Mad as Helen Read Online Free

peers snubbing her all the while. Max had been the one to suggest getting out of the city entirely. Yes, it had been her dear husband’s idea to try her luck in a town outside St. Louis that wasn’t already overflowing with enough psychs to populate a small country. It was only after she’d taken the plunge and set up her practice in picturesque River Bend that she’d understood darling Max’s reasons for wanting her out of the city: he’d been sleeping with one of the salesgirls at his sporting goods store. Grace had confronted him about the affair, and Max hadn’t even denied it. She’d kicked him out pronto, she recalled, though the memory of it was less than fond.
    She shifted in her chair and sniffled.
    Max had popped into River Bend once or twice since their separation, acting forlorn and trying to woo her back, but Grace had fought the stubborn feelings that remained. Grace Simpson was nobody’s patsy. She had no intentions of delaying the divorce any longer. God knows, she’d never take him back, especially not now, when she had her future by the balls. Max would just have to keep banging his salesgirls and muddling along without her.
    Grace sighed and fixed her eyes on the manuscript again.
    Well, she did have one reason to be grateful to her almost-ex-hubby. River Bend had turned out to be more of a gold mine than she’d ever imagined. The tiny town was chockfull of well-heeled widows and retirees, their plump nest eggs ripe for the picking. And that didn’t include the towns around it, like Jerseyville, big enough to have a country club, a main drag lined with fast-food joints, and the ever-present Walmart; Alton, far more populated still, with enough car dealerships to make Detroit proud; and cozy Grafton up the road, with its adorable winery, restaurants, and bluff homes with river views. Grace had handed her cards out right and left, at hospitals and nursing homes, at bingo games and bridge tournaments, until she’d reeled in enough messed-up lives to fill her practice to the hilt.
    Even still, she wasn’t taken seriously by her big-city colleagues. River Bend might be picturesque, but it was in the boonies, nonetheless. Her clients were practically Hoosiers, for want of a better description.
    Grace let out a loud snort.
    The very first thing she’d do when her book was published and the recognition started pouring in was set up an office somewhere else, like Chicago or, better still, New York.
    Ah, yes, Manhattan, Grace mused with a self-satisfied smile. Now, that was a place full of bona fide loony tunes, enough to provide juicy revelations for not just one measly book but a flipping encyclopedia!
    Then everyone would know what Grace Simpson was made of. The professional journals that kept turning down her articles, the leaders of the conferences that kept declining her offers to speak, the snooty members of the Psychotherapy Society who considered her a failure: she’d show them all, wouldn’t she?
    Grace picked up the expandable envelope containing her manuscript and hugged it as if it were a life raft, which, in a way, it was.

 
    Chapter 4
    H ELEN DUCKED OUT of LaVyrle’s Cut ’n’ Curl and took a slow drag of fresh air, her lungs so full of hairspray that she felt buzzed. She bent her head to tuck her wallet into her purse and didn’t see the woman coming at her down the sidewalk—not until their arms bumped, jostling Helen so that she dropped her handbag to her feet, scattering its contents.
    The woman let out a surprised “oh,” as a large tote bag fell from her arms, spilling out a host of legal pads, which sprawled across the sidewalk, yellow pages fluttering in the breeze.
    “I’m so sorry,” they both said at once, “I didn’t see you!”
    As Helen stooped to recover her pocketbook, the other woman crouched to help, and Helen realized she was looking into the tousled hair and flushed face of her granddaughter.
    “Helen, Nancy? Everything all right?” a voice boomed