The Chilling Deception Read Online Free

the morning’s light showers to give way to partial clearing. But in typical Seattle fashion the weather had made its own decisions without bothering to consult the local meteorologists. The guy on the evening news would have a brilliant explanation of what had actually happened. In the meantime everyone on First Avenue below Guinevere’s window was getting wet.
    When visitors asked Guinevere how she tolerated the long gray winters and the frequently damp summers of the Northwest, she was always a bit surprised. Sometimes she responded with statistics proving Seattle’s legendary rainfall was actually quite moderate, sometimes she made a joke about having grown webbed feet. But the truth was she rather liked the changeable weather. Normally it was invigorating.
    Today, however, the rain seemed intent on complementing her strangely ambivalent mood. She watched the people in the government office building across the street and decided they all appeared to know where they were going and what they were doing. They all appeared to be motivated by a purpose, a direction, a reason for existence. Perhaps they had finally found a way to balance the federal budget. Perhaps they were scurrying around in an attempt to keep themselves in the budget. Whatever the reason, Guinevere envied them. Most days she was guided by the same sense of sureness, but not today.
    The door of her office opened behind her and Guinevere turned to glance at her sister as she entered. Carla was shaking rain off her fashionable pink and gray umbrella. She looked up, eyeing Guinevere critically, her green eyes speculative. Guinevere wasn’t certain she liked the sisterly speculation but it was a great deal more pleasant than the tragic quality that had recently haunted Carta’s face. She had recovered from the bout of deep depression brought on by a love affair gone wrong. But nothing would ever completely dispel the air of feminine fragility that Carla wore like an aura. Her blond hair, classically delicate features, and gently molded body made that impossible.
    Carla wrinkled her nose in an unconsciously cute movement that called attention to a small sprinkling of freckles. Men were often fascinated by those freckles. They served the function of making an otherwise too attractive woman seem warm and approachable. "For someone who’s about to leave on a three-day vacation, you’re not looking particularly thrilled with life. What’s wrong? Worried about Camelot Services?"
    Guinevere shook her head. "Hardly. When I saw what you did to my files I realized the firm was in good hands. Besides, what could go wrong during a three-day weekend? You’ll be fine."
    "Is that what’s worrying you? Am I getting a little too good at running your precious business?" Carla asked the question with a teasing smile, but there was an underlying concern. "The things I do for you are the things any first-class secretary would do. You should know that. You’ve hired enough first-class secretaries and you’ve been working as one yourself this past week. I certainly don’t want the responsibility of actually owning and operating Camelot Services. I’m not cut out to be the entrepreneurial sort – takes a special breed, and I know it. Some kind of weird cross between a chronic optimist and a chronic worrier."
    "Oh, Carla, don’t be an idiot." Guinevere grimaced wryly. "I’ve been grateful for the help and you know that too. I’m fine, really. Just trying to see if I’ve remembered everything I have to take with me. This isn’t exactly a vacation. I’m going to be working."
    "Uh-huh. Is that why one of the things you’re remembering to take with you is the Frog?"
    Guinevere felt the flush in her cheeks, and it thoroughly annoyed her. "Zac is also going to be working on this trip."
    Carla grinned cheerfully as she hung up her raincoat. "Sure. Working on getting you into bed. He’s only having sporadic success, isn’t he? What’s the score add up to, four or five