Cruel as the Grave Read Online Free Page A

overwhelmed by all this.
    Then she took another look at Harold’s hurt face, and she felt ashamed of herself. This wasn’t his fault, she reminded herself sharply, and she smiled a rueful apology. His face clearing rapidly, he smiled back.
    She studied him and her two great-aunts covertly. The resemblance ran strong among these three McLendon siblings. Retty and Harold were about the same height, a flat six feet like Maggie, and Harold had the same thick gray hair which graced his sisters’ heads. They were decidedly a handsome family. Not to mention a bit on the intimidating side, all together like this.
    The final occupant of the room had moved forward to offer her greetings. “I’m Sylvia Butler,” she said shyly to Gerard, who clasped her proffered hand and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
    “Sylvia, I’d never have recognized you,” he said.
    “Of course not,” Retty complained. “You haven’t been here in twenty-five years. No way you could recognize the girl. She was only a child the last time you were here.”
    “At least,” Gerard said, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “she doesn’t take after her grandmother, thank the Lord. She’s quite lovely.”
    “My granddaughter,” Retty said, ignoring Gerard, as Maggie held out a hand to her cousin. Sylvia shook her hand, smiling.
    Sylvia’s face seemed vaguely familiar to Maggie, who struggled to place it in her recollections. Shining dark hair framed a lovely oval face. Maggie envied her cousin her luminescent skin and the expression of calm which had now replaced her momentarily nervousness as she resumed her seat.
    That’s it! Maggie thought. Sylvia looks like a Renaissance Madonna. Her face had that same quality of ethereal repose which had made Maggie so fond of Renaissance pietistic art.
    No one would accuse Sylvia’s grandmother of looking either pious or calm. Retty’s sharp tongue had already put Maggie a bit on edge.
    “Well, why don’t we all sit down,” Helena chirped into the uneasy silence which had suddenly befallen the group.
    She suited action to words by plumping herself down on one of the three sofas which stood at the center of the large room. The sofas formed a cozy C-shaped area around a small table holding an extravagant arrangement of magnolia blossoms made of porcelain. There were chairs and small tables scattered throughout the rest of the room, affording small pockets of isolated intimacy should anyone choose to move from the forced conviviality of the room’s center.
    They all quickly followed Helena’s example. Maggie sat beside Helena on one sofa, while Harold and Sylvia sat down across from them. Retty motioned for Gerard to sit beside her on the sofa which served as the crosspiece of the grouping. Maggie privately dubbed it the Queen Bee’s Throne, smiling inwardly.
    “We’re only going to sit for a few minutes,” Retty announced, “because lunch will be ready any moment. It’s a little later than we’re accustomed to, but just this once we thought we’d deviate from the routine, since you decided to grace us with your presence today.”
    “Thank you,” Gerard responded drily. “We all know how you adore your routine.” He threw up his hands in mock dismay. “I did my best with the airline schedules, but apparently they weren’t aware of your schedule, Retty. Perhaps you should let them know, for future reference.”
    Maggie again gaped at her father. Did he and his aunt carry on all their conversations like this? she wondered. There was a vein of humor in his riposte, but there was no mistaking the hostility.
    “I daresay I’m predictable,” Retty acknowledged, “but who else is going to keep this madhouse running the way it should?” She glared pointedly at Helena. “No one else in this room, I can tell you that! And certainly not those who’ve abandoned their responsibilities to the family.”
    Everyone else laughed politely at this little exchange, but Maggie felt increasingly uneasy.