Thistle Down by Irene Radford Read Free Book Online Page A

Dick to do with your time? I’ll email you the recipe for those shortbread cookies . . .”
    “No. I can’t eat white flour or processed sugar. I will not bake for your tour, nor will I cancel several meetings and appointments to be there. You will just have to do without stopping at the house. You can admire the gardens from the street.”
    “But your mother always . . .”
    “I am not my mother.” This time Dusty hung up first.
    Hands shaking as much as her middle, she made a note to make sure Dick mowed the lawn.
    Her lunch wanted to come up. She wished now she hadn’t eaten the second half of the chicken salad on homemade whole wheat bread. She’d eaten no red meat and only organic fruits and vegetables, free-range chicken, or wild-caught fish for so long she didn’t think she could digest anything else. But today, even her wholesome diet felt like a lump of processed glue.
    She needed a long walk in the fresh air. But the emails for the coming week of festivities kept piling up.
    The phone rang again.
    “Damn.” Dusty stared at the malevolent tool of society. She blushed at her own bad language. Thought a moment. “Double damn. Skene County Historical Society,” she answered sweetly.
    “Desdemona, why didn’t you answer your cell phone? I’ve left several messages today.” Her mother’s voice sounded fuzzy over the long-distance connection.
    “Sorry, Mom. I turned it off while I was doing a tour. We’re very busy to today with the start of Festival and all.” Dusty pulled her phone out of her pocket and flicked on the power. Sure enough there was one, and only one, message from an unknown overseas prefix.
    “Oh, well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you made time to go to the Health Food Market. You can’t trust the local grocer to have truly organic food. And the farmers’ market isn’t much better. They say they use natural fertilizers, but you never know. And did you find the bottle of hand sanitizer in the back of the pantry? It’s not as good as soap and water, but in an emergency . . .”
    “Yes, Mom. Dick went to the store on Monday.” She crossed her fingers at the little lie. She’d bought organic foods from the local farmers’ market last Saturday and found they tasted no different and felt no different from the more expensive specialty market. “I know where the hand sanitizer is. Now I really have to go. We’re very busy . . .”
    “Of course. Just checking. See you in a couple of weeks. Oh, and my college roommate’s son will call you. He wants to escort you to the Ball . . .” The rest of her words dissolved in static. She dropped the receiver into its cradle.
    Dusty breathed heavily and resisted the urge to run to the basement. She really did need to tackle some of those emails. But the privacy she craved wasn’t about to happen in Joe’s office. Was Norton’s Family Diner any less private than this! Everyone in town ended up there at some point in the day, even if only for coffee on the run.
    “Can I talk to you a minute, Dusty?” Meggie opened the door a crack and spoke meekly.
    “Um, I have twenty-seven, no make that thirty-one emails to answer.” Dusty bit her lower lip.
    “This will only take a minute.” Meggie squeezed into the office, keeping the door closed as much as possible. She kept looking over her shoulder as if needing to keep this visit secret.
    Curiosity replaced Dusty’s annoyance at the invasion of her space.
    “What’s up, Meggie?” Dusty leaned forward, forearms braced on the desk. “This hesitancy isn’t like you.”
    “I know. It’s just that . . . just that I need some advice and you’re a friend.”
    “Huh?”
    “Look, I know I don’t usually bother you with this kind of thing, but . . . but you see, there’s this guy. This guy from school. He’s really cute and everything. We could have true Pixie love, I think . . .” She trailed off, looking as puzzled as Dusty felt.
    “And you’re asking me for advice,