Cupid's Confederates Read Online Free Page A

full of leisure time, but minutes had to count in August.
    “It’s your mother.”
    Zach watched his wife’s face instantly change from serene, satisfied weariness to taut stress as she lurched up to reach for the phone.
    “Mom? How are you?” Unconsciously, Bett pushed back her cloud of yellow hair, jerked off the couch like the coil of a spring and started winding and rewinding the phone cord around her finger.
    Zach began piling empty plates on the tray, resisting the urge to clatter them together. Bett had always called her mother at least weekly; lately, Elizabeth had taken to calling every other day. Zach was fond of his mother-in-law and certainly felt sympathy for her trouble adjusting since Chet’s death. But that sympathy had been gradually eroding away for months. Bett was torn apart every time the phone rang.
    “Stop crying.” Bett’s gentle voice was laced with anxiety. “Mom, you can’t keep doing this. It’s been well over a year. Did you get involved with that women’s club you said you were going to join?”
    Silently, Zach carted the trays to the kitchen. By the time he’d taken care of the few dishes, Bett had the phone cord wrapped around her waist and one slim hand was raking through her hair. She was facing away from him as he stood in the doorway. Her spine was as taut as a violin string, and when she half turned again her eyes were tightly closed.
    “Mom, I know the house has memories for you. Have you even asked Martha if she wanted to move in with you? Since her husband died, she’s had the same problem sleeping nights, hasn’t she?” Bett twisted the cord around and around her finger until her finger turned white from lack of circulation, then uncoiled it impatiently. “No, of course I’m not saying you should sell the house if you don’t want to. It’s just that if staying there is still making you unhappy after all this time…”
    Zach set a glass of sun tea on the coffee table for Bett, and carried his own over to the fieldstone fireplace. He leaned back against the rough stone, staring outside at the last of the sunset.
    Bett rubbed her temple with two fingers, denting the soft flesh and making white marks. “ Mom. Please, please, just tell me what you want me to do! Do you want me to come for a couple of days? Do you want me to pack the things up and sell the house for you? I’ll do whatever you want; you must know that. You just have to tell me what you want. Mom, this has to stop—” Bett could feel her eyes filling up with ridiculous, overemotional tears.
    Zach’s tea glass clattered down on the mantel. In four long strides, he reached her, untangled enough of the phone cord to claim the phone and all but jammed the receiver against his ear.
    “Liz? This is Zach. Your daughter’s in trouble.” The words, however impromptu, were calculated to bring an instant cessation of feminine tears at the other end. They worked. Bett was staring up at him blankly, her lips parted in shock. He unwrapped the phone cord from around her and, with a brusque motion of his hand, urged her to sit on the couch. He kept on talking. “What would you say to coming to stay with us for a while? Bett’s got so much to do she’s running herself down… Yes, I know, but then she wouldn’t ask for help if she were sitting in the middle of a flood; we both know that… I don’t know. Does it matter? Why don’t you just pack a suitcase and close up the house, and we’ll worry about the how-long of it another time. No, Liz. We are not thinking about selling the farm and going sane again.”
    He had to listen to something or other about the care of her dahlias before she agreed to come. Used to Elizabeth, he paid no attention. But when he hung up the phone, Bett was standing in the middle of the room with her arms wrapped around her chest. Her small spray of tears had dried. Zach sighed, calmly walking over to her and brushing back her silky hair with gentle fingers. “You’ve wanted