Cathleen Connors - A Home Of Her Own

Gratitude flowed from every pore of Melodie’s body. “I’d be eternally grateful. It shouldn’t take me too long to say my final goodbyes.”

Without Buck at her side, Melodie suddenly felt as vulnerable as Lady Godiva. Instead of covering up, however, she lifted her chin proudly in the air and stood her ground as he made his way out the door. Hurt by the reaction of those she’d long considered her friends, Melodie decided if anyone wanted to talk to her, they could darn well take the initiative to approach her.

She didn’t recognize the tailored, painstakingly coiffed woman making a beeline straight for her. Perhaps they had gone to school together. The passage of time certainly hadn’t helped her limited ability to remember names and faces any.

The lovely redhead confirmed her suspicions. “You don’t know me,” she said in a polite, tight voice. “But I think I should introduce myself.”

“Were you a friend of my mother?” Melodie asked.

“No.”

That single word hung between them, flapping like a red flag hung out to dry on a blustery day. Melodie raised an eyebrow in confusion. Why would someone who knew neither her nor her mother attend the funeral? Intuition kept her from extending the woman her hand. She had a funny feeling she might just withdraw with a bloody stump if she did.

“I’m Judy Roes,” the lady stated with a smile that went no deeper than her lipstick. Green eyes glittered with disdain as they perused Melodie from head to toe.

Melodie shook her head apologetically. “Sorry. The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

Pushing a manicured hand through her hair, the woman responded in a voice so sweet one could have glazed a Christmas ham with it. “I don’t believe for a minute that Buck hasn’t mentioned me.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Melodie explained, “We really haven’t had much time to visit.”

As Judy Roes chewed on this bit of information, Melodie came to realize that they were the focal point of everyone’s attention. It seemed every eye in the room was staring at them. She apparently was the only one in the dark as to this woman’s identity and purpose.

“Look,” Melodie said, jumping to the first reasonable explanation that popped into her head. “If you’re interested in buying my mother’s estate, I’m not selling. And certainly not today.”

It was hard to imagine the gall of some people. She liked to think that decency would keep the buzzards from circling for at least a couple of days.

Judy threw her head back as if Melodie had slapped her. Her eyes narrowed into thin cat slits as she hissed, “I’m not interested in buying anything. I’m Buck’s fiancée!”

Melodie pasted a cardboard smile on her face and ventured a weak, “Congratulations.”

What did it matter that the woman had just run a bayonet through her gut? Courtesy demanded a polite exchange before any public execution. She wondered whether contact lenses were responsible for turning the woman’s emerald eyes such an impossible color. Better that than jealousy.

Judy pulled a smile tight over blinding white teeth. “I’m truly sorry about your mother. Hopefully it won’t take you long to get your things in order so you can move on.”

“It might take a little time to get my life in order, if that’s what you’re asking,” Melodie admitted candidly.

The smile affixed to Judy’s face didn’t reach her eyes. “That’s a shame. I was hoping you wouldn’t have to stick around here long. After living in that big southwestern mansion we’ve all heard so much about, it must be humbling to come back to your poor roots.”

Melodie bristled at the remark. “Actually it’s wonderful to be home,” was her only response.

She couldn’t imagine how Judy managed to widen that painful smile. Perhaps for the benefit of the crowd Buck’s fiancée thought she could mask the undercurrent of animosity flowing between them with those blinding-white teeth.

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