Brine Read Online Free PDF Page B

Ishmael poured wine into the mug she had found. “I need more time to think things through.”
    “But you’re just creating a bigger mess with every moment you avoid this. You’re snowballing here, darling.”
    Ishmael was running out of excuses. She walked over to the couch and sat down, sipping her wine.
    “I’m in a different place,” she said.
    “Ain’t that the truth. You look like you’re in the military,” Diane said.
    “I think she looks pretty hot,” Allen said from the kitchen. “Seriously. Very Sinead O’Connor. Nothing compares to you, Ish.” Diane rolled her eyes.
    “If that doesn’t make you want to go running back to your fiancé, I don’t know what will.” Diane looked more intently at Ishmael. “You sure you know what you’re doing here, darling? You’re positive?”
    “Positive. Nicholas wouldn’t understand.”
    Diane tossed up her hands. “No use beating a dead horse. I can see you don’t love him.” Diane joined Ishmael on the couch. “And—well, I probably shouldn’t say this because I’m not really sure what you’re up to, darling, but—you’ve got my vote.” Diane patted Ishmael’s leg once and then added, “I’ve never been a huge fan of those Santorinis.” She pouted. “Broke my little ole Captain Harry’s heart when he found out you were marrying into that family. Harry thought you better suited for a man’s man, if you know what I mean.” Diane winked at Ishmael. “Less hair gel. More pickup truck.”
    Ishmael leaned back against the pillows on the couch. “Nicholas doesn’t use hair gel.”
    Diane dismissively patted Ishmael on the thigh.
    “So, darling, let’s get back to the real question of what in the hell you’re doing here? Alive ?”

7
    DIANE’S PHONE ERUPTED FROM HER PURSE with a flamboyant southern rock ringtone. She peered at the caller id. “Damn- nation ! I’ve got to take this,” she said, ducking out of the room onto the landing at the top of the stairs.
    “Hello?” Her voice trilled with professional politeness. “Oh, yes, yes. This is she. Oh, I know . We had the reservation on the books, but . . .”
    Ishmael slid onto a barstool in the kitchen.
    “Hey—do you remember the first time you met my dad?” she asked.
    “Ish, I really don’t—” He caught the look on her face. “Of course. I’d just moved here.”
    “You were the first person to make him smile since Mom was gone.”
    “Your dad and I were the dawn patrol duo. Surfed together every morning.”
    He smiled at the memory as he flipped strips of bacon in the skillet with metal tongs. She set her mug down on the counter, her fingers still tucked into the familiar handle. Being back in this apartment, with Allen cooking for her, made emotions swirl in her chest.
    “You were my first real crush,” she said. She only slightly regretted admitting this.
    “Oh, yeah?” he asked, the dimple reappearing. “The others weren’t real?”
    “There was only one before you. And I was just a kid.” She paused a moment too long, staring at him.
    “You were older, and that was cool when I was young,” she said. “Then I found out you’d been a priest. Made you a good guy. And the fact that you’d left the priesthood, well, that made you kind of a bad guy. It was the perfect balance.”
    She swirled the liquid in her mug.
    “But what you did with my dad. That sealed the deal.”
    He was pensive for a moment, staring down at the frying pan. “Your dad had a hard time letting go of your mom,” he said.
    “He really loved her.”
    He cracked eggs into a bowl and started whisking them. “That’s why I’m here.” She leaned in. “Allen, I think my mom might still be alive.”
    He paused briefly, his expression ambiguous, and then went back to whisking eggs.
    “I never told you this—I never told anybody this—but after my mom’s disappearance, my dad told me she wasn’t dead.” He looked up at her.
    “He told me my mom swam off into the sunset.”
    He