The Postman Always Purls Twice by Anne Canadeo Read Free Book Online Page A

looked like she was going to playfully barf some back up. “Amazing,” she said, putting down her teacup.
    â€œI can’t offer anything that exotic. But we always share a nice dinner and some wine with our knitting. And we look forward to seeing both of you,” Maggie added, extending the invitation to Alicia.

    A few moments later, Maggie and her friends regrouped on the sidewalk, a short distance from the shop. Fans still waited five deep around the fence, but the TV news vans were gone.
    Maggie was about to suggest that they all head to the Schooner. It was half past eleven, and having woken up at five, she was definitely ready for lunch.
    But before she had time to speak, Suzanne gripped her arm with one hand and pointed with the other. “Look at the limo! I wonder who’s in there?”
    Lucy stepped around Maggie for a better view. “Looks like we’re going to find out. It’s pulling up at the shop.”
    Maggie and her friends scurried down the sidewalk, chasing the sleek luxury car that cruised along like a great white shark.
    When it finally parked, two large, brawny men wearing tight charcoal-gray suits, black shirts, and black ties climbed out. They gazed in all directions as they walked around the car and out to the sidewalk. One of them held his hands out and asked the group of onlookers to step back, while the other two flanked the passenger-side door of the vehicle.
    After a few moments, the back door on the passenger side opened again. A long, elegant leg—clad in a fishnet stocking and a tight black boot—emerged.
    Then a swish of a golden fur, trimmed with fluffy white stuff.
    Before the rest of the body appeared, Maggie had already guessed the identity of the mystery arrival.
    â€œTrina Hardwick. She knows how to make an entrance,” Lucy murmured.
    â€œYou’d think it was the red carpet at the Academy Awards,” Suzanne noted.
    â€œMaybe stars need to practice in out-of-town markets. The way they get the kinks out of Broadway shows?” Dana asked.
    Trina Hardwick, in all her glory, stepped out of the car and raised a slim arm above her head, waving to fans who greeted her with cheers and wolf whistles.
    She turned a few times, tossing a mane of thick, reddish-gold hair, as one hand pushed back her fur coat and rested on a lean hip, showing off her Barbie doll figure to full advantage. Long, slim legs, a tiny waist, and a full, bouncing bosom. She leaned against the limo in a sultry pose. Or maybe her boots were so high she needed the fender for balance. Either way, she twisted from side to side with a dazzling smile while fans and a few strangling reporters ran up to take photos.
    â€œShe is beautiful,” Lucy noted.
    â€œIf you like the obvious type,” Suzanne sneered.
    â€œAs in . . . obviously gorgeous bombshell?” Phoebe countered.
    â€œI’d text a picture to Matt, but I don’t want to give him any encouragement,” Lucy confessed. “That’s too much competition for me.”
    â€œMaybe . . . but do you think that’s all . . . real?” Phoebe raised a pierced eyebrow.
    â€œThe glossy mane is full of hair extensions. As for the rest, these are real . . . and I have the hips to prove it.” Suzanne looked down at her own chest. “Those things? I doubt it. Though I’m sure they’re the best set money can buy.”
    â€œSuzanne . . . you just can’t assume that,” Dana scolded her.
    â€œPhoebe asked a valid question and I’m answering with fact-based knowledge. First of all, no arm fat. And when she twists and turns, they’re still pointing straight ahead. No natural bounce and jiggle. Dead giveaway,” Suzanne added knowingly. “I bet if she laid down flat, it would look like two Tupperware bowls stuck under her dress.”
    â€œSuzanne . . .” Dana turned to her, shaking her head.