Protector - Laurel Dewey [136]
Jane and Emily walked across the gravel driveway and up to the large, Mission-style front door. It was several inches ajar—a common practice for small-town folks and an unspoken signal to come in. The humming din of women’s voices could be heard, along with the eruption of an occasional grating cackle. Jane let out a tired sigh and entered the house with Emily close by her side.
The tri-level house was duly impressive. Vaulted ceilings led the eye upward to various odd shapes of windows that framed the second story. The home was furnished in a combination of Santa Fe Chic and classic old Mexican style. Burnt orange hues blended with soft terra cotta tones that effortlessly flowed into deep burgundy and chestnut accents. It was a showplace and an obvious source of pride for Kathy. Jane and Emily stood outside a clique of two dozen women who milled around a long wooden dinner table, munching on nachos and salsa.
“Does anybody know how many points a nacho is on the Weight Watchers’ menu?” a woman yelled out.
Kathy poked her head through the gaggle of giggling females and caught sight of Jane. She excitedly waved her arm and motioned Jane forward. “Hi! Come on in, girls!” Kathy maneuvered her way around the band of women to meet Jane and Emily. “I am so glad you came!” Turning to the cluster of droning voices, Kathy announced Jane and Emily’s appearance. “Girls! Girls! I want you all to meet Anne and Patty Calver! They’re the two new folks in town who I’ve been telling you all about!” Jane wondered just exactly what she had been telling these women when they turned in unison to Jane with a look of judgment across their faces. Emily’s attention was drawn outside through the open French doors to the backyard where Heather and a few other young girls were practicing line dancing steps in front of the family’s outdoor trampoline. “Would you like to go out and say hi to Heather?” Kathy asked Emily with a big, toothy grin.
Emily looked up at Jane. “Is that okay with you, Mom?”
“Oh, there she goes again!” Kathy quickly interjected. “Little Miss Manners!”
Jane’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, sure. It’s okay.”
Emily scooted across the wooden floor and into the backyard.
“Her stitches are out,” Kathy said, eyes fixed on Emily.
“Yes,” Jane said tersely.
Kathy turned to Jane. “That’s odd. Dr. Armstrong didn’t mention your visit.”
“Kathy!” came a voice from around the table. “We’re gonna need more mason jars for the cherries!”
Kathy turned to the woman. “I’ve got plenty stashed away in Kent’s workshop! I’ll get ’em for ya!” Kathy took Jane by the arm. “But first, I want to introduce you to the gals!” She escorted Jane to the table and proceeded to point and name each and every woman around the table. In between nodding like a robot, Jane stole a glance toward the backyard where Emily was engaged in her own conversation.
“We’re practicing our steps!” Heather announced to Emily with a snotty tone.
“Who’s she?” one of the girls asked Heather.
“I’m Em—,” Emily caught herself. “Patty.”
“Don’t you even know your own name?” Heather said with a smirk.
Emily let Heather’s comment roll off her back. “So, what are you practicing for?”
The girls looked surprised by Emily’s question.
“What do you think?” Heather asked. “The dance? At the Peach