A Keeper's Truth Read Online Free Page A

fever over a hundred and four, and I panicked. Meyer thought I was
being silly, that Grams had it under control and Abby would be fine. But I
couldn’t stand it, not knowing, being so far away. What if Abby needed me? What
if she felt alone or scared? I was home nearly twenty minutes before I realized
I’d left Meyer at the gallery.
    “Bryce
didn’t know about Meyer’s car accident.” Karen stares at the sponge-like
substance sprouting around her ankles, and Romi ,
thinking it’s her cue, lifts Karen’s feet out and wraps them with a towel. “I’m
sorry,” Karen mumbles.
    So am I.
    “Come to
the party with me.” Karen pouts like a kid who’s about to lose the battle after
giving it all she’s got. “Please. Frank won’t go, and I need a wingman.”
    Romi taps my
leg, drawing my attention. She’s painted my toenails red.
    “It’s the
color of exuberance, fun, and seduction,” Karen purrs. “The perfect color to
move you forward.”
    I let
Karen bask in her theory. It’s the least I can do since she’ll be flying solo
at the party. With any luck she’ll get sidetracked before we head next door for
tea and I can forget about this entire conversation. I grab my purse and slide
my feet into sandals, trying not to ruin Romi’s paint
job.
    I picked red
because it reminds me of autumn, my favorite season.
    And for
some reason I don’t care to think about, Bryce Waters.

 
 
    We fumble
next door: me walking awkwardly in flip-flops, Karen’s
three-inch heels getting stuck between stones. The pilfered magazine burns hot
in my pocket. It’s been years since I swiped something, but old habits don’t
die. And I couldn’t leave it to rot with the likes of beauty tips and greasy
oils. I need to read more.
    The café
is quite large, in the shape of a giant L. The smaller section up front has a
set of glass showcases displaying pastries and baked goods. The smell of almond
and custard sweetens the air. Massive chalkboards hang from the ceiling by
chains. The bulk of the place is a stretch of street-facing windows featuring floating
tables with backless stools. The sun is bright, setting patrons aglow. Wobbling
to the end of the café line, I scan the signage for something good. There is an
endless list of organic white teas and natural lattes. Not sure what makes a
latte “natural,” but what I really want is a drink, something strong or
straight up.
    Did I
mention old habits?
    Karen
nudges me. “I actually saw Bryce with Sonia a few weeks ago, at the Olive Twist
next door. My sister and I were having dinner with the kids, and Sonia was at
the bar, hanging all over him.”
    I sigh. I
can’t help it. “I care because . . .?”
    “It’s a
big deal. Well, sort of. It could be. The police don’t think it’s a big deal,
but you never know. You gotta report this stuff,
right?”
    Karen
picks a long silver hair off the jacket of the lady in front of us in line, and
the woman turns and glares.
    “You
talked to the police? Why? And who the hell is Sonia?” I ask, peeking at my
cell. I can’t be late getting Abby from school. Karen’s kids are older and
don’t need to be walked home. Two are in high school, Frank’s from a previous
marriage, and one is in her last year at Carlisle Elementary.
    Karen
glares at me. “You really need to get your head out of your ass,” she says,
shaking her head. “Do you not watch the news? There are posters at the school.”
She notices I’m not getting it. “Sonia, you know, the blonde bombshell with the
two-inch waist. My neighbor’s daughter.”
    I don’t
know anyone named Sonia. I step to the counter and order a decaf tea and bran
muffin then turn back to Karen. “I thought your neighbor was the old guy with
the blind parrot.”
    “The other
neighbor,” she hisses.
    Karen
orders a double latte with extra skim milk, heavy on the foam, three sugars,
and two lids.
    I shake my
head. “Two lids? Really?”
    “Burns my
lips,” she says, smacking her lips. She