The Woman Next Door
THE NEW NEIGHBOR MOVED IN NEXT door to Zona right before Thanksgiving. Belinda Burns was middle-aged, pleasantly plump, and pretty. She was recently widowed, new to the area.
“I’ve lost two husbands,” she shared with Louise and Zona as they sat in Zona’s living room, eating sugar cookies and drinking tea.
“I’m so sorry,” said Louise. “Do you mind me asking what happened?”
“My first husband died at fifty-four. He had a heart attack.”
“I’m so sorry,” Zona said.
“What about your second husband?” asked Louise.
Zona suddenly felt uneasy.
“I’m afraid he died quite tragically. It was our second anniversary, and we were on a cruise.”
“Oh, no. What happened?” said Louise. She leaned forward, all ears.
Oh, good Lord. Zona raised two eyebrows, sending Louise a message. Cut it out.
Louise refused to look her way.
“Food poisoning, I’m afraid,” said Belinda.
“Food poisoning,” Louise echoed. “How awful.”
It was time to change the subject. “How about another cookie?” Zona said, reaching for the plate.
“Oh, no. They were delicious, but I should be going,” said their guest. “I still have so much to unpack.”
“I bet she does,” said Louise when Zona returned from seeing her to the door. “Stocks, bonds, all kinds of things she probably inherited after two husbands conveniently died. Did you see the size of those rocks on her hands?”
“Mom!”
“You have to admit, it’s all very suspicious,” said Louise.
Zona sighed. Oh, boy. Here they went again.
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