Also by Bettye Griffin
A NEW KIND OF BLISS
ONCE UPON A PROJECT
IF THESE WALLS COULD TALK
NOTHING BUT TROUBLE
THE PEOPLE NEXT DOOR
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Trouble Down the Road
BETTYE GRIFFIN
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
In memory of Chet and Micki Morris,
together again,
and
for Harry “Hickey” and Geraldine Pugh,
still together after 57 years
Acknowledgments
Bernard Underwood, Mrs. Eva Mae Griffin. Go, #29!
Elaine English, my wonderful agent.
Kimberly Rowe-Van Allen, my story consultant.
Selena James, my editor. Different editor, same story. I’m late again. (Sigh…)
A few very special readers: Louise Brown, Bridgete Georges, Joy Hicks, Tanya Johnson, Darlene Kramer, Dorothy Lites (also my second cousin), Victoria Owens, April Pugh, Charlotte Robinson, Shelrie Smith, Janet Williams. Thank you!
Bessie Taylor, who scooped up copies of everything I’ve written and insisted on getting a line all to herself. I’ll give you two lines, Bessie!
A few special book club/reading group presidents/founders: Reneé Booker (and all the ladies in the Cozy Corner of Elegance Book Club as well), Yasmin Coleman, Ella Curry, LaShaunda Hoffman, Radiah Hubbert, Tee C. Royal.
A couple of fellow authors who are Really Nice People: Donna Deloney, Marcia King-Gamble, Shelia Goss, Reon Laudat, Sean D. Young.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
A Reading Group Guide
Discussion Questions
Chapter 1
“Aimeriez-vous une autre bière, monsieur?”
Suzanne focused a narrowed gaze on her hostess. She didn’t want some other woman saying anything to her husband that she didn’t understand. She only knew one French phrase, that voulez-vous line from a lyric to an old Labelle song. That translated to the rather tacky proposition, “Will you go to bed with me?” Micheline Trent hadn’t said that to Brad, but judging from that broad smile on her face and the soulful look in her eyes, she might as well have. Suzanne had been in the Trent home for less than thirty minutes, but she already was ready to shove Micheline’s face into the cheese dip that sat in a bowl on the table.
When Micheline disappeared, returning moments later with a can of Miller Genuine Draft, Suzanne figured out what she’d said to Brad. Nothing wrong with offering to refill a guest’s pilsner, but she frowned with tightened lips when Micheline leaned over to pour the beer, the right side of her tailored white blouse falling away from her chest enough to reveal a glimpse of unspectacular cleavage in a scalloped white bra that nonetheless seemed to capture Brad’s attention.
Micheline’s demonstration lasted just a few brief seconds, but every muscle in Suzanne’s body went on alert. To think she’d actually been happy about coming here to watch the Super Bowl. When Brad told her they’d been invited to watch the game at the home of one of the guys from the golf club, she’d been thrilled not to have to spend the evening with their neighbors, Lisa and Darrell Canfield. Suzanne had tried to put a good face on it to appease Brad, but since the Canfields ranked among her least favorite people, she figured anyone’s company would be better than theirs. It looked like she’d been wrong.
And she needed to get the point across to Micheline that Brad Betancourt was a prize that belonged in her box of Cracker Jack.
Suzanne watched as Micheline returned to sit next to her husband, Errol, cozying up to him in an oversized chair that was more like a small love seat; two people could fit on it, provided they didn’t carry too many pounds between them. Without even realizing it, Suzanne moved her hand to rest on Brad’s thigh, as if staking out her territory…or perhaps to try to make up after the words they’d had on the short drive over here.
Her gaze shifted from the uninteresting action playing out on the screen of the large plasma television to her hosts. Micheline’s head rested on Errol’s shoulder, and his arm was draped around her. The affection between them seemed genuine enough. Suzanne reconsidered. Could she have just imagined Micheline’s come-on to Brad? After all, Errol sat right there in the same room, along with five other guests. A person would have to be some kind of idiot to even try to carry on a flirtation with so many witnesses.
Or crafty as hell.
One of the players was running with the football, and everyone in the room either cheered or jeered. Suzanne, who knew nothing about football, took her cue from Brad, who cheered. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Micheline throw her arms around Errol and embrace him. Errol shifted to face her, his hand roaming dangerously high over her thigh, to where the hem of her short denim skirt met her skin. A laughing Micheline playfully smacked it away, with a hiss of, “Later!”
Suzanne began to feel better. Micheline already had a husband who was good-looking, sexy, and successful. She’d probably just wanted to test her French on someone who understood a little of the language. This was Jacksonville, not New York or New Orleans. How many people here spoke French? Even Brad’s knowledge of it was limited to a few basic phrases he’d learned for a trip to Paris they took a few years back. Micheline likely knew no more than he did. And as far as the opportunity Brad had to look