Shadow Notes Laurel Peterson (best reads TXT) 📖

know how bad it was—for her. He—” He pressed his fingers to his eyelids to stop the trickle and spoke through his own darkness. “My sisters wanted me to tell you they were sorry. They couldn’t face you.”

“We have time. We’re family.” He opened his eyes and moved as if to hug me, then stopped himself. I folded him into my arms. “We’ll figure it out.” Over his shoulder, I saw Mother watching from the door.

Paul and Richard arrived next, followed by Bailey. I made them all sit down and take glasses of champagne. Richard’s color was better, and Paul told me later that the antibiotics and the de-stressing had helped put him on an even keel. Loretta and Ernie came soon after, looking worn out, but more peaceful. Nat Mueller and his wife, and Maria Leiber landed last, coming into the solarium with Kyle, who had disappeared a few moments before. They were laughing over the packages he was carrying. The larger had a red and gold bow on it, and he deposited it in my lap. Then, he sat down next to me—right next to me.

Inside, under layers of gold tissue, was a beautiful red silk shawl embroidered with creamy white flowers. “They’re magnolias, the state flower of Louisiana,” he said. “Merry late Christmas.”

I let the heavy fabric slide through my fingers. The workmanship was exquisite. “Where did you get this? It’s beautiful.”

“Mama makes them. She put us all through school with her sewing. Neiman Marcus picked her up as a vendor in the eighties and she’s still selling strong.”

“I’d buy one,” Maria said. “They must sell out before they hit the stores. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“She can’t work as fast as she used to, even with the people she’s hired to help, and well, Katrina didn’t help any.”

I suddenly saw that image again of Kyle surrounded by Katrina’s muddy detritus. Why couldn’t he go back to New Orleans? “I’d love to meet her,” I said. Bailey gave a quiet, giggly whoop.

“Now’s not a good time,” he said shortly, then covered it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Mother came into the room with an array of cheese and little quiches arranged on a silver tray etched with whirly designs. She set it on the coffee table and moved a poinsettia to a side table, where it shimmered in the sunshine.

Kyle handed her the other box. “There’s one for you, ma’am.”

Mother carefully removed the paper to reveal a smaller scarf with a design of green ivy on a gold silk background. “It’s lovely, Kyle. Thank you.”

Emma looked at me with round eyes. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Kyle guffawed. “A date might be a good idea.”

Her mouth formed an “oh,” but she looked at me as only a teenager in awe of a woman with a handsome boyfriend can be. Maybe we could do some sister outings—shopping or a play in the city. Something else to think about in the new year. I handed her the box. “Feel the fabric. Isn’t it luscious?”

I turned back to Kyle. “Thank you. I feel very honored. May I have your mother’s address, so I can thank her?”

He nodded his assent.

I added, “You never know. She might like me so much she decides to relocate.”

“If I keep my job, after all the damage you’ve done in this town.”

Mother said, “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

He looked at her, the question on his face.

She grinned ruefully. “With the Winters out of the way, I’ve the influence, you know.”

“Except for me,” Nat chimed in. His wife patted his leg. “But I’m thinkin’ of running for Senate, now that the Republicans need a candidate. Ya think I gotta shot?” He grinned and winked at me.

Kyle leaned back and crossed his legs. “Mama would like you all a whole lot. She likes integrity. I sure wish I could persuade my family to leave New Orleans.”

The doorbell rang and Mother stood, hastily untying her apron. Richard raised an eyebrow at me. Paul and Maria leaned in to sample the cheese, and began passing quiches and napkins.

I would have to find out what had happened in New Orleans later.

I heard talking from the hall, then Mother beckoned to me from the doorway. I pushed off the blanket and padded across the room in my socks. Reaching the hall, I was suddenly self- conscious about my lack of footwear, as standing there was the handsome silver-haired man from Mother’s Christmas fête. The one she hadn’t introduced me to.

“Vance Hardison, meet my daughter Clara. Vance and I have been seeing each other for about a year now.”

“Vance?” The name rang a bell, but I couldn’t place it.

Mother said, “He’s the President of the Association of State Democratic Chairs and Chair of the Montana Democratic Party.”

“Hugh’s friend! Hugh told you about Andrew Winters, and you started the ethics investigation.”

He smiled and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Clara. I’ve heard a lot about you.” It was a perfect hand, manicured and lightly tanned. A Philipe Dufour watch glimmered at the edge of his white shirt cuff, which extended the requisite half inch beyond the end of his suit sleeve. The suit itself was a gorgeous navy wool, pinstriped wispily with silver-gray. The fact that he wore a pair of Timberland work boots made the outfit eerily reminiscent of the last time I’d seen Andrew Winters, but Hardison’s mischievous smile trumped any misgivings. He knew exactly what Mother said about me, he knew what I’d said about Mother, and with all her faults, he loved her. I surprised myself by hoping it worked out.

I turned to Mother. “A boyfriend—hidden away all this time—and no one knew?”

She gave me a cool look. “Do control yourself, Clara. Really.”

Ah. That’s the woman I knew and loved. “It’s lovely to meet you, Vance. Come have some champagne.” I wrinkled my nose at Mother and led the way back into the room.

Maria leapt up. “Oh, Vance. You made