CHAPTER EIGHT
Beverly Mead knew that she couldn't go on as landlady at the Mead Manor much longer. Apparently, she was discovering, men were thinking of her as some kind of s*x-starved widow who needed s*x. She tried her best to dress in conservative clothing so that she wouldn't give anyone else the idea she was hungry for s*x.
When Don Bradbury, a stockbroker who had a small bachelor unit paid his rent he spoke with her about her late husband Walter.
"I'm sure you miss Mr. Mead a lot," he nodded understandingly.
"You bet I do," she assured him. "Sometimes I feel like crying my eyes out, but I know it won't do any good."
"Maybe you should go to church," he told her. "How nice of you to think of me," she said, shaking her head, "I guess I'm not much of a churchgoer. I try to live i
