Mail
. But it didn’t matter any longer, because she was about to hand off the entire kit and caboodle to Twyla.
    But there had been no sign of Roddy that morning, and after lunch, as it neared time for Pru to start her journey to Heathrow, she grew reluctant to leave. Chiv had gone into meditation mode about the wall again—it apparently took a great deal of study before he laid a stone—and only waved at her when she left.
    —
    Another clutch of people now emerged from arrivals—men, well dressed in matching sport coats with SUSSEX COUNTY CRICKET CLUB on their luggage. She sighed as the crowd petered out again. Unconsciously, she put her hand deep into her cavernous canvas bag, feeling around for her coin purse, the need for coffee overwhelming her sense of responsibility. While her hand was lost at the bottom, her phone rang.
    She couldn’t answer, not now. She must focus on arrivals, greet the women. She was itching to be rid of all responsibility for the garden. She had thought she would be merely a stand-in for the Austin women, but the few days she’d been at the garden, she’d had little support from Texas. Chiv had sent her off to a meeting with the assistant show director, Arthur Nottle, when Roddy didn’t show up; Forde seemed insistent on explaining to her something called molecular orbital theory; and she had learned that Iris abandoned whatever job she was doing to stand by her man if Pru and Chiv so much as said “good morning” to each other.
    Now that would change. But her phone continued to ring. No, she wouldn’t answer. Unless it was Christopher. Her hand wrapped round her phone and she looked at the screen.
    Roddy.
Crap.
All right, then—this would be the last time she’d have to listen to him—let Twyla look after him from now on.
    “Hello, Roddy.”
    “Listen, Pru, here’s the thing—I’ve a serious commitment to the Leicester council for a new landscaped public space near the common in that city and I’ll need to just jet up there for a day or two.”
    “What?”
Pru shouted, and a woman standing next to her flinched. Pru dropped her voice to a furious whisper. “You can’t leave me. You have responsibilities.”
    “I won’t be away long, and you’re doing such a fine job. Just keep it on the QT, will you?”
    “Roddy, what am I supposed to tell people?”
    “It won’t be a problem, Pru.”
    “You think Twyla will be your cover? I see now how much of a commitment this has been for you.”
    Pru heard him suck in a breath. “Oh God, I forgot. Right, I tell you what—I’ll be there first thing tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to miss her. Them. You’ll mention that, won’t you?”
    Pru rang off without answering. “I can’t believe he’s doing this,” she muttered, opening her bag and shoving the mobile phone to the bottom as if that would keep Roddy off her back.
    Behind her, she heard a voice call out, “Pru Parke, you get your butt over here and give me a hug.”
    Of course she recognized Ivory—she looked exactly as she had two decades earlier, apart from her hair, which had exploded in a halo of tight, frizzy black-and-gray curls that fell almost to her shoulders. Pru broke away from the waiting crowd and hugged her as several other women gathered, parking their wheeled suitcases that dangled with the detritus of a long journey—neck pillows tied to handles, half-empty water bottles stuffed into zippered compartments.
    “Welcome to England,” Pru said to the group.
    “Let me introduce you,” Ivory said. “You don’t know any of these women, but they sure do know you. I’ve been telling them all sorts of stories about you—I remember the time you dyed the water in all the fountains at the Dallas Arboretum green for St. Patrick’s Day. Okay now—here are KayAnn and Nell. They’re