Dust Eva Everson (story reading txt) 📖

But, she wouldn’t.

Before Patterson could wrap his mind around his two oldest girls having lives with romantic interests, Mary Helen was scheduling nearly every free minute with Nola and Eldon. Dinners. Horse shows. Even jaunts to the North Georgia mountains where the Edwards had a “weekend home.”

Making things more complicated was the fact that Mary Helen had warmed up since meeting them. Making herself available in ways she’d never done before. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, unless Nola’s innate sensuality had somehow rubbed off on his wife. But, while he relished the newness of their relationship, it certainly made things more difficult where his mistress was concerned.

Cindie had become just as demanding, but in a different way. Her new job had changed her. She’d grown into a savvy young woman with a head for business and had grown the program beyond her boss’s expectations. From the way she put it, Murray Kendricks couldn’t say enough good things about her. Indeed, to hear her tell it, Kendricks was ready to sign over the moon to her, were he to own it.

The one thing he had not been able to accomplish where Cindie was concerned was completely getting rid of the old roommate. Cindie made certain Patterson knew she still saw Kyle often enough, despite the fight they’d had years before.

Good Lord but that had cost him. The long-stem roses had been the easiest part of regaining her affections—and her trust. Cindie had used his slight upset to her full advantage.

First, there had been the down payment on an apartment with plush white carpeting, gold-tone walls, oak furnishings, and all the amenities she could think up. Then, there had been the jewelry. She wanted a pair of diamond earrings large enough to “mean something.” He’d bought them for her and threw in a matching tennis bracelet for good measure.

She’d rewarded him kindly that night. But tonight, Cindie was agitated, which wasn’t going along with his evening plans.

She’d received a letter from Michelle, who had turned eleven the month before. Her “once a week” letter that came typically on Wednesdays helped soften the time between the Sunday evening phone calls mother and daughter enjoyed. And, usually, Cindie read the child’s letter to him with giggles and sighs and exclamations of adoration. But tonight ... tonight Cindie’s bare feet peeked out from beneath the too-long red satin pajamas he’d recently treated her to as she paced back and forth on the thick white carpet and shook the letter at the ceiling.

“I don’t understand why you are so upset,” he told her. He’d kicked off his shoes and draped himself on the sofa in hopes that she would join him, but so far, she had not. “Come here. Let me hold you.”

Cindie folded the letter and shoved it back into its envelope, then slammed the whole thing onto the end table, before plopping down beside him. “Don’t you understand?” she whined as he wrapped his arms around her, aware of what lay beneath the cool material shimmering in the glow from the fire that gave the room its only light. “All she seems to talk about these days is what she is doing with … her.”

“Allison?”

“Don’t say her name to me.”

“What would you like me to call her then?”

Cindie pondered the question before answering, “Witch.”

“Is she?”

“Yes.” She turned toward him. “She’s stealing my daughter,” she said, then muttered, “They’ve beaten me at my own game.”

“You can go get her any time you want, Cindie.”

“No. I can’t. Westley has things sewn up so tight, managing to keep me at arm’s length all these years, and she’s put a dadburn bow around the whole thing.”

“Who has?”

“Allison,” she shouted, then swatted him. “You did that on purpose.”

He laughed as he slid a hand up the back of her pajama top, hopeful until she stood and walked across the room to peer out the window. To the parking lot where icy rain slicked the asphalt and turned the world into a Monet painting. “Girl Scouts. Piano. Dance. School. Her friends.” She turned and pointed toward the envelope. “That letter? All about the stupid tree in their stupid house and that she had bought a little fake one just for her room and they had decorated it with all pink and white ornaments.”

Patterson glanced at his watch, mindful of the time they were wasting. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, dinner was good tonight,” he said.

Cindie looked toward the kitchen where dirty dishes littered the countertops and filled the sink. One thing she never did—the dishes in front of him. Because she didn’t want to waste a single second of their time together, she’d once told him. “Glad you liked it,” she mumbled, then sighed as if she meant to expel all the air from inside her. “I’ve still got to get a tree before Michelle comes for Christmas break. I should have done it by now, but we’ve been so busy at work and—”

“Why don’t you wait until the two of you can do that together,” he suggested. “We’re waiting until Patricia gets in …” He allowed the words to fade; best not to bring up the domestic life he had with Mary Helen and the girls. Especially since it had improved so greatly.

“Why don’t you stick a knife in my heart and twist it,” she said. “First … a letter from my own kid telling me about … her and all she does … and now you want to paint me a pretty picture of Christmas warmth and love over at the Thackers’?”

Patterson rose from the sofa and shoved his feet into his loafers. “I’m going to leave while the going is good,” he said. “You’re in a mood I cannot fix.” He walked over and kissed her forehead. “I’ve been around enough women in my life to know when I’m beat.”

“No, wait,” she said, surprising him by throwing her arms around him. Kissing him. “Don’t