The Brutal Heart by Gail Bowen Read Free Book Online Page B

couldn’t believe he was with such a knockout.”
    It had been a long time since Taylor curled up on my knee, but that morning she put her arms around my neck and moved in close. “I guess you don’t have a picture of her at that dance.”
    “No, Taylor, I don’t. I’ve kept a lot of other pictures of your mum. Whenever you’re ready to look at them, you let me know.”
    Taylor nodded. “I’ve always just liked looking at the art she made.” She drew closer. “That’s been enough.”
    For once, Taylor and I didn’t hurry our time together. We each had our own thoughts, and we both realized moments like this had become finite. Taylor was the one who broke our reverie. “I’d better get ready for school,” she said. “At the Farewell, I’m actually getting some dorky prize for attendance.”
    She started to leave, then stopped. “What did you wear to the dance?”
    “Little pearl earrings, a pearl necklace, a strapless pastel dress with a tulle skirt, and illusion heels so I wouldn’t be taller than my date.”
    Taylor’s smile reflected both love and pity. I felt a pang. It was the smile her mother had given me a thousand times in the years when we were best friends.
    When I came out of the shower, Taylor was in my bedroom dressed, munching a piece of toast with peanut butter, and looking critically at the outfit I’d planned to wear to court: a champagne blouse and slacks outfit that I’d loved for fifteen years.
    “How come you’re getting all dressed up today?” she asked.
    “I’m going to court with Ginny Monaghan.
    Taylor rolled her eyes. “Boy, you should hear the jokes the kids tell about her. They say she’s a cougar.”
    “Nice,” I said.
    Taylor chewed thoughtfully. “It is kind of mean, isn’t it? And you know, last night, she really did seem nice. None of the boys would dance with Gracie because she’s so tall, and Ms. Monaghan told Gracie that it was great being tall – you could see more.” Taylor turned her attention back to my clothes. “Is this what you’re wearing?”
    “I like it,” I said.
    “I like it too,” Taylor said. “Except you wear it everywhere.” She cocked her head. “That scarf Zack gave me for Christmas would make it look a little less …”
    “Boring?”
    Taylor raised an eyebrow. “I was going to say ‘beige.’ ” She flashed off the bed and came back with her scarf: a Paul Klee print that was neither boring nor beige. She held it against the blouse. “Okay?”
    “More than okay,” I said. “Thanks. Now you’d better scoot. You don’t want to forfeit your dorky prize.”
    I’d just opened my laptop to check out the press coverage of Ginny’s case when the phone rang. It was Ed Mariani, sounding buoyant. “I know it’s never too early to call you,” he said. “You’re like Barry – an early bird. After all that travelling yesterday, Barry was up at the crack of dawn, fresh as a daisy, doing his sit-ups. He still has a twenty-eight-inch waist. I tell him that, after the age of forty, no man but a drag queen has a twenty-eight-inch waist, but he just pats the place beside him on the mat and invites me to join him in a few stretches.” Ed sighed. “As if I could. These days, even bending to tie a shoelace is a hero’s journey for me. But I didn’t call to whine. Your Martha Washington geraniums are ready to be hardened, and when Martha’s ready, she’s ready. Can I drop them by some time this morning?”
    “Sure, but can you make it in the next hour? I promised Ginny Monaghan I’d be in court with her this morning.”
    “How come?”
    “Quid pro quo. I’m going to stay with her campaign until E-Day, then use Ginny’s experience for that script about women in politics I showed you.”
    “Shrewd move,” Ed said. “What you wrote is thoughtful and well researched, but it’s a little …”
    “Beige?” I said.
    Ed laughed. “Well, the exploits of a sexual swashbuckler would add colour.”
    “And make a point,”