The Girl On Legare Street by Karen White Read Free Book Online Page A

dead fiancée, that made me so uneasy.

CHAPTER 4
    The rest of my week seemed to pass in slow motion. With the high drama at the beginning of the week—marked by my mother’s sudden appearance and my grandmother’s bid for attention from the grave—I suppose it was inevitable. But even at work time crept by, my usual enthusiasm for my job somewhat muted as if I were being forced to view my life through half-closed eyes.
    On Friday morning as I dragged myself into the office, Nancy Flaherty met me at the door, her golf ball earrings swaying in time to her movements. “You look terrible,” she said as she took my coat and briefcase.
    “Thank you, Nancy. And how are you?”
    She draped my coat over her arm, then reached behind her to the receptionist’s desk and picked up a steaming mug of coffee before pressing it into my hands. “I’m thinking your grumpiness lately is because you’re missing Jack.”
    “Because I’m what?” My indignation was forced, mostly because I had the sneaking suspicion that she could be right. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s been kind of peaceful without him barging into my house to do research at all hours of the day and night,” I said, referring to the book he was currently writing about the former residents of the house I’d inherited. “And I don’t have to put up with any of his ridiculous observations or silly comments.” I took a sip of my coffee, studying it carefully so I wouldn’t have to meet Nancy’s knowing eyes. I would never admit to her, or anyone, that despite the presence of Mrs. Houlihan, my dad, Sophie, and Chad, the house had seemed a little empty without Jack’s overwhelming presence. Even General Lee hadn’t been able to fill the void.
    I raised my head, narrowing my eyes. “And why are you being so overly nice to me this morning?” I asked, indicating the coffee and my coat, which was still slung over her arm. “What’s wrong?”
    She pursed her lips as if deciding whether to lie to me or just blurt the truth out. Apparently deciding on the latter, she said, “Mr. Henderson’s waiting in your office. He wants to speak with you.”
    Although Dave Henderson was technically my boss and the owner of the company, he spent most of his time playing golf—which was what accounted for Nancy’s continued employment. There were few other employers who could put up with such a marked devotion to the game of golf to the exclusion of just about everything else—including running a business. Dave had been forced into an early retirement by his wife and cardiologist, which produced a collective sigh of relief by every employee of Henderson Realty. The relief was temporary at best, though, seeing as how he made a point of showing up at the most unexpected times, making sure everybody knew he was still the boss and keeping an eye on productivity. Mostly I saw Dave at sales awards dinners and the weekly sales meetings, where he served as main cheerleader and lead butt kicker. But he was rarely in the office on a nice day—even in the freezing cold. If the sun was shining, Dave was on a green.
    I put the coffee mug down, feeling suddenly ill, the donuts and latte from Ruth’s Bakery that I’d wolfed down earlier threatening to make a reappearance. “Any idea why he wants to see me?”
    Nancy gave me a nervous smile. “I’m not sure. But I think it has something to do with Jimmy. They were in his office yesterday and there was a lot of yelling going on.”
    “Oh, crap,” I said, picking up my briefcase and mentally girding my loins. If Dave Henderson was waiting in my office instead of on a green somewhere, it couldn’t be good.
    I stood outside my closed office door for a full minute, finding my composure, before turning the handle and standing on the threshold with a bright smile. Dave was sitting at my desk, reading the latest edition of the Post & Courier . My Day-Timer calendar, which I kept closed on the corner of my desk, was open as if he’d just