Read The Dolls for Free Online Page B

just haven’t lived until I’ve attended the annual Mardi Gras Ball.
    “You are so lucky, Eveny,” Peregrine’s mother says as she finishes the last of her coffee cake. “It’s the social event of the year. It’ll be a wonderful welcome home for you!”
    “Thanks for the coffee, sugar,” Chloe’s mom says. She stands up and brings her mug and plate to the sink.
    Peregrine’s mom hands her dishes to me. “We’re sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”
    “You must promise us, Eveny, that you’ll spend some time with our daughters,” Chloe’s mom says. “They’re ever so delighted that you’re back, and they can’t wait to get to know you.”
    I want to tell her that based on the way Peregrine and Chloe were looking me up and down at the funeral like I was yesterday’s garbage, I’m not expecting a call from them anytime soon.
    “Sure, I’d love to hang out,” I say, forcing a smile as I walk them to the door.
    “Make sure you eat that cake, now!” Chloe’s mother says brightly. They both air-kiss me on their way out, and a moment later, they’re vanishing down my long driveway in a sleek silver Bentley coupe.
    Later that afternoon, I’m wobbling down Main Street on a 1970s cruiser that Boniface found for me in the storage shed. Its red paint is chipped in places, and I’ve managed to convince myself that the rust stains and loud rattling noise aren’t all that obvious until people start to turn and stare at me. I’m relieved when I spot my aunt’s bakery, which now has a purple sign above the front door that says sandrine’s bakeshop.
    “Aunt Bea?” I call out as I head inside, where the air is soft with cinnamon and chocolate. She’s painted the walls pale pink and decorated them with a dozen ornate French-style mirrors in various shapes and sizes. As I step up to the polished silver counter and the big glass case, I think how proud my mom would have been to have her name on a place like this.
    “Eveny? That you?” I hear my aunt’s voice from the back, and a moment later she emerges wearing a flour-streaked blue apron over jeans.
    “Aunt Bea, the bakery’s beautiful!” I tell her. “I can’t believe you put this together in a week.”
    “I hoped you’d like it.” She smiles at me. “Want to try one of my chocolate lavender cupcakes? I have some cooling.”
    “Maybe later. I just had some lemon herb cake.”
    She looks confused. “Where did that come from?”
    “Peregrine’s and Chloe’s mothers dropped by to welcome us to town.”
    I expect her to be pleased, but instead her face darkens. “What did they say?”
    “That their daughters are positively thrilled to have me back.” I roll my eyes. “Doubtful.”
    “I suspect you’ll have more in common with them than you imagine,” she says. “Now, would you mind helping me frost some cupcakes? I want to take them home for Boniface to thank him for all his hard work.”
    She brings me a tray of unfrosted cakes and a pastry bag, setting them on a table in front of the bakery window. “I’ll be in the back if you need me.”
    I spend the next few minutes piping caramel cream onto little pillows of chocolate. As I work, my head is swirling with a thousand questions about my mom, prompted by my brief visit with her two best friends. I’ve Googled her before, hoping to find some information about her death, but not even an obituary popped up. Just like with Glory.
    “Hey, Aunt Bea?” I ask when I’m finished, setting the tray of frosted cupcakes on the counter in the back. “Does Carrefour have a newspaper?”
    “Sure, why?”
    “I’m trying to understand what happened with Glory Jones. I don’t get what would make someone who seemed so happy kill herself.”
    She studies me briefly before saying, “Try the library. Mrs. Potter, who runs the place, prides herself in keeping perfect town records. Or at least she used to when I was growing up here.” She walks me to the door and points down the street.