Sunshine. Pat WarrenЧитать онлайн книгу.
in the vague way he had when he didn’t want to argue the point. Obviously he had no intention of complying. “Are you going to Janice’s when this is over?”
“Yes, of course. You remember last night, all that baking I did? I had Patrick run it over to Janice’s earlier.”
Johnny frowned. “What about the rest of the town? You have enough to do without—”
Anna stopped him, raising a hand to caress his cheek. “Lots of people are bringing food. It’s already done, so don’t fret. We wanted to do it this way. Alyssa dropped off several platters already and Marge Peterson sent two boxes of covered dishes from the diner. You should stop and have something to eat.”
“I can’t. We’ve got a lot of people out at the plant with this damn flu bug.” Johnny glanced up at the early-afternoon sun. “Freezing one day, then almost sixty the next. Half the town’s sick with it.”
“It’s still the middle of winter,” Anna commented as she frowned at her only son. “Patrick, why aren’t you wearing a topcoat?”
Patrick Kelsey smiled at his mother. “I’m married now, Mom,” he answered as he slipped his arm around his wife’s slim waist. “You can’t boss me around anymore.”
“As if I ever could,” Anna muttered. “Pam, you need to take a firmer hand with your husband.”
Pam Casals Kelsey looked up into her husband’s vivid blue eyes. “I try,” Pam answered. “I insisted Patrick bring his coat and he insisted we leave it in the car.”
“That’s because my son thinks he’s a macho man,” Anna responded with a smile. But then her gaze shifted back to Janice.
There was a weary slump to her friend’s shoulders and her hands fluttered nervously as she accepted the condolences of a well-dressed man Anna had never seen before. Obviously Janice was still struggling with the shock of Kurt’s sudden death. Maybe if they got her home now, she’d have time for a short rest before having to put up a brave front during the luncheon.
Quickly, Anna said goodbye to her own family and moved unobtrusively until she was next to Janice. Taking one of her cold hands, she smiled gently. “Why don’t we move along to the house now? You can talk with the rest of the people there.”
“Yes, yes, fine.” Janice sounded tired. Slowly she turned for a last look at the coffin that held her husband’s remains.
She hated to leave, yet she wasn’t certain how much longer her legs would hold her. She was so cold, cold clear through. Her feet, her hands... It should have rained today, Janice thought irrelevantly. You shouldn’t bury someone on a sunny, crisp day but rather on a gloomy, rain-filled one. Much more appropriate.
Her thoughts were rambling, disjointed and a little frightening. She needed to get out of here, to be home, to be safe and warm again. She would not cry here in this grim, desolate place. Moving woodenly, as if she were sleepwalking, Janice placed the rose she’d been holding on top of the casket, then closed her eyes a long moment, fighting the quick flash of pain. When she felt her son’s hand on her arm, she straightened and let herself be led to the waiting limousine.
* * *
SHE LOOKED TIRED, David Markus thought as he stood at the far end of the living room watching Janice and the seemingly endless stream of neighbors and friends who kept coming up to her. Women with reddish-brown hair usually looked good in black, but today, Janice’s pale skin was too stark a contrast. Yellow was her color, a preference he’d shared with her years ago.
Sipping his coffee, he studied her from his unobtrusive corner. The dress was somewhat shapeless and not terribly flattering to her willowy figure. She’d wound her thick hair into a haphazard upsweep that was nonetheless appealing. Her face was oval, with high cheekbones, a small nose and a generous mouth. By far her best features were her wide-set gray eyes. Without the sunglasses, they appeared huge and terribly vulnerable, fleetingly reflecting a myriad of emotions as they settled on first one person, then flitted to another. He doubted if she’d remember much of what was said today.
She’d changed, David decided as he settled himself on the arm of a nearby chair. But who hadn’t in the past twenty-plus years? Changed, and yet she was in many ways the same. A little hesitant, her voice still low and husky. He’d been enamored of that voice back when he and Kurt and Janice had all three been attending the University of Wisconsin at Madison.
David had just started his junior year when Janice had arrived as a bright-eyed yet shy freshman. In a bevy of sophisticates, she’d stood out as a guileless innocent. He’d gravitated to her and they’d started dating. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to have gone off the deep end over Janice, and he’d recognized that quickly. But he’d been nearly penniless then, financing his education with scholarships, and on what his mother managed to scrimp together. He’d had nothing to offer a girl from a moneyed background.
She’d come from a sheltered home and a watchful father. Finding herself suddenly on her own, she’d gradually moved out of her shell, and David knew she’d dated others besides him. After a while, he’d stopped asking her out, telling her he had too many obligations to allow much time for dating. She’d accepted his news calmly, though he’d thought she looked disappointed. Or had that been wishful thinking? The next thing he knew, she’d been all wrapped up in his roommate, Kurt Eber.
Kurt’s parents had died, leaving him with a decent nest egg that he hoped to parlay into even more money. The Ingalls family didn’t seem to intimidate Kurt, though he’d mentioned to David that they appeared to disapprove of his brash confidence. David had wondered if Janice would succumb to Kurt’s heated pursuit of her, and indeed, she’d been overwhelmed by his charm. Over her family’s objections, she’d run off and married him. David had chosen not to go along to stand up as Kurt’s best man.
So much water under the bridge since then. Finishing his coffee, David stood and set the cup aside as Herbert Ingalls walked over to him, squinting through his bifocals.
“I know you from somewhere, don’t I?” Herbert asked, extending his hand.
“Yes, sir,” David said, shaking hands. “We met some time ago. David Markus.”
“Ah, yes. You were involved in a government program that my lab was working on about five or six years ago.” Herbert ran long fingers through his unkempt white hair.
He was a big man, tall and thick through the chest, even though he had to be in his mid- to late-seventies. Compared to his well-groomed older brother, Judson Ingalls, Herbert in his baggy tweed suit looked a little like an unmade bed, David thought.
“You still with the Feds?” Herbert asked.
David shook his head. “Twenty years was long enough. I’ve got my own firm now. Financial adviser.”
“Out of Milwaukee?”
“No, sir. Chicago.” He nodded toward Janice. “I went to college with your daughter. And Kurt, of course.” Janice had taken him to her family home once, but David was certain her father didn’t remember meeting him then.
“Football, right? You played college ball. Pretty good, as I recall.”
So he did remember. A sharp old man. “That was a long time ago.”
Herbert wrinkled his brow as he glanced over at his daughter. “Damn shame about Kurt. A quick heart attack like that—easy on the victim, hell of a thing for the family to handle.”
“Janice looks pretty shaken up.”
“She is, for now,” Herbert went on. “She’s stronger than she looks, though. I’ve been telling her for years to get out of that man’s shadow. Not healthy. Janice has this stubborn streak. But now she’s got no choice.”
David’s gaze took in the crowds of people filling the downstairs. “It looks as if she’s got a lot of supportive friends and relatives.”
Herbert’s shrewd eyes