Merry Wives of Maggody Read Online Free Page A

along with some golfers from Little Rock, Dallas, and Memphis. The prize for a hole-in-one is an expensive fishing boat. If you win it, we can sell it and get enough for you to go to more tournaments. As it is, I can barely pay the rent.”
    “You want me to blow my amateur status?”
    Kathleen Wasson carried the bundle of clothes to the doorway. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. It’s not too late to play a few holes at the public course. You wouldn’t want to lose to Natalie, would you?”
    Kyle did want to lose to Natalie. He wanted to lose his virginity to her in the moonlight, on a soft blanket, with birds singing from the treetops. He rolled over and recast his fantasy.
    • • •
    Natalie was losing to Janna Coulter, who was thudding around the apartment in a worn gray sweatsuit. She reminded Natalie of a rogue elephant in search of a village to devastate. “I don’t want to go running today, okay? I must have run like fifty miles this week. I want to go out to the pool, drink a soda, and read a magazine that’s about clothes, not about friggin’ golf.”
    “Stop sniveling,” Janna said. “We’ve been over this so many times that I’m about to throw up. Right now you have the potential to burst into the LPGA after a win at the U.S. Women’s Amateur. That means endorsements, which translate to millions of dollars. You’re young, beautiful, and one of the best female golfers in the state. The media will fawn all over you, as long as you maintain your reputation as an innocent young lady. Those college kids by the pool have cell phones with cameras. One photo of you swilling beer and your reputation will sink to the deep end of the pool and get stuck in the drain.”
    “Don’t treat me like a child. I am so sick of being ordered around by a middle-aged ex-army sergeant with the body of a bag of turnips! You may be twenty-five years older than me, but you’re not my mother.”
    Janna’s grin was malicious. “Why don’t you give her a call? I’m sure she’d let you move back into that squalid tract house with your snotty-nosed brothers and sisters. If you’re lucky, you can join your old high school friends yanking intestines out of chickens at the poultry plant. Get yourself knocked up, marry the illiterate jerk, and raise snotty-nosed brats of your own. Go out to dinner once a week at a chain cafeteria.”
    “Maybe I will,” Natalie said, but her voice was unsteady and she was unable to hold Janna’s stare. The bitch was right, she reminded herself. Four years earlier Janna had spotted her at a public golf course, realized her potential, and assured her that wealth and glory were awaiting her—if she agreed to allow Janna to manage her career. Natalie hadn’t suspected that Janna intended to manage her life as well, from vitamins at six in the morning until mandatory bedtime at ten o’clock.
    “No, you’ll do three miles at the track, then work out at the gym. I’ll take you to the tanning salon in the morning. The tournament starts in less than two weeks. Even though it’s inconsequential, it may get some publicity. I want your name and photograph in at least one newspaper twice a month.”
    “Does the Farberville Morning News count?”
    “If it leads to a mention in Sports Illustrated or Golf Digest , it counts.”
    • • •
    I counted to ten, took a deep breath, and walked across the scuffed dance floor to the bar. Estelle was perched on her customary stool at the end nearest the ladies’ room, a glass of sherry within reach. She nodded warily at me. Ruby Bee bustled up and said, “About time you showed your face, missy. Barbecued brisket or chicken-fried steak with cream gravy?”
    “A cheeseburger and fries,” I said.
    “That ain’t healthy.”
    “But a chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, fried okra, and buttered rolls are? Don’t bother answering. I’ll have a Caesar salad with grilled shrimp, low-fat dressing on the side, and a cup of