Acts of Violets Read Online Free Page A

“I’m just feeling a little bummed.”
    “Abby saw Marco with another woman,” Nikki said, standing in the doorway with a cup and saucer in her hands.
    “A pretty woman,” I corrected her.
    “She had split ends,” Nikki whispered to Lotti, who merely clucked her tongue at me.
    “Sweetie, if you’re gonna get your nose bent out of shape every time you see your man jawin’ with a female, you’d better sign up for some plastic surgery.”
    That was one of the things I loved about Lottie. She didn’t mince words. She had a generous amount of what she called “Kentucky horse sense,” even if she did wear a bright pink satin barrette in the brassy curls above her left ear. Her philosophy on life was “Stuff happens, so suck it up.”
    “Now, there’s the guy you should go for.” Lottie pointed across the street to where deputy prosecutor Greg Morgan was giving an interview to a reporter and posing for the TV cameraman from WWIN, the local cable television station. “My, my. Isn’t he a looker?” Lottie heaved a wistful sigh.
    “And doesn’t he know it,” Nikki said with a snort.
    Lottie belived Greg Morgan was the handsomest man she’d ever seen, and that he and I were made for each other, even though I’d explained to her many times that Morgan gave new meaning to the term stuck on himself . In high school he’d kept a hand mirror, hair spray, and dental floss in his locker and had joined as many clubs as he could squeeze into his schedule so he could get his photo in the yearbook more times than anyone else.
    “Sweetie, all men are just big lumps of clay that you gotta mold into an acceptable form,” Lottie had once opined. “So why not start out with his form and see where it takes you?”
    “The only place it would take me,” I’d retorted, “is into therapy.”
    As if he could sense us watching, Morgan glanced over and waved. Lottie waved back, while Nikki ducked into the shop and I pretended not to see him. Naturally, he came striding over, flashing the hundred-watt smile that highlighted the blond glints in his chestnut hair and the sparkle in his angelic blue eyes.
    Morgan wasn’t tall—or all that smart—but he was always well dressed, which was probably why Lottie admired him so. If any of her boys were to show up wearing something other than ripped, baggy jeans, an old T-shirt, and laceless shoes, their hair sticking out at every angle, she would have called a press conference.
    Today Morgan was sporting a light blue denim shirt tucked into a pair of dark blue jeans with a crease carefully ironed into them. “Are you ladies enjoying the festival?”
    “We are now,” Lottie boomed in her big voice, nudging me. At that moment, three women came up to ask her advice on flowers, so she turned to wait on them, leaving me to handle The Ego alone.
    “Abby, I’m glad you spotted me,” he said. “How about being my date for the charity luncheon in the pickle tent? Proceeds are going to Haven for the Homeless, which I organized, FYI.”
    Ordinarily, a free lunch would be right up my alley, but I’d endured enough meals with Morgan to know that it was an experience I suffered if and when I needed information that only he could provide. Otherwise, I’d rather have an enormous water balloon fall on my head. Repeatedly.
    “Thanks, Greg,” I said, trying to look both admiring and regretful, “but my parents came downtown for the festival and I’d hate to abandon them. They’ve been looking forward to spending some quality time with me.”
    At that moment, my mother breezed through the open doorway, pushing my dad, and called, “We’re off to the booths, Abigail. See you later.”
    Feeling Morgan’s gaze on my face, I blinked rapidly, trying to fire my brain cells into action, because the only thing I could think to do now was run away, and I was a little too old for that. I glanced at Lottie for help, but she was still talking to the three women.
    “Coffee break is over, Abs,”