The Confidence Woman Read Online Free PDF Page A

another level she hated them.
    She sank into an armchair with The Confidence-Man on her lap. It wasn’t one of her favorite Melville books. She bought it years ago because signed editions were rare, and she knew it to be a good value. Over the years it had been appreciating on her shelves. If she was going to actually read Melville, she preferred Billy Budd, Sailor and Bartleby the Scrivener. The Confidence-Man was too metaphysical to be popular and it turned out to be the last book Melville published in his lifetime. Billy Budd was published posthumously. Eventually Melville went to work in the customs house and all of his books were out of print when he died. Recognition and success came after his death, a story that could give a writer nightmares.
    Claire glanced at the book, which had fallen open to an introduction by a critic named Jeffrey Omer that was full of pompous phrases. At first glance the phrases appeared to be loaded with meaning, but on closer examination they turned out to be critical double-talk that resembled Ginny’s artbabble. She saw Omer as another con artist creating a smokescreen with empty phrases.
    It made Claire long for simplicity, clarity and sleep. She knew she would have bad dreams if she went to bed with that book on her shelf and the feeling that her bedroom was full of tricksters. She took it down the hall and left it in her office.
    It was customary in New Mexico to burn a smudge stick made of dried sage to drive bad thoughts from a house. Claire lit one and walked through the house, inhaling the fragrant smell. She left the sage burning in a dish in the bedroom while she fed Nemesis and prepared dinner for herself. When it was time to go to bed, the bedroom was thick with smoke. Claire opened the windows to clear the room. Eventually she fell asleep and dreamed she saw a ghostly figure in a turquoise dress pulling books from her shelves then throwing them to the floor in an angry fit. She woke up knowing it would take more than smudge sticks to rid herself of the nightmare of Evelyn Martin.
    ******
    In the morning she learned of another death when her daughter, Robin, called to tell her “Nana died.”
    Nana was Claire’s former mother-in-law and Robin’s grandmother. “I’m sorry,” Claire replied. She had never been close to the mother-in-law, who had kept her son’s affections on a short leash, but Nana had been a devoted grandmother to Claire’s children.
    â€œShe died in her sleep,” Robin said. “They think it was a heart attack. Dad is so upset.”
    â€œI’m sure he is, dear.”
    â€œThe funeral is Saturday. Dad wants me to come, but I have a paper due Monday.”
    Robin lived in Boston and was getting a master’s degree at Harvard.
    â€œWould you go for me, Mom?”
    â€œI don’t know, Robin. I’m not a part of the family anymore. Your father has a new wife.”
    â€œOh, Melissa,” Robin sighed.
    Listening to Robin complain about Melissa was a guilty pleasure, but one Claire was ashamed to indulge in.
    â€œEric can’t go either. He’s got a conference coming up,” Robin said.
    Eric was Claire’s son, who worked in the computer business in Silicon Valley.
    â€œSomeone who knew Nana when we were growing up should go. She was a good grandmother to us. You know she was, Mom. Please go.”
    â€œAll right,” Claire said.
    â€œWould you take care of the flowers for Eric and me?”
    â€œYes, dear.”
    â€œThank you so much, Mom. You’re the best.”
    Claire got off the phone wondering if she’d been conned by her own daughter and trying to remember how old Nana had been. Eighty-five? To die in one’s sleep of a heart attack at that age was not a bad death. It was sad, but it was inevitable. The death of people her own age or younger was not inevitable. Angry as she was at Evelyn, she still felt sadness at the circumstances of her death. She