Vicky Banning by Allen McGill Read Free Book Online Page B

feel protective towards them or of their privacy at least. It infuriates me when I hear them ridiculed.”
    Vicky scanned the panorama as Roger eased the car into a U-turn in the middle of the road. She felt a vague homesickness for the place, although she’d never been there before. The feeling wasn’t new, though; she’d experienced it often, in various parts of the world, and relished its mystery.
    “As for the hex signs,” Roger was saying, “some people claim that they’re just for decoration, paintings of birds and flowers, and the locals don’t discourage them. It’s mainly the tourists who romanticize them. Everyone loves a little bit of magic, don’t they?”
    “I didn’t know that about the hex signs,” Vicky said and smiled at him. “You see what you get for being interested in everything? You can learn lots of things, from lots of people. Well, where are we off to now?”
    Roger grinned without turning. “If you promise to be a good girl, I’ll take you to my place and introduce you to Muffin.”
    Vicky was delighted. “Sound like the best proposition I’ll have all day,” she said. “Of course, it isn’t
noon
yet.”
    * * * *
     
    Vicky hadn’t noticed the path until Roger turned onto it and she heard the crunch of gravel under the wheels. The house was completely hidden from the public road, barely visible through the trees and shrubbery from the private one. When a clearing opened before them, Roger circled a short, curving driveway to the entrance.
    “It’s charming,” Vicky exclaimed. “Like a gingerbread house…and I’m the wicked old witch come to corrupt young boys with my goodies.” She winked at him as she stepped from the car.
    A high-pitched yipping came from within the house, and Roger dashed to unlock the door. “Meet Muffin,” he announced, swinging it open.
    A gold and silver blur streaked through the door, emitting a series of shrill complaints and reproaches. Muffin spun around and around without seeming to touch the ground, then scrambled up to Roger’s knee, begging to be picked up.
    “Well, it’s obvious she’s not at all pleased to see you,” Vicky said with a laugh. “I can tell that you treat her just terribly. Why, she’s no bigger than a minute!” she added, watching the bundle of fur scurry over Roger’s shoulder when he raised her up.
    “Yeah, right,” Roger responded with his face full of kissing dog. “Dreadful beast; I can’t stand her at all.”
    “Can I hold her?”
    “She’s very shy, believe it or not,” Roger said, holding his tail-twitching parcel out toward her. “But if you don’t fuss at her, she’ll settle down.”
    Vicky received the wide-eyed bundle into her arms, the silky coat flowing over her hands and scratched her gently behind her ears. Two amber orbs looked up into hers, studying her from within a splay of golden hair. A pink tongue poked out from beneath a black-button nose to flick at Vicky’s chin.
    “You’ve passed muster,” Roger laughed. “She’s usually much more hesitant.”
    Vicky grinned. “Animals often have better taste than humans. I love Yorkies . They’re so tiny, but feisty as the devil.”
    “Her nickname is Raga,” Roger informed her and waited.
    Raga-Muffin ? Vicky thought, then turned to glance sideways at Roger with an “ oh, really” look. “That’s silly,” she said, but added, “I think I’m in love—twice in one day; I must be living right.”
    She let Muffin loose at the door and stepped across the threshold. The house was as tastefully decorated as Vicky had hoped it would be: straight lines, firm colors, and uncluttered with accumulations that time so often seemed to spawn. Best of all, it didn’t appear to be a decorator’s home at all.
    Breakfast dishes were still in the sink, one of the beds was unmade—a double bed, she noticed—and a cushion, probably Muffin’s, was lying on the floor between the sofa and the old, brick fireplace in the living room.
    It was a