Threading the Needle by Marie Bostwick Read Free Book Online Page A

prison. . . .”

    â€œOne hundred years,” Lee said as he sopped up a drizzle of syrup with a fork full of pancakes. “Two hundred would be better. Sterling Baron? He’s married to that friend of yours, right?”
    â€œFormer friend,” I corrected him. “I haven’t seen Madelyn since high school. I wonder how she’s faring in all this.”
    Lee wiped his mouth with his napkin and got up from the table. “Fine, I’m sure. The rich get richer. They always do.”
    â€œThe news said that the government had seized all their assets and she had to move out of her apartment. Nobody seems to know where she went.”
    Lee pulled out my chair for me. “She’s probably flown off to Switzerland or the Caymans to cash out her offshore accounts and live in style far from the reach of the feds, someplace a million miles from New Bern.”

3
    Madelyn
    T he Realtor, Wendy Perkins, who apparently didn’t know that rhinestone eyeglasses went out of style in 1968, offered to give me a tour of Beecher Cottage.
    â€œIt’s got a few quirks,” she said. “And a lot of deferred maintenance. The back door sticks. You’ve got to kick it hard on the bottom before you can lock it. The powder room is tucked under the main staircase. You’d think it was a closet if you didn’t know better, and the hot and cold water is mixed up on the faucets.”
    â€œI know. My grandfather made a mistake when he was connecting the pipes and never fixed it. Don’t worry,” I said, taking the house keys from her outstretched hand. “I know every inch of the place. I spent ten years of my life there.”
    Wendy furrowed her brow, making her sparkly eyeglasses ride higher on the bridge of her nose. “That was before I came to town. But I knew your grandma. So funny that Edna never mentioned you.”
    I murmured noncommittally. I wasn’t surprised in the least.
    When I left New Bern, Edna said I was as good as dead to her. She was a woman of her word. From that day forward, I’m confident she never uttered my name again. In my current circumstances, it was for the best. Wendy didn’t recognize me, either as Edna Beecher’s granddaughter or as Sterling Baron’s wife. With luck, neither would anyone else—at least for a while.
    I’d resigned myself to the necessity of returning to New Bern, but I didn’t plan to stay there one moment longer than I had to. At the first sign the housing market was improving, I’d sell the house and move somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t New Bern.
    In the meantime, my plan was to lie low and avoid attracting any attention to myself. People were bound to discover my connection to Sterling eventually. But by the time they did, I hoped Beecher Cottage would have a new owner and I’d be long gone. By then, maybe I actually would be Madelyn Beecher again.
    Had it been possible, I’d have severed my ties with Sterling and the Baron name legally, permanently, and immediately. I should have divorced Sterling years before; heaven knew I had every reason to. His womanizing was legendary.
    Sterling wasn’t committed to the marriage, but the image it projected to the world suited his purposes and fed his ego. Sterling was having his cake and eating it, too, taking me with him to Broadway premieres and charity galas, smiling as we posed for the cameras, then sneaking away after for a late-night rendezvous with his blonde of the moment. Why would he want a divorce?
    Why would I? Until recently, Sterling had been too rich to divorce. Yes, his serial unfaithfulness humiliated me, but you’d be surprised what you can learn to put up with when the price of humiliation is a lifestyle that, once upon a time, I hardly dared dream of—vacations to Tahiti on private islands, beachfront property in the Hamptons, a penthouse, a maid, a cook, a personal secretary, trips to Paris to view the spring