The Sweetheart Secret by Shirley Jump Read Free Book Online Page A

with the column, if only because it provided a ready excuse for some meddling—well-meaning, of course. That gave her another reason to get out of bed in the morning, and at Greta’s age, sometimes that required the addition of a good shove and an industrial crane.
    â€œI don’t see a secret spouse letter,” Pauline said. “I have a woman secretly in love with her irritating neighbor. What about that?”
    Greta yanked the paper out of Pauline’s scrawny hand. “That would only give other people ideas.”
    â€œLike the idea that
you
wrote it?” Pauline grinned.
    â€œLord, no.” Greta put up her hands to ward off the idea. “Why would I write such a thing?”
    â€œWho would Greta be secretly in love with?” Esther asked.
    Pauline rolled her eyes. “Esther, you really need to pay more attention.”
    â€œI can’t. I’m knitting. There’s a lot of counting involved. Or Rooney will end up with one leg longer than the other.”
    Pauline looked at Greta. “Rooney?”
    â€œDon’t ask. Trust me, you don’t want to know.” Greta shook her head. One of the waitstaff came over with a trio of coffee mugs, deposited them in front of the ladies, then left. As soon as the nurses weren’t looking, Greta tugged the bottle of Maker’s Mark out of her pocket, unscrewed the top, and added a little sweetness to her coffee. Esther tsk-tsked. Pauline bit back a laugh.
    Greta ignored them both. Her daddy had started every day with a little shot of the hard stuff, and he’d lived to ninety-seven, which made all the case Greta needed for her morning Maker’s Mark. Clearly, there were some things about longevity that Doc Harper didn’t know. “Before we get to our next letter, I think we need to discuss our next mission.”
    â€œMission? That sounds dangerous,” Esther said. “I’m too old for dangerous.”
    â€œYou are also too old for a stuffed dog, but that sure as sunshine isn’t stopping you today.”
    Esther stuck out her tongue at Greta, then went back to work on Frankenpup. Pauline mouthed
stuffed dog
? Greta just shook her head. Esther was a hopeless case when it came to crafts. The only plus to Esther’s knitting frenzy was that she’d forgotten all about her quilting fetish. Which kept Greta from having to pretend she liked quilting just so she could sit at quilting club and drink bourbon.
    â€œWe have a new resident in Rescue Bay,” Greta began. “And I’m thinking she should be our next project.”
    â€œWait. I thought we were looking for a mission.” Esther blinked. “Now we have a project, too? I have my hands full of projects, if you need one, Greta. Why there’s a cross-stitch I started back in 1982 that—”
    â€œMission. Project. Same thing. And the day I do cross-stitch is the day you shoot me in the head, Esther.”
    â€œI thought you said that about the day you kiss Harold Twohig.” Pauline gave Greta a grin.
    Greta’s cheeks flamed. She pressed a palm to her stomach. Just the thought of that man made her inner workings churn like a lethal case of indigestion. Okay, yes, maybe they had shared a single, solitary,
almost
kiss. Thankfully thwarted at the last second by Greta’s quick thinking. Didn’t change a thing about how she despised Harold Twohig and his overzealous stalking. Even if he did seem to be growing on her, like invasive ivy on a brick facade. “You have a way of making even my morning coffee taste horrible, Pauline.”
    Pauline’s gaze narrowed. “I’ll bet dollars to donuts that you have an ulterior motive in this little project.”
    â€œMy only ulterior motive is to keep our little local economy rolling along. I’m just doing my part.”
    Pauline snorted, a sound that was just south of a curse. “Okay, so what’s your mission? And how exactly does it help