Hush by Karen Robards Read Free Book Online Page A

she’d once sold her own cast-off designer clothes. Riley knew there was no way Margaret didn’t hate it, didn’t feel the sting of waiting on women who had once been her friends, but she had never uttered a word of complaint. And there it was again, Riley thought: class . Something that at this point she was pretty sure she herself was never going to acquire. “I’ll probably go back on Monday.”
    Unspoken between them was the fact that they needed the money. It was near the end of the month, and rent—for the house and Riley’s apartment—was due shortly. Margaret still struggled with the concept of “broke”—to a woman who’d always had unlimited available funds, who’d been able to write a check or swipe a charge card for anything she wanted, having to watch every penny was as alien as trying to live on the moon—but to her credit she was learning.
    â€œWhat about Emma?” Riley asked. Emma, a talented artist, was attending the Houston Museum of Fine Arts Painters’ Studio, a prestigious (free) summer program that she had worked hard to be accepted into. At one point her college plans had focused on the Rhode Island School of Design, but without a scholarship that probably wasn’t going to happen. She and Margaret were hoping that this summer program might open up some scholarship doors.
    Margaret sighed. “Monday? We’ll see.”
    â€œOkay.” Riley nodded again. “Listen, I’m going to head out now. I won’t be gone long. I’ll bring back ice cream. Strawberry.” It was Margaret’s favorite flavor. “And Chocolate Peanut Butter Crunch for Emma. Let’s see her resist that.”
    Margaret smiled. It was a thin, tentative thing, with lips that were a little tremulous, but it was a smile, the first one Riley had seen out of her since she had learned of Jeff’s death.
    We’re going to survive this, Riley promised herself silently.
    â€œRemember how she used to love to stop at Baskin-­Robbins?” The smile still hovered on Margaret’s lips. Riley did remember: when she’d first come to live at Oakwood, Emma had been a sturdy ten-year-old who would beg to stop for ice cream any time they went anywhere.
    And Jeff had still been her Prince Charming, and Margaret had been the kindly fairy godmother who’d taken a wary, jeans and T-shirt clad Riley under her wing and introduced her to the world of fine fashions, society functions, and the life of the uberrich in general, and George had been the arrogant bully, and had remained so right up until the moment of his arrest.
    That had been the thing that she’d brought to the table for Jeff—and Margaret and Emma, too. They were all three gentle souls, easily crushed, easily dominated. She was not. One thing she’d learned to do over the course of her life was stand up to bullies. She’d stood up to George for them.
    â€œMargaret!” Lynn Sullivan, a thin, expensively dressed brunette who was one of Margaret’s longtime social set, came up to them and, with a nod for Riley, put a toned and tanned arm around Margaret’s shoulders. “Darling, we missed you at the Founders’ Ball! You know we would love to have you back at Book Club! Why don’t you—”
    The Founders’ Ball was a charity gala that was the highlight of Houston high-society’s summer season. Two years before, Margaret had been its chair. This year she hadn’t even received an invitation, not that she would have attended if she had been invited. Her world had changed too radically.
    As Margaret listened to her friend extend an invitation to return to the monthly book club that she had once loved but whose members had made it wordlessly clear that they were now made uncomfortable by her presence, Riley moved away, slipping into the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it was small and crowded, with tired yellow walls and