A Familiar Tail Read Online Free PDF

champagne. People had been happy here, my sparkly feelings told me. People cared for this place, loved and nurtured it. A stupid grin spread across my face before I got a handle on it.
    Even without the emotional booster shot, the room was beautiful. The French doors had been opened to let in the morning sun as well as the fresh breeze that blew across the garden and the broad back porch. All the furnishings were simple, sturdy and comfortable. The curving corner alcove with its built-in bookcases and deep chairs looked like the perfect place to curl up on a rainy evening. I thought longingly of the pencils and drawing pad back in my room. I particularly wanted to do a detail of the elaborate chandelier hanging from the smooth white ceiling, and a close-up of the carved mantelpiece.
    â€œI may never leave,” I said to myself.
    At least, I thought it was to myself, but a laugh came from out on the porch, and Valerie appeared at the threshold, carrying a silver coffeepot. “Thank you. I’ll tell Roger you said that. He’s in the kitchen now, getting breakfast together. But the buffet’s set and the coffee”—she hefted the carafe—“is ready. Or do you prefer tea?”
    â€œCoffee would be great.”
    This turned out to be an understatement. The brew Valerie poured smelled not so much like coffee as like the anticipation of paradise normally associated with your finer chocolates.
    â€œAaaaahhhhh!” I sighed happily as I wrapped my hands around the warm mug.
    Valerie grinned. “It’s serve yourself today.” She gesturedtoward the buffet tables that took up one side of the porch. “Unless you’d like some eggs?”
    â€œThanks, but this looks perfect.”
    Is there a phase beyond perfect? If so, it surely comes with homemade pastry, granola, yogurt and fresh berries. Carafes of juice and milk had been set out in ice trays, alongside several pots of that wonderful coffee, not to mention a chafing dish from which rose the mouthwatering and unmistakable scent of bacon. I wouldn’t need to move for a week.
    Then it got better.
    â€œMake a hole! I got grunt!”
    A tall blond man backed out of a screen door carrying a cast-iron skillet in his oven-mitted hands. Valerie slapped a cork trivet onto the buffet so he could set it down. The pan was filled with golden brown biscuits floating on a dark bubbling liquid that smelled of berries and cinnamon. My nose thought it smelled divine. My stomach agreed.
    â€œTraditional New England blackberry grunt!” announced the man, stripping off his oven mitts. His white apron had the words BACK OFF, MAN, I’M THE CHEF emblazoned on the chest. “Welcome to McDermott’s! I’m Roger, and you must be Miss Britton.”
    â€œAnna.” We shook hands and I beamed. I liked this guy already, and it was clear from the indulgent way Valerie brushed at the flour smear on his suntanned arm, she was soppy in love.
    â€œNow, you have to try this,” Roger said. I recognized that tone from meals with Martine and knew better than to attempt refusal. Not that it would have been a serious attempt. He scooped out one of the biscuits along with healthy spoonfuls of blackberry goodness. “It’s even better if you do this.” He snatched up a pitcher of cream from the coffee station and poured a circle around the biscuit. “There you go.”
    He watched anxiously as I dug out a spoonful of warm berries, cream and biscuit.
    â€œOh. My.” I rolled my eyes in sensuous appreciation. Valerie and Roger slapped palms in an energetic high five.
    â€œUmm . . . would either of you care to join me?” I mumbled, only a little awkwardly around a second mouthful.
    â€œWhy don’t you sit, Val?” said Roger. “You’re supposed to get off your feet more, and I’ve got everything under control.”
    I did not imagine that Valerie looked awkward. I tried to keep any