Beachcombers Read Online Free PDF Page B

the stairs, she yanked out her cell phone and punched in Carrie's number. Carrie was always at home with her baby and eager for adult company.
    "Hey, Carrie, I thought I'd come over for a while."
    "Hallelujah! I haven't had a real conversation all day. And Tommy's going to be out fishing until dark."
    "Need anything? Wine, pizza?"
    "If I have to eat another pizza, I'll go mad. So will Tommy. I never seem to have the time or energy to shop for real food, let alone cook it."
    "Tell you what, I'll stop at the grocery store and pick up some pasta and mussels and clams and fresh parsley. You have olive oil and garlic, right?"
    "I do. You're going to cook dinner for me?"
    "I can't do anything fancy, but I can do a mean pasta with seafood."
    "I utterly love you. I will give you my firstborn child. Really."
    Lily laughed. "See you soon."
    6

    Abbie
    A fter their naps, Emma and Abbie sat on the back deck, sipping red wine, enjoying the soft evening air. Emma wore khaki shorts and a loose cotton shirt and her brown curls frizzed because she hadn't blown her hair dry.
    Abbie had napped and showered and pulled on an old sundress she found in her closet. Her head buzzed with jet lag and her stomach grumbled.
    "Where's Lily?" Abbie wondered. She hooked a wicker stool with her toes and dragged it over to rest her feet on. "Has she organized anything for dinner?"
    "I have no idea," Emma replied listlessly.
    Emma weighed less than Abbie had ever seen her, and she had dark circles under her eyes. She'd always been organized, energetic, determined. It was just wrong, having her seem so defeated. Abbie considered her next words carefully, then said, "Lily's worried about you, and I can see why."
    Emma twitched in her chair. "I'm fine."
    "Yeah, I can tell."
    "I'm not going to pull a Mom, if that's what you're worried about."
    "You'd better not!" Abbie glared at her sister. "Suck it up, Emma. It will get better."
    "Will it? I don't know. I don't even care."
    "But you will. You'll get over it. Lots of people--"
    "How do you know?" Emma shifted in her chair so she could zing a glance at Abbie. "When have you ever made yourself vulnerable to a man? When have you ever lost your heart?"
    "Get back, Jack!" Abbie said. "For your information, I've been involved a few times."
    "Really."
    "Really."
    At the same moment, Abbie and Emma turned away from each other and took a huge swallow of wine. Aware of their parallel actions, they both laughed.
    "So why did you never tell me about any of them?" Emma asked.
    "I don't know. I'll admit I never was really serious about anyone." She studied Emma. "How long are you planning to stay here?"
    "Planning?" Emma snorted. "I honestly don't know. I can't think about it. Hell, I can scarcely move. Plus, it's not like investment firms are searching for young brokers. I'm worthless, you know?"
    "Don't say that!" Abbie snapped. "You're not worthless."
    "I am, though. It's the truth. Might as well face it."
    "Oh, Emma--" A movement at the end of the garden caught Abbie's eye. "Is that The Dreaded Seductress?"
    For a moment they were silent, like hunters spotting prey. The woman came out of the Playhouse with a clear plastic bag in her hand, walked around the garage to the other side where the trash barrels were kept, and returned empty-handed. She was short, slender, and blond, but they were too far away to tell whether or not she was pretty. She wore khaki shorts and a black tee shirt.
    "She looks pretty normal to me," Abbie observed quietly. "Have you met her?"
    "I haven't," Emma said. "I don't especially want to."
    "You don't especially want to do anything," Abbie reminded her.
    "That's true."
    The woman didn't seem to notice them. She walked around the Playhouse, studying it, stopping here and there, nodding to herself.
    "What's she doing?" Abbie whispered.
    "Well, I don't know, do I?" Emma frowned. "Maybe she's going to paint the trim? It certainly needs it."
    "But why would she paint the trim? She's only renting. How