No Perfect Secret Read Online Free Page A

a return pouch—or he has to wait for it—he can take a day or two off—meet his wife or girlfriend. It happens.”
    “Not with us. I have a job. We can’t leave his mother for more than overnight. And that’s only if our neighbor stays over. She’s...”
    “—Not well. Right. I understand.” Caburn drained his cup, and returned his pen and notebook to his pocket. “I think that will do it. I appreciate your time—and the tea. If I need anything else, I’ll call first.”
    Anna gave him a curious look. “But why not just wait until Kevin returns?” She wondered how sensitive the documents Kevin last carried had been. Wondered too, if he had been put in harm’s way, but dismissed the thought. Frank Caburn’s laid-back demeanor didn’t augur for that possibility.
    “That makes more sense than you can possible know. I’m going to suggest it to my boss.”
    She walked him to the door, waited while he shrugged into his overcoat. A very fine vicuna, Anna noted. His picked his muffler up off the floor and shoved it into a pocket.
    As Caburn opened the front door the lights blinked. “Oh, Lord, if the ice brings down the lines, we’re in for it.”
    “Well, safe traveling,” Anna said, and shut the door firmly —against the wind, the sleet, and Frank Caburn.
    The brass knocker sounded. Anna opened the door to him again.
    “I forgot. My hat blew away. If it shows up in the neighborhood, would you hold onto it for me?”
    “Your hat?”
    “Yeah. It’s a very nice hat.” He started to say more but a gust of sleet-filled wind slammed into him.
    Anna closed the door and shot the dead bolt. She leaned against it for a moment. Oh, Kevin—what have you DONE?
    She knew without a doubt that her life was going to change —how, she didn’t know, but she understood from this day forward she was going to have to learn to find refuge within herself—not in her job, her friends—or even Kevin.
    As she returned to the kitchen her mind was racing like the wind outside, touching down here and there on unpredictable currents.
    She was flipping a grilled cheese sandwich when Clara-Alice came into the kitchen.
    “Anna, would you please make me another cup of tea. Like the one earlier —not chamomile, the one that tastes so buttery.”
    Please? Did I just hear Clara-Alice say, please? Anna looked at her mother-in-law. “Sure. Would you like a grilled cheese sandwich, too?”
    “That sounds good. Could we have some cottage cheese with pineapple ?”
    Anna nodded, afraid to speak.
    “I’ll be right back,” Clara-Alice said. “I just want to watch the reveal on What Not to Wear. It’s amazing how clothes and makeup change those women.”
    As soon as Clara-Alice was out of the kitchen, Anna poured scotch into a cup, put the tea bag on top, and plugged in the kettle. She returned the bottle to the sideboard, stared at it, then moved it behind the other bottles. As crazy as it appeared, one ounce of scotch had done what two psychiatrists, a half-dozen therapists, Prozac, Zoloft, and Effexor, had not—returned her mother-in-law to the gentle soul she had first met before the tragedy of 9/11. She wondered if there was such a thing as liquor therapy.
    As they finished their meal, Clara-Alice was mellow. Anna wondered if feeding two ounces of alcohol to Clara-Alice was elder abuse. Better not chance it , she thought.
    “Did the man say,” Clara-Alice began. “Is Kevin in some sort of trouble?”
    Anna chose her words carefully. “He just said Kevin would be home in a few days; a week at the most.”
    “That’s good news—isn’t it?”
    “Wonderful news,” Anna agreed.
    “Anna—may I ask you a really, really personal question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
    “Ask me and we’ll see,” Anna said offering a smile to take any sting out of her reply.
    Still, Clara-Alice hesitated. “I was just wondering—are you and Kevin planning on children?”
    “ Clara-Alice! Of course we are.” How