Secrets and Revelations (Bellingwood #4) by Diane Greenwood Muir Page B
Authors: Diane Greenwood Muir
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Marnie do it at the vet's office. He loves her and licks her hand when she's done. I'll pay for that treatment every day!"
Lydia sat down beside her and they listened to the water and then watched as Beryl strode across the lawn toward them.
"Hey!" she called. "I didn't know where you'd gone. I thought maybe y'all had gone off and left me to fend for myself with all those men and horses."
"I'd never do that," Polly responded. "I like those men and horses. It wouldn't be fair to them."
Beryl stood in front of them and made a shooing movement to Lydia, "Move over. I'm sitting too."
"There's barely room!" Lydia protested.
"There's plenty of room. I'm a skinny wretch and you two are way too comfortable here. Move it."
Polly moved off the bench and sat on the edge of the pond, poised on a large rock.
"You didn't have to get off," Beryl said. "We were going to fit."
"I'm fine," Polly assured her. "As long as the rock doesn't shift and send me into the water, I'm fine."
"Are you ready for the big quilt show? That Cindy Rothenfuss is a pip, isn't she?" Beryl grinned.
"I'm so glad I don't have to deal with her. Jeff is doing all of the organization. What's her deal anyway?"
"She's a bitch," declared Beryl.
Lydia slapped her leg. "Beryl!"
"Well, she is. All she ever does is criticize everything and try to control everyone and she doesn't do a damned thing herself. Does she quilt? No. Does she sing in the choir? No. Does she bake pies? No. She doesn't do a thing, but she thinks her opinions about everything are important because ... well, I don't know why."
"Some people need to find ways to express themselves and that's her way," Lydia said.
"Well, it's a rotten way. I don't know who gave her permission to act like that, but someone should take it away from her. How is she involved with this quilt show anyway?" Beryl asked.
Lydia looked down, "She kind of stole it from Marla Singer. One year, Marla was running things and the next year, she'd gotten shoved out. Cindy flashed around a bunch of money that she'd wrangled out of her husband for prizes and hiring judges and there wasn't anything poor Marla could do."
"See, like I told you. She's a bitch."
"Stop it, Beryl. That's not nice."
"Not nice? I’ll give you not nice. She tried to tell me that one of my paintings was wrong. I told her she could choose not to like my painting, but she couldn't tell me it was wrong. When she decided to paint and enter the market, she would earn the right to have a conversation with me, but until then, she needed to walk away."
"You didn't!" Polly said.
"Look at me," Beryl said. "Do you think I'm lying to you?"
"I guess not. What did she say?"
"She walked away. I was mean enough to donate the painting to the bank where her husband is the president, though. She has to look at it every time she walks in the front door."
Polly snorted with laughter and she saw Lydia's face turn red. "Oh Beryl, I love you! She completely ignored me yesterday and told Jeff she doesn't want Eliseo around her precious quilts. I hope Jeff figures out how to deal with her."
"Maybe someone needs to just run her off the road into a big, deep ditch," Beryl said.
"Now Beryl!" Lydia admonished, "Don't say those things. You'd be upset if something awful happened to her."
Beryl turned her body so as to fully face her friend, "Do you really think I'd be upset?"
Lydia simpered, "Yes?"
"You're right. I probably would, but it might take me a minute to get to that point. She's a mean and nasty woman."
"She is miserable and unhappy. I've tried for years to get to know her and find out what was behind all of that ugliness."
"Of course you have," Beryl said, patting Lydia's knee. "You don't give up on anyone. You need to give up on this one, though. If you can't get through to her, no one can."
"So," Polly said, changing the subject "Something strange came into my email box the other day."
"Was it a puddy tat?" Beryl asked.
"What?" Polly looked at her friend
Lydia sat down beside her and they listened to the water and then watched as Beryl strode across the lawn toward them.
"Hey!" she called. "I didn't know where you'd gone. I thought maybe y'all had gone off and left me to fend for myself with all those men and horses."
"I'd never do that," Polly responded. "I like those men and horses. It wouldn't be fair to them."
Beryl stood in front of them and made a shooing movement to Lydia, "Move over. I'm sitting too."
"There's barely room!" Lydia protested.
"There's plenty of room. I'm a skinny wretch and you two are way too comfortable here. Move it."
Polly moved off the bench and sat on the edge of the pond, poised on a large rock.
"You didn't have to get off," Beryl said. "We were going to fit."
"I'm fine," Polly assured her. "As long as the rock doesn't shift and send me into the water, I'm fine."
"Are you ready for the big quilt show? That Cindy Rothenfuss is a pip, isn't she?" Beryl grinned.
"I'm so glad I don't have to deal with her. Jeff is doing all of the organization. What's her deal anyway?"
"She's a bitch," declared Beryl.
Lydia slapped her leg. "Beryl!"
"Well, she is. All she ever does is criticize everything and try to control everyone and she doesn't do a damned thing herself. Does she quilt? No. Does she sing in the choir? No. Does she bake pies? No. She doesn't do a thing, but she thinks her opinions about everything are important because ... well, I don't know why."
"Some people need to find ways to express themselves and that's her way," Lydia said.
"Well, it's a rotten way. I don't know who gave her permission to act like that, but someone should take it away from her. How is she involved with this quilt show anyway?" Beryl asked.
Lydia looked down, "She kind of stole it from Marla Singer. One year, Marla was running things and the next year, she'd gotten shoved out. Cindy flashed around a bunch of money that she'd wrangled out of her husband for prizes and hiring judges and there wasn't anything poor Marla could do."
"See, like I told you. She's a bitch."
"Stop it, Beryl. That's not nice."
"Not nice? I’ll give you not nice. She tried to tell me that one of my paintings was wrong. I told her she could choose not to like my painting, but she couldn't tell me it was wrong. When she decided to paint and enter the market, she would earn the right to have a conversation with me, but until then, she needed to walk away."
"You didn't!" Polly said.
"Look at me," Beryl said. "Do you think I'm lying to you?"
"I guess not. What did she say?"
"She walked away. I was mean enough to donate the painting to the bank where her husband is the president, though. She has to look at it every time she walks in the front door."
Polly snorted with laughter and she saw Lydia's face turn red. "Oh Beryl, I love you! She completely ignored me yesterday and told Jeff she doesn't want Eliseo around her precious quilts. I hope Jeff figures out how to deal with her."
"Maybe someone needs to just run her off the road into a big, deep ditch," Beryl said.
"Now Beryl!" Lydia admonished, "Don't say those things. You'd be upset if something awful happened to her."
Beryl turned her body so as to fully face her friend, "Do you really think I'd be upset?"
Lydia simpered, "Yes?"
"You're right. I probably would, but it might take me a minute to get to that point. She's a mean and nasty woman."
"She is miserable and unhappy. I've tried for years to get to know her and find out what was behind all of that ugliness."
"Of course you have," Beryl said, patting Lydia's knee. "You don't give up on anyone. You need to give up on this one, though. If you can't get through to her, no one can."
"So," Polly said, changing the subject "Something strange came into my email box the other day."
"Was it a puddy tat?" Beryl asked.
"What?" Polly looked at her friend
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