Single Mama's Got More Drama

I resolved not to let Byron get to me. It wasn’t the first time in the past two-and-a-half years that he’d had an attack of conscience and had reached out to Rayna by sending a gift. Then months would pass without a word from him or even an e-mail.

I had a far more pressing matter to deal with. Getting to Cynthia Martin and hearing what she’d learned about Tassie Johnson.

8

I didn’t make it to the Barnes & Noble bookstore until five-thirty. I rushed inside, hoping Cynthia wouldn’t be upset at my tardiness. But when I saw her, she was casually standing near the perimeter of the café with a magazine in her hand.

Seeming to sense me, she looked in my direction. Then smiled.

I returned her smile. I never thought I’d be so happy to see Cynthia Martin, not after how some of her reports after Eli’s murder had made me look in the press. But I couldn’t help being giddy with excitement.

As I strode toward her, she replaced the magazine on the rack.

I’d prayed that she would come through for me, give me some kind of ammunition I could use against Tassie, and it looked like my prayers had been answered.

“Hello,” I said as I reached her, and offered her my hand. “It is so good to see you again.”

Cynthia took my hand and shook it firmly. “It’s good to see you.”

“Sorry I’m a bit late. Traffic.”

“No worries,” she said.

I glanced around the café. There were a number of available seats. “You want something to eat or drink before we sit down?” I asked. “A coffee, a sandwich? I’m buying.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need anything.”

“No, I want to buy you something,” I insisted. “It’s the least I can do.”

“All right, then. I’ll take a latte and a scone.”

I went to order while Cynthia sat at a table where no one was within earshot. A few minutes later, I joined her at the table, setting down two large lattes, her scone and a piece of carrot cake for myself.

After dealing with Byron, I deserved a treat.

I was anxious to ask Cynthia what she’d uncovered. But I decided to let her eat a bit of her scone first while I munched on my carrot cake.

That resolve lasted thirty seconds before I had to speak. “I’m dying here. You said the news is good?”

“Very.” A devious spark lit Cynthia’s eyes.

“How good? Or should I ask—how scandalous?”

Cynthia swallowed a mouthful of coffee before speaking. “Tassie Johnson has been a very bad girl.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning she was far from being a grieving widow.”

My heart was so full of excitement, I thought it might burst. “The guy I saw her with at the funeral. He’s her lover?”

“Ray Carlton,” Cynthia said, nodding. She broke off a morsel of her scone and put it in her mouth.

“I knew it.” I lifted my cup of coffee, but didn’t take a sip. “She had the nerve to talk about Eli being unfaithful while flaunting her lover at her husband’s funeral.”

“It’s worse than you think,” Cynthia said. “Or perhaps I should say better.”

I lowered my coffee cup. “Oh?”

“When I say Tassie Johnson has been a very bad girl, it’s not just because she and Ray are lovers. It’s because of how long they were an item. Long before she and Eli split.”

“How long?”

“Try before she walked down the aisle.”

My eyes narrowed in confusion. “What—like an old boyfriend?”

“Old boyfriends aren’t scandalous. Everyone’s had at least one lover before getting married. I’m guessing the average these days has got to be between ten and twenty other partners, but I don’t have the hard data to support that claim.”

I could care less about the average number of partners a person had before settling down. I moved a hand in a rolling motion to indicate that I wanted Cynthia to continue with the news about Tassie.

Her eyes danced with humor. “But it is scandalous when you marry someone, continue to see your old boyfriend and even have an abortion when you’re still very much living with your husband.”

“Tassie had an abortion!” I couldn’t help exclaiming, then glanced around. A handful of people were suddenly intrigued by my conversation. “Wow, that’s progressive for a soap opera, isn’t it?” I continued loudly, hoping to kill any eavesdroppers’ interest in what I was saying. “I thought people always end up having the baby or miscarrying on those shows. But a real abortion.”

Cynthia edged across the table, and continued speaking in a lower tone. “I’ve got the records to prove it.”

I wanted to jump up and down and scream hallelujah, but I remained seated. Remained calm.

“When?” I asked, keeping my voice down.

“A year and a half after she’d had her first child.”

My excitement fizzled. “Then the baby could have been Eli’s,” I pointed out. “Maybe the timing wasn’t right, and they decided they didn’t want to have another baby.”

“Eh, eh, eh.” Cynthia waved a finger. She was clearly enjoying this, as though she’d always imagined herself being some sort of secret spy. I guess that’s what journalism entailed…to a degree. “It was Ray’s baby.”

“It’ll be my word against hers.”

“But will she be able to explain why her ex-boyfriend took her to the abortion clinic? Why he paid for it with his credit card?”

I gasped, but quickly covered my mouth. “Oh, my God.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So she was having an affair right from the start,” I said quietly. Another revelation hit me. “Do you think she was never in love with Eli? That she married him strictly for his money?”

“If I were a gambling woman, I’d guess exactly that. It doesn’t look like her relationship with Ray has ever waned.”