Cry Wolf by Tami Hoag Read Free Book Online

Mama?”
    “To the Goodwill in Lafayette,” Vivian Chandler said, not sparing a glance at her ten-year-old daughter.
    She stood beside the bed that had been her husband's, smartly dressed in a spring green shift with a strand of pearls at her throat. She looked cool and sophisticated, as always, like a model from out of a fashion magazine, her ash blond hair combed just so, pale pink lipstick on. She propped her perfectly manicured hands on her hips and tapped the toe of one white pump against the rug imaptiently as she supervised the proceedings. Tansy Jonas, the latest in a string of flighty young maids, hauled load after load of suits and shirts and slacks out of the closet to be sorted into piles.
    “Of course, we'll have to take some of it to the church,” Vivian said absently as she considered the armload of dress shirts weighing down poor Tansy. Tansy wasn't more than fifteen, Laurel reckoned, and thin as a willow sapling. The girl seemed to weave beneath the burden of silk and fine cotton cloth, her black eyes going wider and wider in her round dark face.
    “It's expected,” Vivian went on, inspecting the state of collars and cuffs, oblivious to Tansy's discomfort. “The Chandlers having always been the leading family hereabouts, it's our duty to contribute to the less fortunate in the community. Why, just the other day, Ridilia Montrose was asking me if I hadn't donated Jefferson's things,” she said, frowning prettily. “As if she thought I wasn't going to. She's got a lot of nerve, and I would have told her so if I weren't a lady. Imagine her looking down on me when everybody in town knows they nearly went bankrupt! And what a shame that would have been, because that daughter of hers has teeth like a mule, and it's going to cost a fortune to fix them.”
    She selected a pair of striped shirts, impervious to the pleading look on the maid's face, and tossed them into one of several piles on the bed. “I told her I just hadn't been up to sorting through Jefferson's things. Why, the mere thought of it had me on the verge of one of my spells. I can see, though, that I can't put it off a second longer, or there'll be tongues wagging all over town. I swear, that Ridilia isn't any better than she has to be.”
    Continuing in the same breath, she said, “Tansy, put the rest of those on the chair.”
    “Yas'm,” Tansy murmured with relief, staggering away under the weight of the load.
    “I'll sort through your father's things,” Vivian said to Laurel. “Never mind that it could send me into a tailspin. I'll donate to the church, but I'll die before I see no-account trash walking around Bayou Breaux in Jefferson's silk suits. They're going to Lafayette, and Ridilia Montrose can go to blazes.”
    Laurel scooted off the seat of the blue velvet armchair before the maid could bury her alive. She didn't like this at all. Seeing all of Daddy's things pulled out of his neat closet and strewn around his room caused a hollow, churning feeling in her tummy. She had played in his closet more times than she could count, sneaking in there with her Barbie dolls, pretending his big shoes were cars or boats or space ships. It had been her secret place for when she wanted to be all alone. It smelled of leather and cedar and Daddy. She had sat cross-legged on the floor and felt the legs of his neatly hung pants brush across the top of her head, and pretended they were vines and that she was inside a secret cave in the jungle and that his belts were snakes. Now it was all being torn apart to be given to strangers in another town.
    Chewing on a thumbnail, she sidled along the big mahogany bureau, her eyes on her mother. Vivian didn't look bothered at all by what she was doing, unless being cross counted. Laurel didn't think it did. It only meant that her mother would rather have been doing something else, not that this job made her sad. She said it might give her a spell, though, and that was a million times worse than just plain