Honey and Smoke Read Online Free Page B

she was trying to wither him, not flatter him.
    He nodded to her; she responded with a frosty smile. As Scarlett and Rhett plodded up the aisle Max did a brief mental inventory of the information he’d garnered on Betty Quint today. The merchants in town claimed that she was outgoing, businesslike, and very nice.
    She’d moved here a month ago, buying the old family home and fifty acres of meadow and woodland along with it. She’d grown up in Atlanta—her father, John Quint, had left Webster Springs as a young man and made a fortune in the Atlanta real estate market.
    She was an award-winning barbecue caterer, and she was going to continue that business as well as run her restaurant in town. She was eight years younger than he, definitely single, and she lived alone—except for the stealth cat—in her ramshackle new home.
    Max drew his attention away from her as Scarlett and Rhett reached the end of the aisle and stopped, their hands clasped together tightly, their young faces shining with a mixture of anticipation and awkwardness. Norma hit the last notes of the wedding march, then sat with her dark hands folded patiently on the lap of her blue woolen dress, a solemn expression on her face.
    Max married the couple with style, embellishing the official wording of the legal language with some quotes from Oriental philosophy he’d picked up during an assignment in Japan. He suppressed a yawn as he talked about blooming together in perfect harmony. He was proud of his wit. By merely changing the lotus-blossomreferences to dogwood blossoms, he gave the quotes a southern flavor.
    The couple exchanged rings, smiled tearfully at each other, and kissed for about five minutes after he pronounced them husband and wife. Max glanced over their heads at Betty Quint and found a pensive, unguarded expression on her face. She was watching Scarlett and Rhett, her head tilted to one side, her mouth set in a sad bow.
    Her sentimental attitude puzzled Max. He wondered if she’d been married once and was musing over unhappy memories. Or that maybe she found it sad to watch two fresh-faced youngsters throw themselves into a partnership that would probably fall apart when they matured.
    But when the pair tromped back down the aisle to the accompaniment of Norma’s organ music, Betty Quint bounded up and opened the parlor doors for them, then stood aside and smiled at them as they went into the anteroom.
    Max stared a moment, then regained his concentration. “There will be a brief reception,” he told the couple’s friends. “Please follow the bride and groom to the After—To the reception room to the right.”
    As the guests hurried out Max continued to watch Betty Quint. His concentration was still muddled—he’d almost called the reception room by his private name for it. The Aftershock Bunker.
    “Nice job,” Norma allowed to Max. She turned her stout frame on the organ bench and smiled mischievously at Betty Quint. “Come on in, Betty. You interested in making an appointment?”
    Max watched with fascination as Betty blinked tears away, straightened, and became neutral again. She smiled at Norma. “I’m just an innocent spectator. I had to see this for myself. I hope you don’t mind.” Her gaze switched to Max. “I considered the mushroom basket a kind of invitation.”
    “Glad to have you.” He nodded and stepped down offthe platform as she walked up the aisle. There was something compelling about the structured man-meeting-woman design of the aisle; he felt as if she were being directed to him, and he found himself unable to look away from her somber gray eyes.
    “What did you think?” he asked bluntly. She came to a stop and stood looking up at him with intense scrutiny, as if trying to read his mind.
    “I think you don’t take your position very seriously. You’re encouraging people to make fun of a very profound moment in their lives.” She glanced at Norma. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bishop. Don’t hold this