A Scarlet Cord Read Online Free Page A

an erratic rhythm. “It was nice to meet you, Melanie. I’ll be calling you about that logo.”
    “Oh, sure … that’d be great.” Feeling uncharacteristically shy, she gave him an awkward wave and went to collect Jerica and gather the now-empty pie plate and casserole dish she’d brought.

    The following Thursday evening, Melanie was putting the last of the day’s dishes into the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. Drying her hands, she went into the foyer and looked through the peephole. One large, heavily-lashed dark brown eye stared back at her. If the familiar lilting laughter of her daughter on the other side of the door hadn’t given them away, the friendly yapping of Biscuit, the LaSalles’ little bichon frise, would have.
    Melanie opened the door to find Jerica sitting atop her grandfather’s shoulders. He was loaded down with shopping bags like a packhorse. Erika cradled the small dog in her arms.
    “Hi, sweetie!” Melanie reached up to catch the kiss her daughter blew her.
    “Hi, Mommy. Did you see my eye?”
    “Is that what that was? I thought it was a big black spider. I was almost too scared to open the door.”
    Jerica giggled, and Melanie closed the door behind them.
    “Did she wear you out?” she asked Jerry and Erika as she led the way through the foyer to the living room.
    “No more than usual,” Erika said, depositing the little dog on the floor. “We can’t stay long, but I do want to see the fashion show.”
    Melanie clapped her hands. “Oh, you must have found the dress.” Jerica and her grandmother had been shopping since after Christmas for the perfect Easter dress.
    “Finally. It was worth waiting for, though. Just wait till you see.” Erika pointed an impeccably manicured nail toward Jerica’s bedroom. “Run and try on your new dress for Mommy, sweetie. And don’t forget—”
    “I know … I know, Grammy,” Jerica interrupted. “The tag goes in the back!” She lugged the largest shopping bag down the hallway, singsonging all the way. “The tag goes in the ba-ack. The tag goes in the ba-ack …”
    Biscuit pattered behind her, his dog tags jangling. Jerica turned and, backing down the hall, shook a pudgy finger at the dog, a nervous waver in her voice. “No, Biscuit! Stay! Bad dog. Stay.” Her voice climbed an octave. “Mommy?”
    “Just go, Jerica. He won’t hurt you,” Melanie said, shaking her head in exasperation.
    “Biscuit! Come,” Erika scolded, clicking her tongue. Biscuit complied, and Jerica ran back to her room and slammed the door against the tiny dog. Since she had been a toddler, Jerica had feared canines of all breeds. She tolerated Biscuit—all three and a half pounds of him—only when he was under the watchful eye of an adult.
    “Come here, baby,” Erika cooed, scooping up the dog, then slumping onto the sofa with an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, for half the energy of your little dynamo! She’s a treasure, Mel. A real treasure.”
    “And you’re not one bit prejudiced, Erika,” Melanie teased.
    The elder Mrs. LaSalle laughed, looking at least a decade younger than her fifty-eight years. Her smooth platinum-blond hair was styled in a chic, short pageboy, and her olive skin bore only faint crow’s-feet. She had a dancer’s build and wore her extensive wardrobe beautifully.
    Jerry LaSalle plopped onto the sofa beside his wife, feigning exhaustion. She put a hand on his knee. “One quick glimpse of thelittle princess in her new duds, and then we’d better get you home to bed, Grampa.”
    “Well, you’d better hurry, or you may have to carry me.”
    “Poor baby.” Erika patted her husband’s cheek affectionately.
    They made a handsome couple, and Melanie knew that theirs was a happy and satisfying marriage—one that had been strong enough to weather the tragic death of their only child. Though at times Melanie felt smothered by their acute interest in her life—and Jerica’s—she also felt blessed that she’d been able to