Bodies and Souls by Nancy Thayer Read Free Book Online Page A

an armchair and stood in the middle of the rug to do her exercises. At forty-five, her body was not voluptuous—it had never been that—but it was slim and firm and tight. It was neat . Like everything else in her life, this body of hers was kept up to her standards by discipline and energy. Even though the rest of her family were continually engaged in jogging or lifting weights or working out, and the house was often filled with the rhythmic thumps and thuds necessary to the maintenance of physical excellence, it would have discomposed her to have her husband and children know that she, too, exercised, because she needed to have them believe she was effortlessly perfect. So she waited until her husband and son had gone off to the office for the day, then locked herself in her bedroom on the second floor where no passerby could glance in, and went through her exercise routine to the accompaniment of radio music. But on Saturday and Sunday, when her family was at home all day, she found it necessary to run through her routine in quiet secrecy in the kitchen. If anyone woke and came downstairs, she could hear immediately and be in her robe and at the kitchen sink before they caught her.But this had never happened; her family liked to sleep late.
    Now she bent frontward, touching her toes with her fingers, then stretched upward. For twenty minutes, she exercised her body to a routine she had established years ago. Her goal was not beauty. She did not want to have a body that drew attention; quite the opposite. She was determined to have a body so clean and trim that no one would think to notice it at all.
    When she had finished her exercises, she sat for a moment, catching her breath, then slipped back into her robe and slippers. She would shower later, when the others were up. Now she opened the damper of the fireplace and laid kindling across the arms of the brass andirons and lit a fire. She went outside to gather up logs from the woodpile, and stood for a few moments to consider the day. It was cool and overcast, winter was coming: and on Christmas Day her son would marry the daughter of a college president.
    After the fire was going, Judy went into the working part of the kitchen. She had several things to accomplish this morning before going to church, because they would be having guests today. Ron had recently finished building a home for a new young doctor in town, and it was his custom to invite the more prosperous of his clients to dinner. Judy never minded fixing these dinners or spending the time telling newcomers about the town. She was always glad to give them the names of the best plumbers, electricians, clothing stores, and supermarkets. She was more than pleased to linger over a homemade chocolate cake in the dining room, telling her guests about families in town who had children the same age or similar sports or hobbies. By doing this, she received exactly what she wanted: people’s admiration and gratitude. In fact, almost nothing pleased her more than the sight of a new young couple staring with envy at the sight of her copper pots, silver bowls, crystal chandeliers, casually packed bookcases, well-trodden antique rugs. They yearned immediately to live here, to be her: to have a life as graciously arranged as her own.
    Today the couple coming to dinner were relatively young and as yet childless, so the entertaining would be easy. They would sit on the porch, if it did not rain, drinking cocktails, then have an early country dinner. There would be beef stew in wine, and Judy’s homemade whole-wheat bread, and applesauce Judy had made from apples fallen from trees in the old orchard, and a pie made from raspberries Judy had picked and frozen this summer and set out to thaw last night. Now she put a white paper filter in the glass coffeepot and set the water to boil. As she turned to the antique glass canister thatheld the flour, she remembered that Reynolds Houston had called yesterday afternoon and asked