The Tale of Mally Biddle Read Online Free Page A

tables with difficulty due to her very large stomach and stood before their table.
    “I’ll be!” she exclaimed again, even louder than before, hands on her hips, a smile taking up more than half her face. “If it isn’t Cayla Black. Why, I haven’t seen you in ages! Beginning to think you’d vanished,” Olive laughed merrily.
    Cayla smiled.
    “When’s the baby due?” asked Nanette.
    Olive chuckled. “February. But the way he’s growing …” She patted her stomach affectionately and shrugged her shoulders as if to say “but what’s wrong with that?”
    “Any names yet?” Nanette asked.
    “Not many,” Olive admitted, flushing slightly. “Thomas and I know so many people—customers, you know—and you’d be amazed at how hard it is to find something original. But I have a soft spot for Galen. What do you think?”
    “Galen Dunker. Sounds nice,” Nanette agreed. “But what if it’s a girl?”
    Olive’s eyes widened.
    “Names are so difficult,” she said. As Nanette laughed, Olive turned back to Cayla, “So why the long time no see?”
    “It’s taken me longer than I thought to … to deal with Alice’s death,” Cayla replied quietly, though proud that her voice had r emained steady.
    Dawning comprehension swept over Olive’s face and she bent closer to them, no longer smiling, her voice hushed.
    “Horrible, that’s what it is! Never would have dreamed —I’m still horrified! And you two were friends with her!” Her eyes widened in shocked realization.
    “Everyone liked Alice,” Nanette said quickly, laying a hand on Cayla’s arm, who looked as if a dark cloud had suddenly materia lized over her head. “She was very kind.”
    “Yes, I know!” Olive nodded, her eyes wide. “It’s just baffling! But I guess you can’t tell with some people, can you? I feel so ho rribly for the poor princess. An orphan and not even a year old.”
    “I think we’ll order now, Olive,” said Nanette, cutting a glance at Cayla who was sitting so still and rigid she could have been stone.
    “Oh, yes, dears.” Olive fumbled with a piece of paper and extracted a short quill from her apron pocket. “What will it be?”
    “Can you believe that?” Cayla hissed heatedly, watching O live’s retreating back after she had scribbled down their order. “ You can’t tell with some people … She spoke as if she was glad Alice was dead!” 
    “Well, I think they are,” Nanette said carefully.
    Cayla’s head jerked around.
    “Alice’s memory is being dragged through the mud!” she whispered lividly. “ Alice does not deserve this! ”
    “No. She doesn’t,” Nanette agreed softly.
    Cayla felt tears welling in her eyes. Her throat constricted.
    Nanette squeezed Cayla’s arm before removing her hand to make room as their beer and a healthy wedge of stilton were placed between them.
    Cayla hastily wiped her eyes on her sleeve and took a sip of beer.
    “Do you think, that for right now, you can simply enjoy you rself?” Nanette asked quietly, leaning forward over the table. “This isn’t healthy, Cayla.”
    Cayla smiled slightly and nodded. 
    “I’ll drink to that!” cheered Nanette.
    They clanked their heavy mugs together, beer sloshing over the edges.
    Suddenly, the whole room seemed brighter, as if a thin cloth had been lifted from the scene. The merry customers around them drank and danced foolishly and before Cayla knew it, her foot was happily tapping to the beat of a young traveler’s fiddle.
    “Pheasant pie?” huffed a long-nosed young man, who had just arrived to their table, staggering under the weight of a huge pie.
    “Oh, yes. Thank you.”
    Sweat beading on his forehead, he bent his knees and slide the pie onto the table between them, where it steamed.
    “I tell you, I could live off this pie!” Nanette said with a feverish glint in her eyes.
     
    As the night continued, the Lone Candle seemed to grow even louder. After a few pints of mead, the musicians had sped up