A Deadly Snow Fall by Cynthia Gallant-Simpson Read Free Book Online

later, rising from deep, lilac-scented bubbles I was ready
for a fun evening. Daphne had picked up a couple of new members who
were unknown to me, so new friends would be made over good food and
good books.
    I made a plait of my hair that needed a trim.
Maybe some lighter streaks for summer. I had to ask Daphne who did
her hair locally. As the evening was cool, that wily, quixotic fox
still fooling around with the season, I donned a black cotton
turtleneck sweater and rust-colored, butter-soft suede jeans. A
half-dozen silver bangles and large silver hoop earrings and I was
ready.
    I lit candles and did a final check on the
food. The wine was chilling. It promised to be a fine evening.
Daphne outdid herself by arriving on time. At seven sharp, she and
three other women appeared. Right behind them came my next door
neighbor Alice Kline and two women I’d seen around the village but
had never met. After introductions, we enjoyed appetizers in the
living room.
    Everyone enjoyed the dinner and finally, it
was time for the dessert. I suggested we all retire to the sitting
room for the final course and tea and coffee. I delivered the
shiny, chocolate ganache-frosted cream puffs on a large, blue,
Provencal platter to happy applause.
    “Oh Liz, they look so scrumptious. Promise me
there’s not a calorie in them.” Mary Ellen pleaded.
    “Not a one, dive in.” I answered.
    Sated and nursing our hot drinks and/or after
dinner cordials, it was time for getting down to business. Licking
the chocolate ganache from her lips to get every last morsel Daphne
opened the business meeting. “I suppose the group ought to have a
name. Any suggestions?”
    “Oh, I know, I know. How about Les Girls?
It’s got such a nice ring to it.” That was the newest member,
Geraldine.
    “Yes, but what if we get some male members?”
I asked and was immediately challenged.
    “Oh pleeeeze, no. Men are beasts!”
Geraldine.
    Daphne smiled at the handsome, big-boned but
very attractive woman dressed in a smart pant suit and the two high
fived in female solidarity. I’d liked Geraldine right from our
introduction when she’d admired the wall and furniture colors and
complimented me on my good taste.
    “Now, we all know men are beasts but
necessary beasts. Anyway, we might uncover some intelligent,
well-mannered, interesting bibliophiles, even here at the end of
the world.” My attempt to broaden the perspective. I might have
been proposing the admittance to our lofty club of warlocks and
vampires if Geraldine’s look was any indication of the extent of my
crime against the nature of good sense.
    Daphne’s sly grin I knew only too well. What
was she up to, I wondered?
    “Listen up, girls. Geraldine ought to know
about men. After all, she used to be one.” Daphne waited for the
reaction.
    “You were, Geraldine? That’s great. It’s like
having a double agent in the group. Oh, there is so much you can
teach us.” You could have knocked me over with a feather. The
lovely woman who reminded me of the sixties Swedish actress Anita
Ekberg from movies my mother used to watch, had formerly been a
man? Amazing. Naïve me asked, “Was it very painful to make the
change?”
    “Just a few chemicals and a snip here and a
tuck there and voila! Most fun was buying lacy bras and
underpants.” We all dissolved into laughter; the conversation
drifted off in many directions and we never came up with a name for
the club.
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
    The next morning, as I was taking a batch of
chocolate coconut biscotti from the oven, the old-fashioned wall
phone in the kitchen jangled. The Pointillists, the local
needlepoint club named for the nineteenth century French art
movement characterized by applying points of paint that resulted in
works of art, had hired the dining room for their meeting that
afternoon. I’d offered to donate the pastries and coffee and tea.
Good for business but also because everyone in the village had made
me feel so welcome. It was