A Most Unpleasant Wedding by Judith Alguire Read Free Book Online Page A

especially because she thought he was an orphan. He wasn’t, but, since he had told her he was, he couldn’t take it back. At first, he thought he couldn’t tell her the truth because she might decide he didn’t need all those extra pieces of pie if he had parents. But now he realized he couldn’t tell her because knowing he had lied to her would hurt her feelings. He knew she would find out someday, probably when his parents died. Someone would put a notice in the paper and Mrs. Rudley read the local paper every morning. He decided that the only way to shield Mrs. Rudley from the truth would be to have her die before his parents did. But he didn’t want that to happen either. He liked Mrs. Rudley. He comforted himself with the knowledge that the day of reckoning lay in the distant future: Mrs. Rudley’s mother had lived a long time and his grandmother was still living. He calculated it might be fifty years before his parents passed on, and, by that time, Mrs. Rudley’s memory might not be very good. Besides, he would be old by then too and Mrs. Rudley always said it was important to be kind to old people.
    He watched a grey squirrel work its way down the pine tree, then picked up his towel and went outside to his camp shower. He would rather have washed in the lake as he had for years, but last year Mrs. Rudley told him he couldn’t. She said the soap wasn’t good for the fish. He guessed it wasn’t, but, since he was the only one who bathed in the lake, he didn’t think it would do any harm. He thought the real reason Mrs. Rudley had barred him from the lake was that a lady with a cottage on the point had complained that she saw a naked man in the lake while she was watching the deer with her binoculars. He could have showered in the bunkhouse but he liked to be outdoors.
    He showered, dressed, and hung his towel on a tree limb to dry. He was hungry but he wanted pancakes and Gregoire wouldn’t have the griddle ready until nearly seven. He got out the cultivator, planning to work on the flower beds at the front of the inn. Then he would go in for a coffee and a bun until Gregoire could fix his pancakes. He rounded the corner of the inn, stopped.
    A man lay on his back on the wicker lounge on the veranda, his hat tipped over his eyes. Lloyd leaned the cultivator against the wall and climbed the steps to the veranda.
    â€œYoo hoo.”
    The man mumbled, waved him away.
    Lloyd shook the man by the shoulder. “Yoo hoo.”
    Jack Arnold pushed his hat back. He was unshaven and stank of stale booze. “What in hell do you want?”
    â€œPeople’ll be coming in soon for breakfast.”
    Arnold stared at him. “What time is it?”
    â€œLate. Almost six-thirty.”
    Arnold pulled his hat back down to shield his eyes against the sunlight. “Christ, what are you doing up at this hour?”
    â€œThings to do. You stay here all night?”
    Arnold sighed. “I guess so.”
    Lloyd grinned. “I like sleeping outside too, but Mrs. Rudley doesn’t like it. She says I’ll get pneumonia.”
    Arnold turned his head, groaned, massaged his neck. “I don’t know about sleeping outdoors but I wouldn’t recommend sleeping on this thing.” He gestured toward the door. “I don’t suppose I could get a cup of coffee.”
    Lloyd pointed to the trail of mud up the steps and across the veranda. “You got mud on your shoes.”
    Arnold cocked his head to look down. “Guess I do.” He yawned. “Maybe I’ll just wait until the dining room opens.”
    â€œI can get you some coffee, but you can’t go into the dining room with your boots all muddy.”
    Arnold looked at the veranda. “I guess I did track it all over.”
    â€œAnd on the cushions,” said Lloyd, pointing to the lounge.
    Arnold managed to look sheepish. “Forget the coffee. I’ll go down to my cabin and call