Sisters and Husbands by Connie Briscoe Read Free Book Online Page B

white T-shirt and picked up all the bags, then paused and looked into her eyes. For a split
     second Evelyn thought she recognized the old Kevin. The one who
saw
her when he looked at her. The one who listened to what she had to say when she spoke. The one who genuinely cared about
     her feelings.
    Then in an instant he had brushed past her without another word. She followed him. “Kevin, you can’t just walk out. This is
     wrong.”
    She paused and watched as he moved down the stairs. He obviously had no intention of listening to her. “Fine!” she yelled,
     leaning over the banister. She was so tired, so weary of all the antagonism between them. “Go ahead, leave. Bastard! I don’t
     give a damn!”
    He crossed the foyer silently, and she grabbed the banister to catch her breath as he walked out and shut the door behind
     him. She straightened her shoulders, pulled herself erect, and willed her breathing to slow down.
One, two, three,
she counted to herself.
    Twenty minutes later, she realized that the sky had gone dark and that she was still gripping the banister so tightly her
     fingers ached.

Chapter 7
    I think you’re making a terrible mistake taking Otis back, Valerie,” Beverly said as they sat on the covered patio having lunch
     together on Monday afternoon at Phillips seafood restaurant on the Baltimore Harbor. Valerie had delivered the news to Beverly
     over the phone the previous night. After giving it a lot of thought she was going to give Otis another chance. Beverly couldn’t
     believe what she was hearing, but she had resisted the urge to call her best friend stupid, dumb, an idiot, and a whole lot
     more. Instead, she insisted that they meet face-to-face during their lunch breaks the following day.
    Beverly had decided to drive to the restaurant, even though it was only a mile from her office at the
Baltimore Sun
to the harbor. Parking at the harbor wasn’t a huge problem as long as you were prepared to pay to park in a lot. And driving
     would allow her more time to stay at the office and continue editing the feature article she was working on about the musicians
     who would be appearing at the Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, Maryland, for this summer’s concert series. Editing
     the annual feature about the concert was one of Beverly’s favorites tasks at the
Sun
. The series always attracted some of the biggest names in music, such as Roberta Flack, Jill Scott, Sheryl Crow, and Duran
     Duran, and this year would be no exception.
    “You don’t need to act desperate,” Beverly added after the waitress placed a bowl of steamed littleneck clams in front of
     her and a plate of crispy calamari in front of Valerie. Valerie was wearing a white cotton short-sleeved shirt, and Beverly
     could detect the faint outline of a bruise on her friend’s upper arm where she had hit the wall when Otis shoved her. Valerie
     was light-complexioned, and Beverly could tell that the bruise had looked much worse when it first happened. It was appalling
     to think of her friend being hurt by the man in her life.
    “I’m not acting,” Valerie said. “I’m forty-one years old and I’ve been single for more than twenty years. I
am
desperate.” Valerie had gotten pregnant and married—in that order—right out of high school, so she postponed college for
     a couple of years. By the time Valerie and Beverly met at Hampton University, Valerie was divorced and living in Newport News,
     Virginia, with her parents, who were helping her raise her baby daughter, Olivia. Although Valerie had done a good job with
     Olivia, who had graduated from college and gotten married herself about a year ago, life as a single mom hadn’t left Valerie
     with much time for a social life of her own. And a part of her resented that.
    Valerie took a generous sip from her beer. “I’m so tired of being alone I don’t know what to do, and I ain’t ashamed to admit
     it.”
    “I don’t get it,” Beverly said. “You have a