Chapter Fourteen
Three peaceful weeks followed Marianne Ridgeway’s week with Friedrich Max. It was summer and the heat of the muggy days made everyone as languid and droopy as the wisteria vines that covered their porches.
After work, Marianne would rock in the swing on the big front porch and drink lemonade, spiked with whiskey. Thomas drank, too, so he didn’t notice his wife’s new means of relaxation. It took the edge off her body heat and the obsession that seemed to lurk in the shadows of these sunny days. What Thomas’s drinking did for him, she wasn’t sure.
Goading her ever-increasing anxiety were more letters from Miklos. One was waiting for her when she came home, and there was a new one every week from the man claiming to be her former lover. If she was to believe the letters,
