Read Bouquet of Lies for Free Online Page A

was he going? If she’d spoken to him, he might have invited her to go along and . . .
    And what? I’d have been all tongue tied and would have looked like an idiot.
    She climbed off the bed and started getting dressed. She couldn’t go anywhere anyway. Important company was coming. The Reverend Irene.
    Darla wiggled into one of the long-sleeved shirts she liked to wear over tees and checked the time. Hopefully Henry would return soon and leave again to take Edward to his men’s club. Then she would have the house to herself and no one would know about her visit with the Reverend.
    She hated keeping secrets from Lacey, but Lacey had brought this on herself. She could hear her conversation with her big sister now.
    Another psychic! Don’t you ever learn?
    She’s not a psychic. She’s a spiritual advisor. Just because you don’t believe . . .
    You’re not looking for spirituality. You’re looking for Mom and she’s dead!
    She’d stopped talking about Reverend Irene after that.
    Darla reached for her journal and a pen before settling back on the bed. Images of Jake swirled in her head. She smiled, put the pen down, and allowed herself to remember when they’d played together as kids.
    Thirty minutes later she realized she hadn’t written a thing. Reverend Irene would not be pleased. She wanted Darla to write in her journal every morning.
    Darla scribbled something about what a lovely day it was before she noticed Henry return in the Rolls. In a few minutes he would drive Edward to the club.
    Or he was supposed to. An hour went by and Darla eyed the clock nervously. It would be ten soon. Reverend Irene was coming at two. Henry was still in his apartment. If her grandfather didn’t go to the club today she should reschedule.
    Darla decided to check on Edward and climbed off the bed. The door to his bedroom was closed and she didn’t dare open it or even knock. Instead, she moved closer, positioned her ear, and heard snoring. He was asleep! Disappointment caused her to sigh. He had probably drunk more scotches or bourbons or whatevers for breakfast than usual.
    She frowned. Should she postpone her meeting with Reverend Irene or not? It wasn’t what she wanted to do. She needed to discuss the Huntington. She needed to know why her mother hadn’t shown up. She needed reassurance that she hadn’t done something wrong. And when might she see her mother again? What happened now? The Reverend always had some sort of glimpse into the future.
    Darla thought: This is my house . I’m not a child. I have a right to have a friend over.
    But what if Edward caught her?
    A nervous ripple traveled her skin and she chewed on a fingernail.
    He won’t catch us, she told herself. She and the Reverend were going to meet in the sitting room. It was off the foyer, far away from Edward’s room. If they spoke quietly, Edward would never know the Reverend was there. He would probably sleep the whole afternoon.
     

     
    When the Reverend Irene arrived, Darla handed her three one-hundred dollar bills and received a cold nod of the head.
    It’s not enough money, Darla thought, guilt making her feel a little queasy. On their first meeting, the Reverend had said she didn’t charge for her services. Her abilities were a gift from God and she gave all insights freely. However, she wasn’t adverse to donations. She did have to eat. She said this with sincerity and Darla got the message. She needed to pay if she expected the Reverend’s help.
    Next time I’ll give her five hundred instead of three.
    They sat across from each other in comfortable wingback chairs. The Reverend wore a flowery kaftan, the billowy fabric covering her ample torso. Crystals dangled from chains around her neck and brown hair fell in a mass of ringlets past her shoulders. She wore too much makeup, almost to the point of being a mask. Darla thought that odd because although the Reverend might be middle-aged, she clearly had a beautiful face.
    “Mom didn’t