A Broth of Betrayal by Connie Archer Read Free Book Online Page B

coordinated perfectly
     with her outfit.
    “Now, Cordelia. Try to have some compassion, for heaven’s sake,” Elizabeth replied.
    “Compassion?” Cordelia’s voice had risen. “If this town had compassion, she’d be locked
     up and cared for. That would be the humane thing to do—not allowing her to wander
     the roads and the town at all hours doing who knows what. Why, she’s not fit to take
     care of herself. Look at the way she’s dressed.”
    “Please keep your voice down. I wouldn’t want her to hear you.”
    “Someone has to take charge of her. She’s obviously dotty.”
    “On what grounds would you suggest we do that? She may not meet your strict standards,
     but she bothers no one. She has her own home and income. Frankly, Cordelia, it really
     is none of your business if Maggie Harkins chooses to wander the town looking disheveled.”
    “People like that”—Cordelia’s lip curled—“make our town look bad. As you must know,
     my ancestor was a Vermont militiaman and this is a very important celebration for
     me and my sisters. I have several guests from the Daughters of the American Revolution
     arriving for our Reenactment of the Battle and it simply creates the wrong impression.”
    “I realize that, Cordelia, and I’m sorry Maggie doesn’t meet with your approval, but
     whether the DAR approves of her or not, she is a resident of Snowflake and has committed
     no crime. She needs to be left in peace.”
    Cordelia glared at Elizabeth, while Elizabeth maintained a calm and reasonable composure,
     letting her words sink in. Cordelia’s cheeks were flushed, and she was obviously chagrined
     that Elizabeth had bucked her. She turned on a pristine heel and headed toward the
     white-steepled church at the end of the Green.
    “Whew,” Elizabeth said when Cordelia was a good fifty feet away. “That woman.” She
     shook her head.
    “What was all that about the Daughters of the American Revolution?”
    Elizabeth groaned. “Cordelia Cooper Rank is a DAR and she never ever lets anyone forget
     it. Her husband, Norman, is from a very old, wealthy family. Although why all that
     is so important, I have no idea. Half the people in this town can point to ancestors
     that go back just as far. So what? What’s important is how you behave in the twenty-first
     century, if you ask me. And that woman needs to learn some manners.”
    “Well, I certainly know her husband. He’s our landlord at the Spoonful. All the same,
     I don’t know how you do it.” Lucky marveled. “How you handle the politics, the budget,
     the town council, the voters and the personalities. I stand in awe.”
    “Not at all. I’ve just lived a long time and I can smell the lawn fertilizer a mile
     away. And now that I’m an old lady . . .”
    “You’re hardly old.”
    “I’ll be sixty in a couple of years and I’ve earned the right to say what I please
     and talk like a longshoreman. Maybe I should learn some good old Navy cuss words from
     Jack, even if I can’t tell time to suit him.”
    Lucky laughed. “Why don’t you take a break? Come on back with me. We have a fabulous
     celery and green onion soup that Sage serves cold. Just the thing for a hot day.”
    “All right, I will. Thanks, Lucky. But after that, I’ll have to get back to the office.
     I just know that Cordelia Cooper Rank, DAR extraordinaire, will have left several
     messages to torture me further.”

Chapter 7

    T HE SPOONFUL WAS noisy and packed with customers by the time Lucky and Elizabeth arrived. The room
     was bright with afternoon sunshine, but the ceiling fans kept the cool air circulating.
     The aroma of soups and breads filled the room, and Jack’s favorite CD with a clarinet
     solo played in the background, softening the clatter of dishes and trays. A large
     group of demonstrators had descended on the Spoonful. They were elated that the discovery
     of a body had put an end, however temporary, to construction. Judging by some of the