Till Death Do Us Purl by Anne Canadeo Read Free Book Online Page A

club, mainly for Jack’s law practice and because he was such an intense golfer. Dana was not at all the clubby type but she enjoyed playing tennis and acting out in subtly irreverent ways there.
    Lucy wondered how long the ride would take, when Maggie suddenly slowed down for a traffic jam. Cars—most of them luxury models—sat bumper to bumper on the otherwise deserted road.
    “The entrance to the estate must be up ahead. I guess we can just follow this line of cars inside,” Maggie said.
    Maggie merged her car with the lineof Mercedes, Jaguars, and BMWs. Then turned through high, wrought-iron gates. Two bulky men, who must have been security guards, Lucy realized, peered into each vehicle. They wore orange traffic vests over tuxedos and waved large yellow flashlights.
    Maggie’s little green Subaru was waved right through and followed the procession down a woodsy road that twisted and turned and seemed to go on forever.
    “My word . . .” Maggie said quietly. “Does anyone remember the opening scene to Rebecca ?”
    Lucy did remember it, but Phoebe spoke up first. “‘Last night, I dreamt I was at Manderley,’” she offered in an eerie, uncanny Joan Fontaine voice.
    “Bravo, Phoebe,” Lucy leaned over and patted Phoebe’s bony shoulder. “I was thinking the very same thing. I just didn’t want to say it,” Lucy admitted. “Didn’t Laurence Olivier have a crazy wife locked up in the attic? And she sets the place on fire?”
    “You’re thinking of Jane Eyre, ” Dana recalled. “In Rebecca, the second wife thinks he’s obsessed with the first wife’s memory and still in love with her. But he actually murdered her . . . right?”
    Before anyone could confirm that version, Maggie sighed out loud.
    “Oh, dear . . . can we talk about something more cheerful? It is Rebecca’s wedding day. I didn’t mean to get you all started down that dark Gothic road . . .”
    “There’s something more cheerful. Look, it’s Suzanne . . .” Dana turned and pointed out her window. “And she’s not wearing black.”
    Suzanne was not wearingblack—or anything close to it. Dressed to impress in a fuchsia silk suit and spiky, patent leather heels, she wiggled down from the driver’s seat of her huge SUV and dropped to the ground like a Navy SEAL on cocktail party patrol.
    “Wow, she looks hot . . . for a mother of three.” Phoebe’s mouth hung open.
    “Phoebe . . . please.” Maggie rolled her eyes.
    “Well, she does,” Phoebe said innocently.
    She did indeed. And seemed to be enjoying every minute of it. The four women piled out of Maggie’s car and joined her in the middle of the stone courtyard, beside a large fountain.
    “Guess I didn’t get the memo.” Suzanne laughed, looking them over. “My little black dress is at the cleaner’s anyway.”
    “You look like the lead singer of a girl group. And we look like the backup,” Phoebe observed.
    “Ladies, please . . . Let’s go in and find a seat, shall we?” Maggie moved them along, like a border collie, nipping at their high heels.
    They had driven into a large courtyard where valets collected cars and whisked them away . . . to who knew where, Lucy wondered. Water splashed down from a large round fountain and low lights in glass lanterns were just starting to glow.
    The vast brick colonial manor house was built in the English style, complete with glossy black shutters, a slate roof, several chimneys, and long white columns. Thick ivy vines crept up the sun-faded brick facade.
    At the stone entryway, two large black marble statues of mastiffs flanked the arching doorway. Phoebe reached out and patted one on the head. She waswearing a pair of black fingerless gloves she’d knit for herself.
    “Nice doggie. Stay . . .”
    Dana gently pulled her hand away. “Look but don’t touch, remember?”
    Another bulky, tuxedoed man who stood at the threshold cast a stern expression their way. Luckily the crowd pushed them along into a large foyer before he