The Unkindest Cut - By Honor Hartman Page 0,2

from her coffee.

‘‘Then I have plenty of time to do some house-cleaning before I have to clean myself up,’’ I said. ‘‘My hair is really beginning to get out of control. I should make an appointment to have it cut.’’

Sophie eyed me critically. ‘‘Yes, Emma, you could use a good cut. I wish you’d let me make an appointment for you with my hairdresser.’’

Considering that Sophie usually spent about 150 dollars when she had her hair done, I wasn’t certain I really wanted an introduction to her stylist. It wasn’t the amount, because I could have afforded it. My late husband, Baxter Diamond, had left me handsomely provided for, but something in me rebelled at spending that much money on my hair. Sophie had told me more than once that this was a distinctly unfeminine attitude.

Easily interpreting my lack of response to her offer, Sophie laughed. ‘‘I guess I should know better by now. But one of these days I’m going to kidnap you and take you myself. You ought to let yourself be pampered sometimes, Emma.’’

‘‘If I want pampering,’’ I said, ‘‘I can think of many ways to pamper myself other than by spending that much money on my head.’’

‘‘Like your expensive wardrobe?’’ Sophie arched an eyebrow.

‘‘Ha-ha,’’ I made a face at her. ‘‘You might like to wear the gross national product of Uruguay on your back, but I prefer to pamper myself in other ways. Mostly books.’’

Sophie shook her head. ‘‘You and your first editions. ’’

And Baxter’s, I added silently. I kept adding to the collection of first-edition mysteries that had been Baxter’s pride and joy. For a moment the tears threatened to come, and I turned my head slightly away from Sophie to get myself under control.

‘‘Honey, I’m sorry,’’ Sophie said. ‘‘I really am a cat sometimes, and you know I didn’t mean anything by what I said.’’

‘‘I know,’’ I said, reaching across the table to accept the hand she proffered. I returned her quick squeeze of affection, then withdrew my hand and sat back in my chair. ‘‘It just hits me sometimes.’’

‘‘It hasn’t even been a year yet,’’ Sophie said, her voice soft. ‘‘It takes time.’’

I nodded. Time—day after day, night after night, without my beloved husband. Most of the time I did okay, but every once in a while, the pain hit me so hard I couldn’t do anything except curl up in a tight little ball on the bed and cry myself to exhaustion. Olaf would scrunch up beside me, watching me anxiously, occasionally licking my hand, while Hilda would rub her head against mine. Without them, and without Sophie and my brother and his partner, I think I would have gone completely mad. Marylou was another source of great comfort.

‘‘How do you think we should dress for lunch next door?’’ I said.

Sophie shrugged. ‘‘I don’t think we need to be too formal. I mean, good gracious, it’s just lunch at Marylou’s.’’

‘‘Yes,’’ I said, ‘‘but she’s inviting us to meet her friend, so I think we should make an effort for her sake.’’

Sophie leveled one of her looks at me, and I almost turned red. It wasn’t Sophie that Marylou had to worry about. I held up a hand. ‘‘Okay, message received. I know you’ll be dressed appropriately. But what should I wear? I’m sure you have a suggestion or two.’’

Sophie smiled. ‘‘One of these days I’m going to take you shopping, honey, and we’re going to update that wardrobe of yours. But for today, I think you should wear that lilac sheath with your pearls. It’s understated, not too dressy, and it’s a lovely color on you.’’

‘‘Thank you,’’ I said. Most of the time I preferred to run around in casual clothes, but I did like to look nice when the occasion demanded. I had simply never spent as much time on my appearance as Sophie did. But then I wasn’t beautiful like she was. People often mistook her for a model.

‘‘I suppose I should go home and let you get busy with your cleaning,’’ Sophie said. She rose from her chair. ‘‘I’ll see you at Marylou’s.’’ She waved a hand at me as she exited through the back door.

I spent the next two hours cleaning. First I tackled the bathrooms; next I vacuumed my bedroom and most of the upstairs, and I ended with some dusting. By the time I finished, I was hot, bedraggled, and dusty. A cool shower soon revived me, and I had enough time to dress and do