Gone With a Handsomer Man Read Online Free

But you don’t have formal training. Charleston used to have a chef school, you know. The town is filled with degreed chefs.”
    “I’ve got a savings account,” I said. But I only had a few thousand dollars; I’d been putting back money for a Jamaica honeymoon, hoping to surprise Bing, but tra la la, he’d surprised me.
    “Look, you’re tired,” Miss Dora said. “Let’s call it a night. Bing’s nursing his wounds. He won’t know you’re here. Just go inside and fix yourself a cup of tea. Elmer’s only been dead a few weeks. The kitchen is stocked with basics—you might have to buy milk and eggs. But other than that, you’re set.”
    A cup of tea did sound nice. But everything else felt wrong. She reached around me and opened my door. “If Bing lets you stay—and I’ll talk to him—you won’t have to dip into your savings. If the roof leaks, just call a repairman and send the bill to Quentin Underhill. He’s a lawyer, but he takes care of the Spencer-Jackson.”
    She pushed the pink tassel into my hand. “The alarm code is Bing’s birth date.”
    “What if I break something?” I looked up at the house. It was so pink, it made my head hurt. It was real pain, like when ice cold strawberry sorbet hits the roof of your mouth.
    “Teeny, the only thing you’re breaking is my heart,” Miss Dora said. “Listen, if you need me, I’m only a few blocks away. The house looks imposing, but it’s down-to-earth. Really. Think of it as a beautiful lady who’s had a difficult life. Once, she was a gorgeous debutante. But she fell into ruin, maybe prostitution, and people deserted her. Now, look—she’s Botoxed, lifted, tucked, and filled with collagen. Why, she’s a symbol for us all. Isn’t she?”
    I couldn’t argue with that. As I climbed out of the car, a ship’s horn blew and I stumbled backward. Miss Dora leaned across the seat. “Think of it as an opportunity. Why, people would give their eyeteeth to live south of Broad. Now, dry your tears, darlin’. Go forth and carpe diem a little.”

five
    The stench of gasoline and brackish water blew around me as I watched Miss Dora’s taillights move toward the Battery. I hated to see her go. If I’d had cash or credit cards, I would have walked to a hotel. But I couldn’t loiter on the sidewalk because those joggers were coming back, and a police car was right behind them.
    I unlocked the iron gate and stepped into the narrow brick corridor. Three gas lanterns flickered against the wall, shadows pooling between them. The wind shifted, carrying delicate fragrances: lemon balm, camellias, sweet almond, and fresh cut grass. The joggers ran by the gate, and I flattened myself against the wall. The police car inched down the street. Then it passed.
    My footsteps clapped over the bricks as I passed by long shuttered windows and potted ferns. Most houses on Rainbow Row had two front doors—one at the street, which was meant to keep out the riffraff, and one inside the breezeway. A gray door was on my left, framed by two concrete cherubs. I unlocked it and went inside.
    Shrill beeps rose up. If I didn’t locate the alarm box and punch in the code, the police would come back. I groped for the light switch, found a panel of them, and hit each one. Light blazed from a three-tiered crystal chandelier and filled the hall with a cozy glow. But the alarm kept beeping. I saw a box next to the door. I punched in the numbers and the noise stopped.
    My footsteps echoed as I walked to an oval staircase. Paintings of angry-looking women stared down, silently warning me not to touch anything. I’d never seen this much finery, not even at Miss Dora’s home, and it scared me.
    I stopped in front of a table and dropped the tasseled key chain into a crystal bowl. A piece of glass chipped off and skittered to the floor. I leaned over to examine the bowl. Waterford. I’d been in the house three minutes, and I’d already damaged a priceless artifact.
    A sick feeling came