After the Frost by Megan Chance Read Free Book Online Page A

Miller. Why, I wanted to leave just so I could come back again."
    "I imagine." Stella smiled. She reached for the platter of fried chicken and handed it around the table. "We're all so happy to see you. I guess Lily's the happiest of all, isn't that true, Lil? It's not every day your own daughter comes back." She looked pointedly at Lillian, who smiled woodenly.
          "No, it's not."
          Rand took a bite of mashed potatoes. It was all he could do to swallow them.
          "Try these pickles, Rand." Stella handed him a small dish. "They're this year's."
          He took one politely, plopping it onto his plate. It glistened sickeningly beside his half-eaten chicken.
          Stella leaned forward, her beady eyes flashing. "So what kept you away so long, Belle? You were in New York, you say?"
          "New York's a big city." Paul Miller, Stella's husband, spoke from the end of the table. He wiped his heavy mustache with a napkin and sat back in his chair. "I hear it's full o' pickpockets and such."
          Stella flashed her husband an irritated glance.
          Rand's stomach tightened. He didn't want to look at Belle, told himself he didn't give a damn where she'd been or what she had done there. But he couldn't take his eyes from her. He felt the tension in his body as he waited for her answer.
          "Well," she said slowly, still picking at her chicken. "I guess you could—"
          "Mama, we're all done." Abby Miller took her last sip of milk and looked at her mother. She squirmed impatiently in her chair. "Can Sarah 'n me go out to play?"
          Stella nodded distractedly. "Yes, go on—but come on back if you want pie."
          "Don't get dirty, Sarah," Lillian said.
          No one was watching Belle—no one but Rand—and he saw the slight tightening of her jaw, the way she took a deep breath as if to hold in her temper. The chicken fell from her fingers, and she wiped them on the napkin in her lap. He wondered if her hands were clenched beneath the table, wondered what the hell she was thinking.
          There was a clamor as the two girls pushed back their chairs and rushed outside. The front door slammed shut in their wake.
          Stella swiveled back to Belle, her sharp features taut with curiosity. "I'm sorry, Belle. You were sayin'?"
          "Dangerous place, New York is," Paul said. "Ain't that so?"
          Belle looked at him and smiled, the kind of charming smile Rand had seen so many times before, knew intimately. "I s'pose it's dangerous enough," she said slowly. "There are lots of people there. It's a big city."
          "And you all alone." Stella tsked. "How did you bear it?"
    "I wasn't alone, Miz Miller," Belle said. "A friend of mine lives in a boardin' house there. I worked for her."
          Stella looked scandalized. "In a boardin' house?"
          "A very respectable house, Stella," Lillian broke in.
          "I see."
          "Didn't you say you cooked for them, dear?"
          Belle laughed, a snicker that set Rand's nerves on edge and stiffened his spine. "No, Mama. I couldn't cook to save my life."
          Lillian's eyes clouded. Rand saw the subtle thinning of her lips. Her voice was steel-edged. "But when you wrote me, you said—"
          "When I wrote you?" Belle's eyes opened wide in surprise. "Why, there were so many letters, Mama, I hardly remember that one. Are you sure I said cookin'?"
          Stella looked avidly from Belle to Lillian. Rand could almost see the woman sniffing for blood.
    He scooted back his chair. It screeched on the floor. "How about some coffee, Stella?"
    "Oh, of course." Stella jerked to her feet. "Goodness, I was so interested in Belle's stories, I nearly forgot."
    Rand felt Lillian's eyes on him, but he leaned forward, focusing his gaze on Paul, determined to change the subject. "So, Paul, are you still planning to show that ram at the fair?"
    "You bet I am."