The Scarlet Letter Scandal Read Online Free

the first place?”
    “God would have struck me with lightning at least five times by now if he was going punish people for sleeping with someone they aren’t married to,” said Eva, “and you didn’t even do that.”
    “I’d be dead a bunch of times over as well,” said Maggie, “deader than Eva, not that there’s a zombie slut competition.”
    Lisa laughed, and it felt good. She hadn’t laughed in a while. Eva and Maggie laughed with her.
    “Yes, well, I wouldn’t want to take you on in the Slutty Zombie Pageant,” said Eva.
    “You would kick my ass in that swimsuit competition,” said Maggie.
    “How are your boys doing, Eva?” Lisa asked, drying her tears and happy to change the topic.
    “Well, they’re fine,” said Eva. “Still in lacrosse camp right now. Getting ready to head back to high school where I’ll have to stress out over their grades and what colleges will admit them despite these numbers.”
    Maggie laughed. “They’re good enough players that someone oughta take them. I’m glad that after May I will be down to only one college tuition. Hey, you mentioned Zarina. Nice she’s helping you out. How’s she doing? With all the renovations at my shop, I haven’t been in there lately.”
    “She’s great,” said Lisa. “Stanley is in the shop with her a few days a week making the best sandwiches, and they are so adorable together.”
    “They are,” said Maggie. “The newlyweds! Still can’t believe they eloped.”
    “A wise choice,” said Eva. “Saved them a ton of money.”
    The women turned their heads at the crackling sound of a pickup truck rolling into the oyster shell driveway. Eva stood.
    “That must be our dinner,” she said.
    “I thought you couldn’t get anything delivered on this island,” said Maggie.
    “Most people can’t,” said Eva, as a shadow of a smile crossed her face.
    She walked around the screened porch to greet her visitor in the driveway as he got out of the rusted pickup truck. The waterman wore a faded baseball hat, ribbed tank top, rubber hip-waders, and white boots, a standard-issue uniform for the boat captains who went out into the Chesapeake Bay each day in search of crabs or oysters, depending on the season.
    Maggie and Lisa looked at each other inquisitively, confirming that neither recognized the visitor.
    “Hey, Eva,” said the fishing boat captain.
    “Hi, Nathan. I really can’t thank you enough for coming by after a day on the water,” said Eva.
    “Well, you can’t buy crabs retail anywhere on this island, so the only thing to really do if you don’t want to ride up the road is to know a waterman,” said Nathan, smiling down at her from a four-inch height advantage.
    “I feel lucky,” said Eva.
    “Do you want me to steam these up for you ladies?” he asked, removing a tattered wooden bushel basket from the bed of his older model pickup truck. Moving crustacean legs poked out of the slats of the basket, and the faint scratching of the live Maryland blue crabs could be heard from inside. It was the state’s most prized seafood.
    “Yeah, steam everything up for us,” Maggie said with a snicker.
    “Nathan, these are my friends Maggie and Lisa,” said Eva by way of introduction. “And you don’t need to steam them. I have that big crab pot and the propane burner and I can just throw them in there.”
    “Hello, ladies,” said Nathan, tipping his hat. “All right, well, let me get that started for you anyway.”
    Nathan walked to the old open-ended wooden garage near the house and took out the large metal crab pot, propane, and burner.
    Eva smiled at her friends. She held up her wine glass.
    “We’ll have to take a break from this wine,” she said. “As you all well know, we only drink beer around here with steamed crabs.”
    Maggie and Lisa stood up from their Adirondack chairs, offering help, and the three women set about preparing the picnic table. Eva unrolled brown paper, taping it at the corners. Maggie