A Family Affair Read Online Free PDF Page B

this street
were older, larger, more dignified, with scattered roof peaks, high
shuttered windows, and grand porches. They spoke of memories,
family and tradition, some with sturdy pillars along the front
porch, others boasting wide steps and wider walkways. She was drawn
to one half-way down that had pillars and walkways, crisp white
with black shutters, an expanse of window spreading up and out,
covering first and second stories. The number above the door read
1167 Artisdale.
    She parked the BMW and shut off the engine.
Holly bushes filled the front beds, scatterings of evergreens
clustered in between. To the right, blocking the tan house next
door, stood a copse of pine trees, draped in white. Two wind
chimes, one a Christmas tree, painted bright red and green, the
other a snowman, plastered in white, hung from the porch, dangling
rhythms of sound and sequence.
    She should have sketched brief pointers for
this meeting, a flow chart of sorts, similar to what she did when
she analyzed stocks. Her stomach clenched, bits of sweet roll
rising to the middle of her throat. What was there to analyze? Her
father had kept a mistress named Lily Desantro at 1167 Artisdale,
and this was most likely where he’d come during his monthly trips,
not the cabin in Tristan with its ringed sink and empty
refrigerator.
    Maybe Uncle Harry had the right idea after
all; never settle for one, just plow through them like a tractor in
a field of hay, one after the other; multiple, meaningless
relationships.
    She took a deep breath and opened the car
door.
     

Chapter 4
     
    Nate Desantro thought about ignoring the
doorbell and would have if he thought his mother wouldn’t try to
get out of bed and answer it herself. Why couldn’t everybody just
leave them alone, mind their own business, not his family’s?
    He couldn’t count the number of people who’d
been here since the accident, well wishers offering fresh baked
rolls, wedding soup, baked ham with pineapple and cloves. What
about peace and quiet? Did any of those do-gooders ever think about
offering that? His mother needed rest not a crowd of people
hovering over her. He’d kicked them all out last night. Lily hadn’t
liked that.
    In another week or so he’d be able to get
back to his own place, back to seclusion, where the loudest noise
at night was a flip between a screech owl and a log crackling on
the fire. Just the way he liked it. The majority of the human
species was nothing but an annoying intrusion on his state of mind
and other than the times when he had to interact with them, he
preferred to be alone. Of course, family didn’t fit into that
category, just everyone else. His mother said he was afraid to open
up after what happened three years ago. She was wrong; he didn’t
care about Patrice anymore, didn’t even think about her, not since
the day the sheriff delivered the divorce papers. Nate heard she
was remarried to some bank president in Palm Springs, drove a Lexus
now. Probably silver; she’d always had a fondness for silver.
    The doorbell rang again, twice, rapid
staccato. “Hold on, hold on.” Damn intrusive busy bodies. He
reached the front door, preparing the same speech he told all the
well-wishers. She’s fine . . . needs her rest . . . she’ll be in
touch when she’s up to it. She’d be furious if she had an inkling
that he was blowing off people like Father Reisanski and Judge
Tommichelli, but hell, did she have to be best friends with half
the town?
    He opened the door.
    It was her.
    “ Hello. I’m looking for . .
.”
    Her voice was softer than he’d imagined, more
breathy . . .
    “ . . . this is a bit
awkward . . . “
    Her eyes were bluer than her picture . .
.
    “ Lily Desantro. Is she
here?”
    That brought him around fast. “Who are you?”
Stupid question, but damn if he’d let on he knew who she was.
    She hesitated, a split second extra air
exchange. “Christine Blacksworth. I’m . . . are you Nate
Desantro?”
    He said nothing. Let her