Secrets Never Die

Chapter 3

While Trudy's life was beginning to fracture through her carefully constructed glass walls, the current ladies of Caldwell Cove had gathered in Deedee's kitchen. As they sipped their glasses of wine, the rich aroma of aged grapes mingled with the subtle undertones of oak, enveloping them in a sensory embrace that heightened the atmosphere of intrigue.

The ladies were doing what Caldwell Cove's finest do best... chatted. Yes, it would appear to be gossip to many onlookers, but to Sherry, Deedee, and Angie, it was an art form. Their bodies leaned forward, drawn by the gravitational pull of whispered secrets and tantalizing gossip. Each word hung in the air like a delicate thread, weaving a tapestry of speculation and suspicion that bound them together in a shared pursuit of knowledge. Even Sherry broke her impeccable posture to lean into the hushed whispers. Proper chatting always happened in hushed tones, for, as the ladies knew all too well, one never knew who was peering at them from their kitchen window nor who could be listening.

"His name is Adam, and he grew up here," Sherry announced, her voice a melodic blend of curiosity and satisfaction. She savored her chardonnay, relishing the crisp taste that danced upon her tongue like a symphony of flavors. "Apparently, he was good friends with Bradley when they were young."

Angie leaned in, her eyes alight with anticipation. "I heard he was seen visiting Miss Trudy," she added, her words a delicate brushstroke upon the canvas of conversation.

Sherry's eyes widened at the revelation, a spark of recognition flickering behind her gaze. "Heard from who?" she inquired, her tone tinged with intrigue.

"Kelly Small saw him head that way after the wake," Angie revealed, her voice a whisper that carried the weight of revelation. "And we all saw how Bradley escorted him in personally today."

The implications hung heavy in the air, each word a stone cast into the pond of speculation. Deedee's wineglass clinked against the table as she set it down, the sound punctuating the gravity of the situation.

"No, it couldn't be. We would know if Miss Trudy had a son," she protested, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Sherry's gaze lingered on Deedee, her mind already racing with plans and possibilities. "We have to get to Bradley," she declared, the urgency palpable in her voice.

Deedee hesitated, her brow furrowed in uncertainty. "Me? No. You go, Sherry," she insisted, her resolve wavering in the face of potential confrontation.

But Sherry shook her head, a determined glint in her eyes. "He wouldn't let me past the front door," she countered, her tone resolute. "Trust me; there are two types of neighbors in this world: those who invite you in and those who take the goods and slam the door."

Deedee sighed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of responsibility. "Well, what if he slams the door in my face?" she lamented, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Angie's gaze drifted down to Deedee's v-neck t-shirt, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Trust me," she assured, her words laced with innuendo. "He will not slam the door in your... face." As she spoke, she refilled Deedee's already full glass of wine, the amber liquid sloshing gently against the sides as if in agreement.

Deedee sucked in an annoyed breath and downed half her glass before begrudgingly agreeing. She swallowed the rest of the glass in one gulp before she found herself crossing the darkened street to the warm glow of my old home. Through the window, Deedee caught a glimpse of a baseball game playing on the television. She drank in another deep breath, this time to steady her spinning head. Was it racing from the task ahead of her, or was it the wine? Either way, the result was a childish giggle escaping from her lips before she mustered a confident knock. She took a mental note of the confidence, as Sherry would have been pleased.