Weeping Angel Read Online Free PDF

unattractive. The problem was, he was too disarmingly handsome for the ladies in town to take a deserved dislike to. They’d forced Charley Revis out of business, and the only reason they tolerated Lloyd’s Palace was because the rickety building with its washed-up singer was so sorry, it posed no threat to their delicate senses. Besides, the bar had been there since Weeping Angel’s founding, and it was somewhat of a monument with its broken shutters and crooked front doors.
    Though no respectable woman had ever set foot inside the false-fronted Moon Rock Saloon with its rumored diamond-dust mirrors, thirty-foot golden walnut bar, crystal glasses, scarlet carpet, and brass fixtures, Amelia suspected they were dying to. Mr. Brody’s showplace was the topic of the day, and she feared anything to help him add luster to his saloon would be at her expense. Allowing all these infatuated ladies the vote could sway the result in his favor. But by the same token, the men had been interested in the Moon Rock since its opening and they would surely vote for the piano to go there so they wouldn’t have to hear the Palace’s secondhand music. “Wait!” she rushed. “I propose only the married couples vote, that way we know the ratio of men and women are equal.” At least she would have a fifty percent chance of winning. Perhaps even greater because eight of the wives had daughters signed up for lessons. Certainly they didn’t want their girls inside a drinking parlorpracticing their scales, and would whisper their objective views to their spouses before the vote.
    â€œThat does seem the democratic way,” the mayor remarked in a resonant voice filled with authority. “Do you have any objections, Mr. Brody?”
    Frank shrugged. “None I can speak in a church, so I guess this is the way it has to be.” His gaze landed intimately on Amelia and inexplicably put her at odds. Then he moved on to give the whole of the room—the ladies in particular—a lazy smile. His full curving mouth oozed so much masculinity, Amelia felt gooseflesh rise as if it were the dead of winter.
    â€œAll right, everyone who can vote, get themselves a scrap of paper,” Mayor Dodge stated while walking toward his wife to procure a torn-off piece of her grocery list to cast his vote on.
    â€œAre you sure you know what you’re doing?” Narcissa asked her husband.
    The mayor cast a glance at Amelia. “Yes, dear. This is the only fair way.”
    Amelia nodded in reluctant agreement, hoping her dearest friend and her husband would be of some help in swaying the decision in her favor.
    As everyone thought on their vote, Frank began to whistle “The Yellow Rose of Texas.” His musical pitch was perfect; and she admitted to herself with reluctance, he had an ear for music—even though he harmonized a common melody.
    Catching her staring at him, he winked, making no bones about the fact that the sparkle in his eye was meant for her.
    Amelia’s mouth dropped open. Aghast, she suddenly knew exactly what he was up to. Whetting the men’s appetites with a tuneful reminder of what they’d be hearing if they voted for him to take the piano.
    She tried to disguise her annoyance in front of the others, wishing she knew how to whistle, too. Since she didn’t, she began to hum Beethoven’s Fifth Symphonyin as loud a voice as she dared. She’d barely gotten into the twelfth bar when a hand touched her shoulder from behind.
    â€œAre you all right, dear?” Esther Parks whispered.
    Amelia immediately ceased her humming and turned her chin a notch. “I’m fine.”
    Grenville cocked his head around and said, “Miss Marshall has phlegm in her throat, Esther. Leave her alone.”
    Amelia wanted to slither from her seat.
    The ushers from the prior Sunday’s service took the ballots. Mayor Dodge collected them, and after tallying the votes, he