Lie in Plain Sight Read Online Free

fifteen minutes with two minutes to spare.
    The baby, despite the noise and raucous laughter of the railroad guys, had fallen asleep in his stroller, his thumb hanging limply between his lips. He was named after Maeve’s father, a secret she had to keep; Jo’s devoutly Jewish mother thought that he had been named after a deceased relative.
    After they cleared the store of customers, Maeve and Jo took seats across from each other at one of the café tables where customers sat who wanted to eat in. Jo lifted the lid from her coffee cup and took a long sip. “Oh, hiya, Evelyn,” Jo said, noticing Maeve’s sister behind the quiche case. She was shorter than Maeve by a few inches, a tiny sprite of a woman.
    â€œHi, Jo,” Evelyn said. “I love your baby,” she said, as she did every time she saw Jo and her son.
    â€œThanks,” Jo said. “How are things at home?”
    Maeve appreciated that Jo treated Evelyn like anyone else, not falling into the trap of speaking loudly and slowly to the woman. She was challenged, yes, but not deaf. Evelyn smiled, happy to be part of the conversation. “My friend Debbie is going to a wedding this weekend! She’s wearing a sparkly dress!”
    â€œThat’s fantastic!” Jo said, keeping up the conversation until it was clear that Evelyn was done talking about Debbie and her dress.
    Maeve took in the dark circles under her friend’s eyes. “Baby not sleeping again?” she asked.
    â€œIt’s been a rough week,” Jo said. “Just when it seems like we’ll get a solid eight hours, he starts with the feeding-every-hour bullshit.” She clapped her hands over her mouth when Evelyn admonished her for cursing.
    â€œYou know what I say, right?” Maeve asked.
    â€œYes. Let him cry.” Jo had heard Maeve’s thoughts on getting a baby to sleep a thousand times, or so it seemed. “I just can’t do it.”
    Maeve understood. She had been much more agreeable about feeding Rebecca all night, her first, than Heather, her second. Maybe that was why Heather was such a crab all the time. Too much crying and not enough breastfeeding as a baby. Maeve knew one thing: It was always the mother’s fault, no matter what happened, no matter that Cal had been the biggest “let her cry” proponent in the house. No one would ever know that because to the outside world, he was a doting father, along with being a cheating husband, two things that hadn’t changed.
    Jo looked over at the baby. “He’s a good baby, though. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
    â€œI know he is, Jo,” Maeve said. She hoped she could get a few minutes with Jo; between the baby taking up all of Jo’s time and the business taking up all of hers, they rarely had more than a few minutes to catch up.
    Evelyn asked Maeve if she could have a muffin. “Sure, honey. Eat it in the kitchen, okay?” she said. She watched her sister go into the kitchen and then turned back to Jo. “So, what’s going on? Besides Jack, the sleepless wonder over there?”
    Jo had dirt. Gossip. The straight skinny. Maeve could tell by the way her face brightened at the thought of spilling some juicy tidbit about someone in Farringville, most likely someone Maeve didn’t know, knew tangentially, or didn’t care about at all. Still, it gave Jo a thrill to be in possession of village intel, and Maeve was happy to hear it, if only to offer a diversion from the occasional drudgery of the bakery.
    â€œWant to hear this one?” Jo asked, amping up the drama. “This is a good one. Better than you’ll hear from anyone else.”
    Maeve hadn’t seen Jo this excited about a juicy, gossipy morsel in a long time. And who didn’t love a good piece of gossip? Maeve had to admit that she did and felt just the slightest pang of guilt over it, barely enough to notice. “Sure. What is it?” Maeve