Chapter Two
After three glasses of wine, Desie could no longer pretend to be following her
husband's account of the canned rhinoceros hunt. Across the table she appraised
Palmer Stoat as if he were a mime. His fingers danced and his mouth moved, but
nothing he said reached her ears. She observed him in two dimensions, as if he
were an image on a television screen: an animated middle-aged man with a slight
paunch, thin blond hair, reddish eyebrows, pale skin, upcurled lips and
vermilion-splotched cheeks (from too much sun or too much alcohol). Palmer had a
soft neck but a strong chiseled chin, the surgical scars invisible in the low
light. His teeth were straight and polished, but his smile had a twist of
permanent skepticism. To Desie, her husband's nose had always appeared too small
for his face; a little girl's nose, really, although he insisted it was the one
he'd been born with. His blue eyes also seemed tiny, though quick and bright
with self-confidence. His face was, in the way of prosperous ex-jocks, roundish
and pre-jowly and companionable. Desie wouldn't have called Stoat a hunk but he
was attractive in that gregarious southern frat-boy manner, and he had
overwhelmed her with favors and flattery and constant attention. Later she
realized that ... read full excerpt from: SICK PUPPY ebook
