Today's Reading
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Temperance
Dr. Temperance Madigan had slept for only four of the past twenty-eight hours, kept on her feet by stubborn resistance to the limits of human biology and a truly indecent amount of hospital break-room coffee. Even on a normal day, sleep was low on her list of priorities. But today wasn't a normal day. Today, she was an accomplice to a marriage proposal between two of the people she loved most in the world.
The Brady property was on one of the high points in Vesper Valley, up a gravel lane on a ridge barely wide enough for two cars in either direction. Through the patchwork of trees out her driver's-side window, the midday sun was a smoky gold shimmer on the lake nestled in the crook of the vale. At the top of the drive, a tall wrought-iron gate sat rusted permanently open, more of a trellis for morning glory and honeysuckle than a barrier to entry.
Passing from the shade of the tree-lined lane onto the main drive of the Brady land always felt a little like emerging into a new world. Temperance had to squint against the flood of sunlight. Under a May-blue sky, rolling lawns of soft grass and clover spread up and away, marked with mow lines as tidy as green corduroy.
The Brady home sat at the center, a medley of architectural styles that reflected its century of different inhabitants. It should have looked strange, with its brick to the west and the stone face to the east, its different-shaped windows and mismatched shingles on the roof of each wing. The composite of varied but equally interesting parts only added to its charm. Like the Brady family itself.
The place was usually alive with activity—a far-off hum of lawn equipment, music through open windows and screen doors. Rowan zipping around in her little utility vehicle or a tractor, and her vineyard crew buzzing like bees in and out of the trellised grapes. Now, it was preternaturally silent. Like the land itself had taken a big breath and held it. Waiting.
At Harry's request, Temperance drove the gravel access road along the eastern perimeter of the property to avoid being seen from the vineyards or the house. The bumpy road took her past the massive stone bank barn, around the pool and pool house that seemed to be a perpetual source of plumbing problems, and up to where the old Victorian greenhouse sat on the highest point of the land like the center jewel in a crown. Temperance pulled around to the grassy clearing behind the greenhouse and parked her car next to the only other vehicle there. A hulking black pickup with its windows all the way down. Aviator sunglasses hooked over the rearview mirror.
Duncan was here.
Temperance's belly gave a little thump.
A faded pink bandage was still stuck to a shallow dent on the rear bumper. Temperance had been there that day, when one of the Brady kids let their bike fall too close to the truck. Little Grey had attempted to "make it better" with one of his sister's Band-Aids.
For almost a month, Duncan Brady had unabashedly driven his big growly pickup all over the valley with Hello Kitty faces stuck to the bumper.
Again, something inside her felt noisy and hot. She ignored it and got out of her car.
Temperance started to sweat the moment she stepped out of the air- conditioned microclimate of her tidy little Corolla. Even though it was only four days into May, temperatures had already climbed into the high eighties. It had been a record wet spring as well, so the humidity was problematic. With the back of her hand, she swiped her damp jaw and nudged her glasses up. A bead of sweat raced down the center of her chest.
She should've worn a different bra.
The heavy greenhouse door was half-open. Its hinges groaned when she pushed through. "Harry?"
No answer.
Hesitantly, she said, "Duncan?"
Temperance knew Duncan wasn't inside the greenhouse even before she called out his name. After nearly twenty years, she was attuned to the man's presence the same way a songbird knew it was about to storm. He was neurochemically branded into her brain.
God, it was hot.
...
