Definitely Dead by Charlaine Harris Read Free Book Online

was a middle-aged black woman named Callie Collins. Callie was heavy, so heavy I didn’t know how she could get through the hours she spent standing on her feet in the hot kitchen. “Extra fries?” Callie said, as if she’d never heard of such a thing. “Uh-huh. People get extra fries when they pay for them, not because they friends of yours.”
    It could be that Callie was so sharp-edged because she was old enough to remember the bad old days when blacks and whites had different schools, different waiting rooms, different water fountains. I didn’t remember any of those things, and I was not willing to take into account Callie’s bundle of baggage every time I talked to her.
    “They paid extra,” I lied, not wanting to call an explanation through the service pass-through that anyone close enough could overhear. I’d put a dollar of my tip into the till, instead, to make up the money. Despite our differences, I wished Andy and his schoolteacher well. Anyone who was going to be Caroline Bellefleur’s granddaughter-in-law deserved a romantic moment.
    When Callie called up the basket, I trotted over to get it. Slipping the little box under the fries was harder than I imagined, and it required a bit of surreptitious rearrangement. I wondered if Andy had realized that the velvet would get greasy and salty. Oh well, this wasn’t my romantic gesture, but his.
    I carried the tray to the table with happy anticipation. In fact, Andy had to warn me (with a severe glance) to pull my face into more neutral lines as I served their food. Andy already had a beer in front of him, and she had a glass of white wine. Halleigh wasn’t a big drinker, as befitted an elementary school teacher. I turned away as soon as the food was on the table, even forgetting to ask them if they needed anything else, like a good waitress should.
    It was beyond me to try to stay detached after that. Though I tried not to be obvious, I watched the couple as closely as I could. Andy was on pins and needles, and I could hear his brain, which was simply agitated. He really wasn’t sure whether he’d be accepted, and his mind was running through the list of things she might object to: the fact that Andy was almost ten years older, his hazardous profession . . .
    I knew the moment when she spied the box. Maybe it wasn’t nice of me to eavesdrop mentally on a very special moment, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t even think of that at the time. Though ordinarily I keep myself well guarded, I’m used to dropping into people’s heads if I spy something interesting. I’m also used to believing that my ability is a minus, not a plus, so I guess I feel entitled to whatever fun I can have with it.
    I had my back to them, clearing off a table, which I should have left for the busboy to do. So I was close enough to hear.
    She was frozen for a long moment. “There’s a box in my food,” she said, finally, keeping her voice very low because she thought she’d upset Sam if she made a fuss.
    “I know,” he said. “It’s from me.”
    She knew then; everything in her brain began to accelerate, and the thoughts practically tripped over themselves in their eagerness.
    “Oh, Andy,” she whispered. She must have opened the box. It was all I could do not to turn around and look right along with her.
    “Do you like it?”
    “Yes, it’s beautiful.”
    “Will you wear it?”
    There was a silence. Her head was so confused. Half of it was going “Yippee!” and half of it was troubled.
    “Yes, with one stipulation,” she said slowly.
    I could feel his shock. Whatever Andy had expected, it wasn’t this.
    “And that would be?” he asked, suddenly sounding much more like a cop than a lover.
    “We have to live in our own place.”
    “What?” Again, she’d surprised Andy.
    “I’ve always gotten the idea that you assumed you’d stay in the family home, with your grandmother and your sister, even after you got married. It’s a wonderful old house, and