Diamond Duo by Marcia Gruver Page B

inside, pulled out four pieces of wrapped candy, and handed one each to Mose and Rhodie. “This is for you.”
    Rhodie took it and turned it over in her hand. “What is it?”
    “It’s a block of candy. You’re supposed to eat it. But you’d better hurry; it’s starting to melt.”
    She tossed the bag to a still skeptical Rhodie and rejoined Annie. “
Now
we’re ready.” She grinned. “Let’s go.”
    They dodged muddy ruts and boggy holes until they reached the end of the clearing and stepped into the mouth of the trail. Loblolly pine had succeeded in crowding out most of the sweet gum and oak along the edges, and underbrush threatened to overtake the sandy path. Bertha led the way, stopping occasionally to hold back a droopy pine bough or step on a vine laced with stickers so Annie could pass.
    The summer sun in Jefferson blazed high and white-hot, but in the shorter, overcast days of winter, old Sol hovered in the sky like a dollop of fresh-churned butter. They made their way deeper into thick vegetation where the meager light began to lose its battle with the thick cover of trees and a cloudy sky.
    As the forest dimmed, Annie hustled a few steps closer and took Bertha’s hand.
    Bertha grinned and peered at her. “Are you scared?”
    She nodded and licked her lips. “A bit. All that talk of murder has me skittish. I keep waiting for some poor muggins to jump out with an ax.”
    They both laughed.
    “Want to go back?”
    A determined look replaced the worried expression. “After coming this far? Not on your life, dearie. Let’s go eat some chocolate.”
    When the track opened onto the bluff, they linked arms and crossed to the edge. Once they stretched out Bertha’s shawl and settled on the ground under a spreading oak, Annie seemed to relax and enjoy the view. They broke out the soft, squishy candy and divided a piece, laughing at the gooey mess it left on their fingers.
    Bertha felt deliciously naughty reclining under wide-open sky in a forbidden place, nipping delicate bites from a decadent treat.
    Annie seemed to have an endless supply of funny stories and epic tales. She told of her travels to faraway places and her house in Cincinnati. And about growing up in New York, though a shadow passed over her eyes when she mentioned her parents, as well as each time she mentioned Abraham Roth.
    She described Edward R. Rice’s production of
Evangeline
on Broadway so well Bertha could almost see the spouting whale, the dancing cow, and James S. Maffit’s performance as the Lone Fisherman.
    Annie paused to take a breath and glanced across at Bertha. “Have you ever been to the theater, sugar?”
    She shook her head. “The closest I ever came was a poster on Mama’s wall. It’s a billboard from
The Magic Deer
, and it reads ‘A Serio Comico Tragico Operatical Historical Extravaganzical Burletical Tale of Enchantment.’ ”
    Annie laughed so hard she nearly choked on her candy. When she composed herself, she put the uneaten piece down and wiped her fingers on the grass. “Sounds like they covered all the bases.”
    Bertha grinned. “They didn’t miss a one.”
    Annie scooted closer to the oak and leaned her head against the wide trunk. “Now then, darlin’, how about telling me the real reason you brought me here.”
    Bertha stopped midbite and jerked her head around to meetAnnie’s gaze. “What do you mean?”
    Grinning, Annie studied the toes of her shoes. “Come on, now. Don’t try to bamboozle me. I’m onto you.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Honey, you can’t fool me. We’re too much alike.”
    A surge of pleasure stole over Bertha’s heart. “You think we’re alike?”
    Annie slid closer, took Bertha’s candy, and laid it aside. “Allow me to demonstrate how much.” She squared around to face Bertha and took hold of her hands. “Tell me you don’t have a fire that burns inside all the time, pressing you to speak out when you don’t agree with the general consensus, urging you to