The Ninth Step by Barbara Taylor Sissel Read Free Book Online

at her.
    “What isn’t fair.”
    Gus set her oversized handbag on the bar, bracelets rustling. Livie caught the scent of White Diamonds, a richer undertone of shea butter.  
    “It’s from Cotton,” Kat explained and then, helpfully, she reported all that she and Livie had discussed and delivered her opinion that Livie was a mess.
    “I’m not a mess.” Livie was indignant. Of the three of them, she was the least likely candidate to be a mess. Even they would say so.
    “There is one good thing about Livie’s man troubles,” Kat went on unperturbed, “they take my mind right off my own.”
    “I don’t have man troubles,” Livie protested.
    “You’re in la-la land,” Kat said.
    “Oh, sweetie.” Gus cupped Livie’s cheek, searching Livie’s gaze.
    “I’m fine, Mom. It’s kind of a shock, that’s all.”
    Kat said, “Charlie told the sheriff in Hardys Walk so he can keep an eye out.”
    “He said he was going to--” Livie tried to correct Kat.
    “Good.” Gus tsked her tongue. “What bothers me is that Cotton knows where you live. I imagine he found you through your website. I know you need that for your business, but it leaves you so exposed. Anyone with who knows what on their mind can find you and you’re so isolated out there in boonieville.”
    “Hardys Walk is hardly boonieville.” Livie was exasperated.
    “It’s the sticks compared to Houston,” Kat said.
    “It suits me, thank you very much,” retorted Livie. “We’re off the subject. “Why does everyone assume Cotton’s dangerous?”
    “Not dangerous, darling, worrisome.” Livie’s mother took a mug from the cabinet and helped herself to coffee. “Good grief, I thought I was coming over here to hold Cookie’s hand. Have you heard from Tim since he picked up the children for school?”
    Kat shook her head.
    “Why don’t you get dressed, do something with your hair. We’ll go to lunch at Maxim’s, my treat. You’ll feel better. Livie, you come, too. We’ll make a day of it.”
    A muffled progression of notes, the opening bars of Für Elise , chimed into the pause. Livie dug in her purse and took out her cell phone, looking at the Caller ID. “It’s Delia.”
    Kat straightened. “Does she know?”
    “I left her a message to call me, but I can’t tell her over the phone.” Livie looked up, stomach in a knot. “I have to go see her.”
    Kat groaned and slid off her stool. “Why do you always have to be so good all the time?”
    “It’s not that. I just--”
    “Maybe Cotton wrote to her too,” Kat said.
    “That’s what Charlie thinks.”
    “If that were true, she’d have called Livie, or one of us, to crow about it,” Gus said darkly.
    “Well, honestly, given the way Delia treats Livie, I don’t know why she has to tell her anything.” Kat carried her coffee mug to the sink. She bent over and peeled off Tim’s socks.
    Livie stowed her phone and Cotton’s letter and shouldered her purse. “I just have to, that’s all.”
    #
     Delia smelled of gin and the Blue Grass perfume she wore as a cover and she felt brittle in Livie’s arms. More scant than the perfunctory hug she allowed Livie to give her. They sat across from each other in Delia’s living room, Delia in one corner of the gold, crushed velvet sofa and Livie in the ancient matching platform rocker. A pillow was lumped uncomfortably against her back.
    Delia lit a cigarette and squinted at Livie through the smoke. Why in the hell are you here? Livie half expected to hear Delia say it. She glanced at the floor. Delia had on a pair of gold slides and her ankles below the hem of her slacks were bare, netted in a tracery of delicate blue veins. They looked swollen, probably from sitting so much, Livie thought, from never doing anything. Her heart pounded dully in her chest.
    “Do you want coffee? I think I have some instant in the fridge.”
    “No, thank you,” Livie answered.
    Delia smoked and the sharp drag of her breath filled the silence. Livie