Bad Hair 8 - Day Perish By Pedicure by Nancy J. Cohen Read Free Book Online

now that the crisis had dissolved. Her bare feet chilled on the cool tile floor. “Please help yourself to whatever you like in the kitchen.”
    “Tell me, my dear, how do you make coffee?” Lifting her chin, Justine sniffled. “I’m not familiar with this apparatus.”
    Who talks like that ? ‘You don’t know how to use an automatic coffeemaker?”
    Justine gave her a haughty glare. “We use a French press at home, and we grind our own beans.”
    I see you dress for your meals, too . It was only eight o’clock, and Justine wore a white silk blouse tucked into a canary yellow skirt, white hose with matching heels, and gold button earrings with a matching choker at her neck.
    Marla blinked. “You’ll find a package of ground coffee in the fridge and filters in the pantry. When I come back, I’ll make it for you if you haven’t figured it out by then.” Turning on her heel, she strode from the room.
    Lord save me. If I survive this, Dalton owes me . Imagining how she’d exact restitution, she showered, blew out her hair, did her makeup, then pulled on a pair of black slacks and a ruby knit top. Not knowing what to expect at the convention center, she snatched a black Ann Taylor jacket from its hanger in case she would need it later. One more thing . Picking up the telephone receiver, she dialed her salon and left a message that she’d be there that afternoon with the Luxor crew. Thank goodness Georgia had stayed overnight at the hotel, she thought, finishing with a sprite of perfume. Dealing with two houseguests already had her frazzled.
    “It’s nice of you to accommodate us,” Larry Keller told her after she’d returned to the kitchen and let Spooks inside. He’d spread the Saturday issue of the Sun-Sentinel on the table, which someone had set with three plates and utensils. While Larry read the news, his wife poured orange juice into glasses.
    The strong aroma of brewed coffee filled the room. Actually, it smelled more like burnt coffee. Sniffing, Marla sped to the counter, where liquid spilled from the coffeemaker. Suppressing an exclamation, she grabbed a sponge to mop up the overflow. Obviously Justine didn’t know how to measure water.
    Marla glanced at the woman. Justine had tied an apron around her waist, making her look even more like a housewife from the fifties. Who else wore heels to breakfast—on vacation, yet?
    “I’m sorry that I don’t have more time to spend with you this morning,” Marla said. “Can I do anything for you before I leave?”
    “No thanks, we’ll be fine.” Justine paused. “Dalton told us you have a friend staying here. Is she still asleep? I imagine she must be tired when you stayed out so late last night.” Her light brown eyes narrowed with disapproval.
    Late for you, maybe. I don’t have a curfew . “Georgia decided to stay at the hotel for the evening. Luxor
    Products sponsored a cocktail party last night. We were expected to attend.”
    “Yes, I got your note. I guess work keeps you pretty busy. It’s going to be tough juggling two full-time careers once you’re Brianna’s stepmother.”
    Justine’s voice broke on that last word, and she turned to stare out the window over the sink. A surge of sympathy engulfed Marla. This couldn’t be easy on Pam’s parents.
    It’s not easy for me, either , a selfish voice claimed inside her head. Dalton should have made room for them at his house.
    “Where do you keep your eggs?” Larry said suddenly. Marla noticed how he didn’t usually comment when his wife was speaking.
    “Oh, sorry, I didn’t put them in the egg bin because it needs to be washed out. They’re still in the box in the back of the refrigerator.”
    “I like mine scrambled,” he told her, returning his attention to the newspaper.
    Clucking her tongue, Justine wheeled around, her gaze traveling over the kitchen. “It’s so helpful when you have a woman coming in to clean every week, especially when you have a job outside the