Reba patted Cindy’s hand. “And this dear girl is our mayor’s wife, Cindy Todd.”
The minister, a tall, slender man with thinning brown hair and washed-out blue eyes nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Todd. It would be an honor to have you and the mayor attend services with us this Sunday.”
Mrs. Stowe, though dressed conservatively in a simple beige linen dress, eluded an aura of sexiness—maybe it was the long, straight, platinum blond hair or the huge brown eyes framed by thick black lashes. She stood at her husband’s side, quiet and obedient, a bored expression on her face.
Cindy turned her attention to Mr. Stowe. “We certainly appreciate the invitation, but Jerry Lee and I are staunch Baptists.”
Before the minister could reply, Reba tugged on Cindy’s arm and said to the Stowes, “Y’all will excuse us, won’t you? I see Dr. and Mrs. MacNair over there all alone. I’ll just take Cindy over to meet them. Do mix and mingle. Enjoy yourselves. So glad y’all could come tonight.”
Reba rushed Cindy away, and when they were out of earshot of the Stowes, she said, “They’re the oddest people, don’t you think? She’s years younger than he is. I’d say no more than thirty, if that. And she acts as if she’s deaf and dumb. The woman hasn’t said a word since they arrived.”
“Maybe she’s shy,” Cindy said.
“Shy? I doubt it.”
Reba led Cindy toward a young couple standing off by themselves in the crowded room. The man had a stocky build, ruddy complexion, and a receding hairline, although he was probably in his early thirties. His wife was as tall as he, around five-nine, and was as willowy thin as he was stout. Although not really pretty, the strawberry blonde had a pleasant face. Cindy liked her instantly.
“Hello, there,” Reba called to the secluded twosome. Reaching them, she said to Cindy, “You must meet these lovely people. This is Dr. Galvin MacNair and Mrs. MacNair.” Reba stared at the wife. “What is your given name, dear?”
“Nina,” the young woman replied, a hint of a smile on her lips.
“Galvin has taken over Dr. Webster’s practice at the clinic,” Reba said. “He’s fresh from his residency in—where was it now? What city?”
“Bowling Green,” Galvin replied.
Cindy chatted with the MacNairs for several minutes after Reba moved on to charm more of her guests. She liked the young couple, the wife more than the husband, who seemed oddly quiet. She even made a date with Nina MacNair for lunch at the country club on Thursday.
Checking her watch, Cindy noted that it was nearly nine. She’d promised Dillon she would find a way to meet him tonight, even if only for an hour. When she’d made that promise she thought she would be able to fake a headache and stay home from the party, but Jerry Lee had seen through her ploy immediately.
“Get yourself dressed and be ready to go to the Uptons in twenty minutes,” Jerry Lee had told her, his round face red with rage. “If you aren’t ready by then, I’ll dress you myself—after I prove to you once again who’s the boss around here.”
Jerry Lee could be violent if pushed, and on several occasions he’d gotten rough with her. He’d never broken any of her bones, but he’d left her bruised and sore at least half a dozen times in the past four years. She thought about leaving him, dreamed of some other man whisking her away, but no one had come along to rescue her. Not until now. Not until Dillon. They’d been sleeping together for a month, ever since she’d joined the little theater group. He had moved to Cherokee Pointe late last summer after being hired by the city to oversee the local theater that produced plays to draw in the tourist trade.
What would Jerry Lee do if she went to him now and told him she had a splitting headache and needed to go home? He wouldn’t want to leave the party. Whenever either the Uptons or MacKinnons threw a party, Jerry Lee Todd was one of the first to arrive
The minister, a tall, slender man with thinning brown hair and washed-out blue eyes nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Todd. It would be an honor to have you and the mayor attend services with us this Sunday.”
Mrs. Stowe, though dressed conservatively in a simple beige linen dress, eluded an aura of sexiness—maybe it was the long, straight, platinum blond hair or the huge brown eyes framed by thick black lashes. She stood at her husband’s side, quiet and obedient, a bored expression on her face.
Cindy turned her attention to Mr. Stowe. “We certainly appreciate the invitation, but Jerry Lee and I are staunch Baptists.”
Before the minister could reply, Reba tugged on Cindy’s arm and said to the Stowes, “Y’all will excuse us, won’t you? I see Dr. and Mrs. MacNair over there all alone. I’ll just take Cindy over to meet them. Do mix and mingle. Enjoy yourselves. So glad y’all could come tonight.”
Reba rushed Cindy away, and when they were out of earshot of the Stowes, she said, “They’re the oddest people, don’t you think? She’s years younger than he is. I’d say no more than thirty, if that. And she acts as if she’s deaf and dumb. The woman hasn’t said a word since they arrived.”
“Maybe she’s shy,” Cindy said.
“Shy? I doubt it.”
Reba led Cindy toward a young couple standing off by themselves in the crowded room. The man had a stocky build, ruddy complexion, and a receding hairline, although he was probably in his early thirties. His wife was as tall as he, around five-nine, and was as willowy thin as he was stout. Although not really pretty, the strawberry blonde had a pleasant face. Cindy liked her instantly.
“Hello, there,” Reba called to the secluded twosome. Reaching them, she said to Cindy, “You must meet these lovely people. This is Dr. Galvin MacNair and Mrs. MacNair.” Reba stared at the wife. “What is your given name, dear?”
“Nina,” the young woman replied, a hint of a smile on her lips.
“Galvin has taken over Dr. Webster’s practice at the clinic,” Reba said. “He’s fresh from his residency in—where was it now? What city?”
“Bowling Green,” Galvin replied.
Cindy chatted with the MacNairs for several minutes after Reba moved on to charm more of her guests. She liked the young couple, the wife more than the husband, who seemed oddly quiet. She even made a date with Nina MacNair for lunch at the country club on Thursday.
Checking her watch, Cindy noted that it was nearly nine. She’d promised Dillon she would find a way to meet him tonight, even if only for an hour. When she’d made that promise she thought she would be able to fake a headache and stay home from the party, but Jerry Lee had seen through her ploy immediately.
“Get yourself dressed and be ready to go to the Uptons in twenty minutes,” Jerry Lee had told her, his round face red with rage. “If you aren’t ready by then, I’ll dress you myself—after I prove to you once again who’s the boss around here.”
Jerry Lee could be violent if pushed, and on several occasions he’d gotten rough with her. He’d never broken any of her bones, but he’d left her bruised and sore at least half a dozen times in the past four years. She thought about leaving him, dreamed of some other man whisking her away, but no one had come along to rescue her. Not until now. Not until Dillon. They’d been sleeping together for a month, ever since she’d joined the little theater group. He had moved to Cherokee Pointe late last summer after being hired by the city to oversee the local theater that produced plays to draw in the tourist trade.
What would Jerry Lee do if she went to him now and told him she had a splitting headache and needed to go home? He wouldn’t want to leave the party. Whenever either the Uptons or MacKinnons threw a party, Jerry Lee Todd was one of the first to arrive
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