The Alpine Scandal Read Online Free

skeptical.
    “My, yes,” Polly declared, bristling ever so slightly. “He has to be clever—and amusing—when he’s dealing with teenagers who don’t want braces, not even the new kind you hardly notice. They’re so self-conscious at that age.”
    “Expensive, too,” Vida said, never willing to give an inch. “Thank goodness my grandson, Roger, had his braces removed two years ago. His teeth are now perfect.”
    Roger’s teeth. I considered them briefly. They were good, if not perfect. There were few positive things I could say about the spoiled-rotten kid, but maybe I could allow that his teeth weren’t as bad as the rest of him.
    “I’m going now,” I said in case Vida and Polly had forgotten that I’d ever come.
    Polly stepped forward. “Goodbye, Emma. It was nice to meet you.”
    I wasn’t searching for sincerity, which was a good thing. The comment was perfunctory at best, even though Polly smiled politely.
    Vida also announced her departure, wheeling around on her heel and heading toward the front door.
    “Ninny,” she remarked after we reached the driveway. “No wonder I’ve never enjoyed Polly’s company. She constantly brags about Carter. So irksome.”
    I wouldn’t have dared point out that Vida bragged a great deal about Roger, and with far less cause. Carter Nystrom was ten years older and had completed a rigorous education. Roger was still dawdling his way through community college.
    Vida stopped just before reaching her Buick. “I wonder…” she murmured.
    “What?” I said, taking the car keys out of my purse.
    “Ohhh…” Vida made a face. “We didn’t get any eggs.”
    “So?”
    “I wanted to make an omelet for dinner tonight,” Vida said. “My mouth is set for one. I’d only need three eggs. You run along. I’m going to the henhouse.”
    “Vida,” I objected, “that’s stealing.”
    Vida glowered at me. “Nonsense! Polly offered them to us. It’d be wrong
not
to take them. She said they’d go to waste.”
    “Then I’ll go with you,” I declared. “If Polly calls the sheriff, I want to be at your side when Milo Dodge comes to arrest you for egg burglary.”
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Vida gave me a reproachful look. “Very well. But you should take an egg or two for yourself. Do you know how to candle eggs?”
    “You hold them up to a light and make sure the center is clear.”
    “Correct,” Vida said, opening the wooden gate that led to the chicken coop behind the main house. “Or you can put them in a basin of cold water. If they sink, they’re fine.”
    I hadn’t known that, but I didn’t admit it. I was too busy trying to keep to the intermittent brick path that led to the henhouse. I noticed a fishpond tucked in one corner of the garden. The lily pad–dotted pool was shaded by an apple tree in front and several azaleas and rhododendrons around the far rim. We had to pass through another gated fence before we reached our goal.
    Chickens do know enough to stay out of the rain. But even though none of them were outside, their leavings were, causing an unpleasant smell and making it even more difficult to walk on the soggy ground.
    The door was shut, and that made Vida frown. “Odd,” she murmured. “Why does Elmer keep the henhouse closed up? Chickens should be free to roam.”
    “Maybe they have another way out,” I suggested.
    “Perhaps,” Vida said, lifting the latch. “Oh, well. People don’t use good sense.”
    There were at least a couple of dozen hens pecking around on the ground or sitting on nests. Two roosters perched on a rafter that ran the width of the henhouse. The chickens were all a handsome red-brown color. Despite being city-bred, I was able to identify them as Rhode Island Reds. The hen closest to the door seemed distressed. She was flapping her wings and moving from one foot to the other.
    “Don’t bother the ones sitting on their nests,” Vida warned. “They may be broody, though this is not the time of year I