Pillow Talk by Hailey North Page B

brought you here," Mathilde said in a frigid voice, "but it doesn't speak well of his regard for you that he failed to notify his family of his nuptials."
    Meg heard what Mathilde really meant— that she held Meg responsible for Jules's decision and for the unnaturally rushed marriage. Of course she'd blame Meg rather than Jules now.
    As the dead grew colder, their sins forgotten, forgiveness followed proportionately. Meg had learned that lesson from Ted's parents after his death. Somehow the financial crises of his company and personal life they'd pinned on Meg. She should have done more, been a better wife. Perhaps if she'd gotten a job and helped out, the pressure on Ted wouldn't have been nearly so great. Oh, yes, they might as well have cried out, “You killed our son."
    She shook herself mentally. That was then and this was now. Meg eyed the group and noticed even Dr. Prejean had left Teensy's side to edge closer, as had Kinky. Well, if they were expecting a scene, they were going to be disappointed.
    For once they held silent, waiting no doubt to see if she'd choose to spar with Mathilde. And if she lashed out, that would only give them more reason to lynch her. Parker was studying her. No doubt he was looking to see what fib she'd tell next, hoping for something he could catch her on. Something like “Oh, we've been lovers for years and just now decided to marry.''
    Meg said slowly, “Jules thought you would find his marriage a"—she almost stumbled, then continued with—"pleasant surprise. He intended to introduce me … " then she did trail off. She'd almost said "at the family meeting."
    What a faux pas that would have been! Parker would have known in a heartbeat Jules had been intent on using Meg to help him maneuver against his brother in the Ponthier's business dealings.
    "Introduce you when?" To her relief the grandfather snapped out the question rather than Parker. But she felt his gaze probing her every expression.
    "Today." Meg lifted her hands and let them flutter in a gesture of surrender.
    Across the room, Teensy broke into a sobbing wail. "B-but he can't because he's d-dead!"
    Meg nodded, lowering her head and dabbing at her eyes. She wasn't actually crying but next to Teensy's sodden display of grief she didn't think she'd be too believable as a grieving widow if she didn't at least try to show some emotion.
    She hadn't cried when her husband of twelve years died so she didn't find it at all surprising that she felt no tendency to shed tears at Jules's regrettable ending.
    Amelia Anne moved forward and lifted one hand timidly toward Meg's shoulder. "There, there," she said, "we know it must be a painful loss."
    "Really, Amelia Anne," Mathilde said, "I don't see that you need to concern yourself so with this matter."
    Amelia Anne dropped her hand and shrank back beside her mother.
    Meg raised her head and smiled at Amelia Anne. She wouldn't forget the woman's instinctive kindness. There had been a few people like that in her growing-up years; people whose hearts had led them to extend friendship to an orphan knocked about from foster home to foster home then plopped back in the girls' home. And she'd met more than her share of Aunt Mathildes, those paragons of propriety whose hearts bled lumps of coal.
    "I know everyone here has suffered a great loss. Jules was woven into the fabric of your lives." She glanced over at Dr. Prejean, who'd returned to Teensy's side and was standing with an arm draped around her shoulders. His plea was the reason she'd consented to come to the house and continue this charade. "I'll do whatever I can to help in any way."
    Mathilde looked down her nose. Meg just knew the woman was itching to say something cutting, perhaps something like "the only help you want to offer is to take away Jules's money." But breeding required her to hold such comments inside. Well, Meg hoped her uncharitable thoughts caused her a nasty stomachache.
    She liked to tell her kids that thinking