Weaving the Strands Read Online Free Page A

dollars
from Windsor College, he had maintained a mistress in grand style in the posh
Arizona suburb of Scottsdale. Then in a final bizarre twist, Maggie had
inherited Rosemont from Paul. Even now, almost a year after moving into the
manor, she still couldn’t believe that he had concealed its existence from her
for a decade after it had been left to him.
    Maggie stood and stretched. She walked to the
window and leaned against the sill. How nice it would be to go away with John
for a long weekend. They needed to spend time together. Maybe a mini-vacation
would get him out of the doldrums, a side effect of his recent and long-overdue
knee replacement surgery.
    Maggie knew that John hated being away from his
veterinary practice, especially since his patients—both human and
not—relied on his wisdom and gentle manner. He hated even more being
dependent on others to chauffeur him around. A better doctor than a patient,
he’d set his recovery back by ignoring doctor’s orders and pushing himself too
hard. The fact that he wouldn’t be able to resume driving for another six weeks
had rendered him inconsolably irritable.
    Maggie smiled. She’d pick him up at physical
therapy and take him out for a nice dinner. Maybe they’d even stop for his
favorite dessert—butter pecan ice cream—on the way back to his
house. She’d been late the last three times she’d collected him from therapy.
She’d surprise him tonight and be waiting when he stepped out the door. She
needed to treat him like the priority he was.
    Maggie’s phone began to ring and she quickly
returned to her desk, answering on the third ring with a cheerful “Maggie
Martin.”
    “You certainly sound chipper, Ms. Mayor. But then
you’re not a pensioner whose checks may bounce.”
    Maggie sank into her chair. This call was going to
take time. She knew from experience that it probably wouldn’t end well.
    ***
    By the time she managed to get off
the phone, she was shocked to see that it was already dark outside. Her conversation
with the retired town worker who was concerned about his pension had taken far
longer than she would have liked. He’d been furious with her answers, and who
could blame him? No one wanted to find out that their retirement nest egg was
half of what had been expected. She listened to his complaints and sympathized
with his frustrations. Maybe he was right; maybe she should turn the job over
to someone else better qualified to deal with the financial mess. She certainly
hadn’t come up with any solutions.
    Maggie quickly checked her watch. Ten minutes
after seven! She logged off her computer, snatched her purse from her desk
drawer, and hurried to the elevators. She fished her cell phone out of her
purse and dialed John’s mobile phone number as soon as she exited the elevator
on the ground floor.
    “Hi, John,” she said as soon as he answered. “I’m
on my way. I should be there in about twenty minutes. Are you all done?” she
asked, hoping that he hadn’t been waiting for her. “You are? I know I was
supposed to be there at seven. And I’m so very sorry. I got a call from—”
She stopped as he cut her off.
    “You’re right. It’s no excuse. I know I’m making a
habit of it.” Maggie listened attentively as she approached her car.
    “The exception is getting to be the rule. You’re
right. I know you’re tired after physical therapy and that you’re anxious to
get home. I’m truly sorry. Can we talk about this later? I want to concentrate
on heading your way. I’ll see you shortly,” she said, punching off.
    She had to admit he had every right to be furious
with her. How had she let this happen again?
    She hovered by her car door and pulled on the
handle, but it wouldn’t open. “What in the world?” she muttered as she churned
through the contents of her purse like a cement mixer, looking for her keyless
remote. A tide of panic rose as she set her purse on the hood and pulled out
her wallet, makeup bag, and