"Yvonne Navarro - Zachary's Glass Shope2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Navarro Yvonne)

no
one but him.
In his heart, Channing lowered his lips to Adrienne's.



Breakfast, scalding Spanish coffee and bacon croissants served on the patio,
would have been perfect if the wrong woman hadn't sat across the table. Ah,
well, Channing thought and smiled as the butler brought him the paper, I
suppose
you take the good with the bad. The weather was unseasonably warm and he
enjoyed
feeling the sun on his face.
"What are you smiling about, dear?" Miranda asked. She had on those damnable
granny glasses again, perched on the tip of her nose as she flipped through a
copy of Self. Someday he hoped to see them fall into her coffee. And he hated
it
when she called him dear.
"Nothing, Miranda," he said, losing some of his contentment. "Just enjoying
the
day." Channing opened the newspaper and scanned a couple of pages without
interest; it was hard to concentrate with her sitting there staring at him
and
he felt his appetite wane. His eyes stopped at a morbid photograph that showed
a
dark bodybag next to the twisted wreck of a car. The paragraph accompanying
it
was sadly simple.
First grade teacher and mother of four, Sandra Wheatley was killed on her
way to Blaine Elementary School early this morning. According to police,
a
truck driver returning from an overnight run fell asleep and crossed the
center line, striking Mrs Wheatley's car in the left front. The truck
driver
was treated for minor injuries at Wellington Masonic Hospital and
released
with a citation for careless driving.
Channing couldn't help but notice the woman's initials -- S W. Had they been
transposed, he might be worried; besides, he'd seen Miranda put the glass
frame
safely away. Right now, he could still feel his wife's staring eyes and he
put
down the paper in exasperation.
"Miranda," he said irritably, "you've been watching me all morning. What's
the
problem?"
She dropped her gaze obediently and picked at the tablecloth. "I'm sorry,
Channing. I didn't mean to stare like that. It's just that, well..."
"What?" he asked. "It's just what?"
"I did so like your anniversary present," she said. "I don't know how to say