Amanda pushed her way past Jamie. “I heard a truck and looked out the window, hoping both of you were leaving. What did he want?”
“He thinks we have conspired together and paid someone to . . .” Kate looked down at Gracie. “You know.”
“Is he insane? I told him I would never . . .” Amanda puckered up again. “I loved him too much . . .” She threw up her hands and hurried to her room.
“You better believe I told him I would have,” Jamie said bluntly. “In a split second, if I’d known for sure.”
“For sure?” Kate asked.
“Oh, yeah, I had my suspicions this last year when he started arriving late and leaving a day or two early. Import, export, my behind,” Jamie said.
“Mama, can I take my toys out on the deck and play?” Gracie asked.
“Yes, but you can’t go to the lake or even down the steps without me. Stay on the deck.” Jamie nodded. She turned to Kate. “So exactly what is import, export? I never got a straight answer.”
“He was a jobber. Do you know what that is?” Kate asked.
Jamie shook her head.
“He was an independent buyer of clothing and jewelry from stores after they had finished their seasonal sales. He would give the store ten cents on the dollar for all that was left and then sell it for twice that to discount clothing stores. He exported stuff out of those stores and imported it into other stores,” Kate said.
“He made it sound like a fancy job.” Jamie melted into a chair. “God, I feel stupid.”
Kate rocked up onto her knees and used the door handle to help her go from there to standing. “You mentioned doubts?”
“A wife knows when a man is having sex outside of his home. Surely you did.”
“I didn’t give a damn after the first year,” Kate said.
“Then why didn’t you divorce him?”
“That’s none of your business.” Kate’s hands were shaking when she went to her room, closed the door, and kicked off her high heels. She sat down on the edge of the bed. What if one of those other two did kill him? If so, then she might be next in line. They both sure seemed to be in a hurry to lay claim to the cabin, and she was the only one standing in their way.
“Stop it!” she scolded herself. “They want this place, but they did not kill Conrad. Not even a Hollywood actor can put on an act like they did at the funeral.”
Still, a shiver ran down her back as she opened her suitcases and filled the empty dresser drawers, hung up shorts and shirts, and neatly placed her sandals on the floor of the closet. She’d brought two sundresses in case she decided to go to church and two bathing suits for swimming. Other than that, it was strictly casual summer clothing.
She unzipped her straight business skirt and removed the matching short-sleeved jacket, hung them on a hanger together, and then pushed the straps down from a full-length slip, letting it slide off her slim body and puddle up around her feet. No panty hose, no slips, no enclosed shoes—not until she went back to Fort Worth.
Dressed in khaki shorts, a bright-orange knit shirt, and her favorite brown leather sandals, she picked up her Kindle and headed toward the deck. Halfway there she remembered that Gracie was playing out there, so she steered for the front porch instead.
She settled into the rocking chair again. It would be a good place to sit and read until supper time, when she intended to eat the sub sandwich she’d tucked away in the refrigerator. Those other two hussies better not touch it. They had shared a husband and they might be sharing a house, but by damn, that sandwich was hers, and they’d do well to keep their hands off it.
Tomorrow she would drive down to that grocery store in Seymour and buy what she wanted for a week. They could starve or fish for their food. Frankly, Kate didn’t give a damn what they did, as long as they stayed out of her way.
She hadn’t sat there more than ten minutes before she got thirsty and went back to the kitchen to make a pitcher of tea. But there was no tea, no sugar, and not even a jar of peanut butter in the pantry. The only edible thing in the house was her sandwich, and she’d have to drink tap water. Fourteen years ago the water had had a strange taste to it. It was fine for laundry and not bad for showers, but drinking was impossible. She filled a glass, took a sip, and spit it out. The years had not changed the water one bit.