The Widows of Braxton County by Jess Mcconkey Read Free Book Online Page A

run, but as the days progressed, he accepted her presence and the treat as long as she stayed by the old maple. Delighted that Trudy and Joe were unaware of her rendezvous with the old tomcat, she adopted him as hers and looked forward to the day when she had finally earned his trust and could touch him.
    This morning after clearing the breakfast dishes, Trudy caught her off guard.
    “We’re going to town,” Trudy said abruptly.
    “Why?”
    “Groceries,” Trudy said, folding a dish towel and placing it neatly on the counter. “Joe has decided you’ve been working too hard and that it’s time for you to meet our neighbors. We’re having a barbecue on Saturday night.”
    Kate fought the urge to hug her. “A party!”
    “No, a simple barbeque.”
    “Great,” she said, grabbing her cell phone off the kitchen counter.
    “What are you doing?” Trudy asked, her voice heavy with suspicion.
    “I’m texting my girlfriend Lindsay. It’s short notice,” she said, her fingers flying across the keyboard, “but maybe she can come up for the party, err, excuse me, barbecue , then stay the weekend. It would be wonderful to see—”
    Trudy’s hand suddenly covered hers. “That’s not a good idea.”
    “Why?”
    “This get-together is for the neighbors. We don’t want to include a bunch of outsiders.”
    “But Lindsay is one of my oldest friends,” Kate argued.
    “And she would be uncomfortable thrust into the middle of a group of strangers.”
    “No, she wouldn’t. Lindsay loves—”
    “I said it’s not a good idea,” she reiterated. “You want to fit in around here, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” Kate mumbled.
    “Well then.” Trudy gave a satisfied nod. “You need to make new friends and not cling to your old life and old friends. And it would please Joe if you did.”
    Kate looked down at the half-written text message. There was a certain logic to what Trudy said. If Lindsay did come to the barbecue, Kate would feel obligated to entertain her and, as a result, might neglect the other guests. Reluctantly, she deleted the text.
    Trudy smiled, then let her attention wander the kitchen. “We’ve got a lot of work to do between now and then. This house is filthy.”
    From behind Trudy’s back, Kate rolled her eyes. They dusted and swept every day. Filth wouldn’t dare enter Trudy’s house.
    Trudy’s fingers began ticking off the tasks. “Wax the floors; dust upstairs and down; wash windows—” She paused. “We’d better make a few pies in case no one brings any desserts. And I’ll make potato salad,” she added, her lip curling. “Megan Scott will bring hers, but mine’s better. Then—”
    Kate didn’t wait to hear the rest of Trudy’s sentence. She ran upstairs and changed into a pair of Capris and a loose cotton shirt. After slipping on sandals, she grabbed the mascara out of her makeup bag and applied a couple of quick swipes to her eyelashes. Studying herself in the mirror, she frowned. How long had it been since she’d worn makeup? With a shake of her head, she twisted her hair into a loose topknot and secured it with bobby pins. One last glance in the mirror and she was out the door and down the stairs, where Trudy stood waiting for her.
    She looked Kate up and down. “Why are you all dolled up?”
    Kate’s hand plucked at her shirt. “I’m not,” she replied defensively. “I didn’t want to go to the store in my work clothes.”
    Trudy lifted an eyebrow as she turned on her heel and left Kate standing at the bottom of the stairs. She rushed to follow.
    Twenty minutes later, Kate was still following Trudy, pushing the cart up and down the grocery aisle while Trudy picked over the iceberg lettuce, squeezed the bread, and thumped the watermelons.
    The back of Kate’s neck began to tingle, and she glanced over her shoulder. Two women watched from the end of the frozen food aisle. Their carts close together, their eyes focused on Kate—and avid curiosity was written on their