Everything to Gain Read Online Free PDF

irrevocably.
    Nor did I know then that it was this house which would rescue me from the destructiveness within myself. It would become my haven, my refuge from the world. And in the end it would save my life.
    But because I knew none of this at that moment, I walked blithely on down the gallery and into the kitchen, happy at the prospect of the holiday weekend ahead, lighthearted and full of optimism about my life and the future.
    Automatically, I turned on the radio and listened to the morning news while I stood toasting a slice of bread and drinking a cup of coffee I had made earlier. I studied a long list of chores I had made the night before and mentally planned my day. Then, once I had eaten the toast, I ran upstairs to take a shower and get dressed.
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    CHAPTER THREE
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    I have red hair, green eyes, and approximately two thousand freckles. I don't think I'm all that pretty, but Andrew does not agree with me. He is forever telling me that I'm beautiful. But, of course, beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, so I've been told, and anyway, Andrew is prejudiced, I have to admit that.
    All I know is that I wish I didn't have these irritating freckles. If only my skin were lily-white and clear, I could live with my vivid coloring. My unruly mop of auburn curls has earned me various nicknames over the years, the most popular being Ginger, Carrot Top, and Red, none of which I have ever cherished. Quite the opposite, in fact.
    Since I have always been somewhat disdainful of my mother's preoccupation with self, I have schooled myself not to be vain. But I suspect that secretly I am, and just as much as she is, if the truth be known. But then I think that most people are vain, care a lot about the way they look and dress and the impression they make on others.
    Now, having showered and dressed in a cotton T-shirt and white shorts, I stood in front of the mirror, peering at myself and grimacing at my image. I realized that I had spent far too long in the garden unprotected yesterday afternoon; my freckles seemed to have multiplied by the dozen.
    A few fronds of hair frizzled around my temples and ears, and I sighed to myself as I slicked them back with water, wishing, as I so frequently did, that I were a pale, ethereal blonde. As far as I'm concerned, my coloring is much too vibrant, my eyes almost unnaturally green. I have inherited my coloring from my father; certainly there is no mistaking whose daughter I am. My eyes mirror his, as does my hair. Mind you, his is a sandy tone now, although it was once as fiery as mine, and his eyes are not quite as brightly green as they once were.
    That's one of the better things about getting older, I think—everything starts to fade. I keep telling myself that I'm going to look like the inestimable Katharine Hepburn when I'm in my seventies. "Let's only hope so," Andrew usually remarks when I mention this little conceit of mine. And it is wishful thinking on my part; what woman, redheaded or not, doesn't want those lean, thoroughbred looks of hers?
    Brushing back my hair, I secured it with a rubber band, then tied a piece of white ribbon around my pony-tail and ran down the stairs.
    My little office, where I did paperwork and household accounts, was situated at the back of the house, looking out toward the vegetable garden. Seating myself at the large, old-fashioned desk, which we had found at Cricket Hill, a local antique shop, I picked up the phone and dialed our apartment in New York.
    On the third ring my mother-in-law answered with a cheery, very British "Hello?"
    "It's me, Diana," I said, "and the top of the morning to you." .
    "Good morning, darling, and how is it out there?" she asked. Not waiting for my response, she went on, "It's frightfully hot here in the city, I'm afraid."
    "I thought it would be," I answered. "And we're having the same heat wave in Connecticut. All I can say is, thank God for air-conditioning. Anyway, how are my holy terrors today?"
    She laughed. "