Love With A Stranger by Janelle Taylor Page A

that explained why no one had phoned or come to visit his recent widow. True, she had no close friends here, or permanent neighbors. But didn’t, she reasoned as she fidgeted, good manners and breeding dictate that at least a few of Tom’s acquaintances would contact her? What had happened to common courtesy, compassion, southern hospitality?
    Maybe they never liked or accepted me in their social circle, she mused. Now that Tom’s gone, they don’t have to pretend anymore. I wasn’t born or reared as one of them. I sneaked in by marrying up. I’m nothing more than a country girl from a poor family. I couldn’t even hold on to my first husband; he screwed around, too. She sighed in dismay. For heaven’s sake, what’s wrong with me? Going off the deep end? I’m as edgy and prickly as a cactus! Get a grip on yourself before you wind up in a —
    Cass jumped and squealed when Inez spoke from behind her. She bumped the table leg with her knee when she twisted in her seat. She just managed to halt herself before—so unlike her—cursing the woman.
    “I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to startle you. More coffee?”
    Cass rested one hand on her chest as if to help slow her racing heart. “No, thank you, Inez; I’m stimulated enough today. Have you checked the phones to be sure they’re working?”
    “They’re working fine, ma’am. Why do you ask?”
    “I guess I’m just disappointed that nobody’s called me.”
    “Maybe folks don’t know what to say to a new widow or they don’t want to disturb you this soon after his funeral. You and Mr. Peter have gotten plenty of pretty sympathy cards. Do you want me to bring out the box so you can read them?”
    “No! I mean, no thanks; I’m not in the mood for more sadness today.” She thought that sounded like a flimsy excuse following her outburst. “I think I’ll walk out to the mailbox and check it.”
    Knowing she was supposed to intercept any mail that didn’t get forwarded to Peter’s new post office box, Inez set down the coffeepot as she offered, “I’ll go for you. Maybe he hasn’t come by yet, so no need for you to waste your energy when you look so tired.”
    Cass’s troubled mind scoffed, Being nice again today, are we? “That’s kind of you, Inez, but I need the exercise and diversion.”
    Cass headed for the brick walkway that separated the main house from Peter’s residence and garage. She walked along the curved driveway that edged the ivory stucco and glanced at the enormous live oak with its spreading limbs draped in silvery Spanish moss, its leaves as evergreen as the thick and lush bed of ivy surrounding its huge base. She reached the mailbox and peered inside: nothing there.
    Her vexation increased at being ignored by the many people that Tom had known. Then again, she reasoned as she grit her teeth and frowned, maybe they knew Tom too well. Perhaps they had associated with him only because of his wealth andstatus and they hadn’t truly liked or respected him and felt the same way about her.
    Cass looked up the tree-shaded street of expensive homes. She loved the beauty and tranquility of the long and narrow island and its semi-tropical climate and verdant landscape. Even so, she couldn’t decide if this was where she wanted to spend her life, as so much of this small island and others nearby was geared toward tourists and vacationing residents. The rear of her home bordered the glistening Atlantic with its lovely beach of soft white sand. The other side of the island provided sweeping marsh views and wetlands, a buffer between the ocean and mainland. From previous excursions and visits, she knew the islands were steeped in history and they offered numerous diversions.
    Diversions, her mind echoed, that was what she needed to chase away her sadness, torment, and strange moods. She could do volunteer work and get involved with the arts, as there were numerous social and service organizations available in Brunswick and the Golden