Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [712]
“Amelia’s doing well.” I beamed nervously, all too aware I was the new center of attention.
“Is it true that she lost her house in the flooding?”
“It did sustain quite a bit of damage, her tenant said. So Amelia’s waiting to hear from the insurance company, and then she’ll decide what to do.”
“Lucky she was here with you when the hurricane hit,” Maxine said.
I guess poor Amelia had heard that a thousand times since August. I think Amelia was pretty tired of trying to feel lucky. “Oh, yes,” I said agreeably. “She sure was.”
Amelia Broadway’s arrival in Bon Temps had been the subject of lots of gossip. That’s only natural.
“So for right now, Amelia’ll just stay on with you?” Halleigh asked helpfully.
“For a while,” I said, smiling.
“That’s just real sweet of you,” Marcia Albanese said approvingly.
“Oh, Marcia, you know I got that whole upstairs that I never use. She’s actually improved it for me; she got a window air conditioner put in up there, so it’s much nicer. It doesn’t put me out one bit.”
“Still, lots of people wouldn’t want someone living in their home that long. I guess I should take in one of the poor souls staying at the Days Inn, but I just can’t bring myself to let someone else in my house.”
“I like the company,” I said, which was mostly true.
“Has she been back to check on her house?”
“Ah, only once.” Amelia had to get in and out of New Orleans real quick, so none of her witch friends could track her down. Amelia was in a bit of hot water with the witch community of the Big Easy.
“She sure loves that cat of hers,” Elmer Claire said. “She had that big old tom at the vet the other day when I took Powderpuff in.” Powderpuff, Elmer Claire’s white Persian, was about a million years old. “I asked her why she didn’t get that cat neutered, and she just covered that cat’s ears like he could hear me, and she asked me not to talk about it in front of Bob, just like he was a person.”
“She’s real fond of Bob,” I said, not quite knowing whether I wanted to gag or laugh at the idea of the vet neutering Bob.
“You know that Amelia how?” Maxine asked.
“You remember my cousin Hadley?”
Everyone in the room nodded, except newcomer Halleigh and her mother.
“Well, when Hadley lived in New Orleans, she rented the upstairs of Amelia’s house from her,” I said. “And when Hadley passed away”—here there were solemn nods all around—“I went down to New Orleans to clean out Hadley’s things. And I met Amelia, and we became friends, and she just decided she’d visit Bon Temps for a while.”
All the ladies looked at me with the most expectant expressions, as if they couldn’t wait to hear what would come next. Because there had to be more explanation, right?
There was indeed a lot more to the story, but I didn’t think they were ready to hear that Amelia, after a night of great loving, had accidentally turned Bob into a cat during a sexual experiment. I’d never asked Amelia to describe the circumstances, because I was pretty sure I didn’t want to get a visual on that scene. But they were all waiting for a little more explanation. Any explanation.
“Amelia had a bad breakup with her boyfriend,” I said, keeping my tone low and confidential.
All the other ladies’ faces were both titillated and sympathetic.
“He was a Mormon missionary,” I told them. Well, Bob had looked like a Mormon missionary, in dark slacks and a white short-sleeved shirt, and he’d even arrived at Amelia’s on a bicycle. He was actually a witch, like Amelia. “But he knocked on Amelia’s door and they just fell in love.” Actually, into bed. But you know—same thing, for the purposes of this story.
“Did his parents know?”
“Did his church find out?”
“Don’t they get to have more than one wife?”
The questions crowded in too thick for me to deal with, and I waited until the attendees had