Paige had called to ask me to pick her up at the bus stop. Should I read anything into that, or had she tried to call Mr. McMahan and found that he wa... busy? She’d only agreed to attend the cookout after I told her that I needed help fending off our host. I counted the times she placed her hand in mine, and there had been her knee rubbing against mine while I was verbally jousting with Harold Whitney. She’d shown no reaction when I revealed that my wife was deceased. Many of my questions were. Like today, her reddish brown blouse was just thin enough to allow her lacy white bra to show through. Judy wasn’t a slim woman, but she wasn’t fat. She had the hips and bum you would expect for a woman of her age who had kept a husband happy for eighteen years. Matt loved her knee-high boots, he loved her eye-shadow and the way her perfume was like mint and freesia rolled into one. Matt was a rakish guy, between school and college with foppish hair and a half-hearted goatee growing on his. More

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