Beads of Doubt by Barbara Burnett Smith Read Free Book Online

tap your toe to,” I said to Beth.
    She nodded. “You can’t complain, though. They’re volunteers.” Almost everyone who was working the party, from the caterers to the bartenders, was donating their time.
    “Which says a lot for—” I came to a full stop.
    Framed perfectly in the entryway was none other than Houston Webber. On his arm was a blonde. A tall, very slender, elegant blonde, which stunned me since his wife Rebecca has curly auburn hair and this woman obviously did not.
    Houston paused, the light glinting off his silver hair. He’d have been exceedingly distinguished, except for the furtive look on his face. I could understand why he was looking furtive. These were Rebecca’s friends and he ought to be real damn nervous about escorting another woman. My blood pressure shot up and I charged in that direction.
    Luckily by the time I got there the blonde was speaking. “Doesn’t everything look pretty?” She saw me. “Kitzi!” Both her arms went out.
    “Rebecca?” I hugged her. “I was about to give Houston hell—I didn’t even recognize you.”
    She grinned. “When I started losing my hair I was going to get an auburn wig, but I’ve always heard that blondes have more fun. You don’t see people racing out to get their hair dyed reddish brown. So, here I am.” She did a small curtsey. “Well?”
    I stepped back to look at her. With her green eyes she was as stunning as always—they mirrored the dark green Swarovski crystals against her elegant neck. “You look wonderful as a blonde. An Irish bombshell.”
    “That’s a new one. It’s fun, though, because no one recognizes me at first. In the grocery store I was in line behind two women from my bead class and they didn’t even give me a second glance.” She twitched at the wig, which was short and wavy. “Sometimes I think I look like a demented secretary, like in the old fifties movies.”
    “Not a chance. How are you feeling?”
    “Not too hot—surgery and chemo aren’t fun, but they say it seems to be working. And at least I get to experiment with new hair styles,” she said.
    I smiled with relief. They’d caught Rebecca at stage II, and after her diagnosis she’d gone through an extensive surgery. According to her they’d taken out everything below the waist that wasn’t keeping her alive or holding her up. A few weeks later she started on chemo. Fortunately, it sounded like the treatments were working.
    “But how about you?” she asked. “How are you doing?”
    “I’m doing fine,” I said.
    “You’ve lost some weight.”
    “I have a new exercise program.”
    Houston was looking nervous again, glancing at the door and around the room. I started to ask why when he said, “Rebecca, isn’t that Jill from your bead group?” He pointed to a woman across the room. “Didn’t you want to talk to her?”
    He moved Rebecca in that direction and she only had time to say, “Talk with you later, Kitzi,” before they were out of sight.
    I took a few steps and out of the crowd appeared Andrew, Houston’s faithful factotem. “How are you doing tonight?” I asked, wondering where in the world he’d come from.
    “I’m fine.” He was gazing around the conservatory, not so much at the crowd but at the room itself. “This is some house.”
    “Thank you. My grandfather had it built when he was governor. During that time the governor’s mansion was badly in need of renovation, so he used this as the official residence while they raised the money for the work.”
    It was the standard spiel, but I’d forgotten who I was talking to when I went into it. Since Andrew worked so closely with Houston, he probably had architectural blueprints of the Manse in his coat pocket. Along with Houston’s plans for the place. Condos or some such terrible thing.
    “I didn’t know your grandfather built this,” he said.
    “I thought you lived in Houston’s hip pocket and knew everything he did.”
    “Not lately.” He leaned forward,