Happy All the Time Read Online Free PDF

the idea of being hijacked by a not sober woman or of being a bad houseguest.
    â€œOh, no,” said Rachel. “I just couldn’t take the responsibility. It’s too late and too dark and you’ve had too much to drink. You’d get lost. You’ll have to stay here. I couldn’t deal with the guilt if you drove off the road and got killed or anything.”
    â€œI think it’s important that you tell me right now,” Vincent said.
    â€œWell, actually, I’m not too sure I know,” said Rachel. “On account of because the sitter drove me over and now she’s gone. The brakes on the station wagon are shot and Aurélee has the little car.”
    â€œAurélee?”
    â€œShe’s my French girl,” said Rachel. “She lives here and takes care of little Hugh and Sophie so Artie and I can go away on the weekends.”
    â€œArtie?”
    â€œMy lawyer,” said Rachel. “You’re my revenge on him. I told him he had a week to get on the stick and start rattling some papers. I told him if he didn’t get moving, I’d take up with someone else and you’re it.”
    â€œYou haven’t given Artie his week,” said Vincent. Rachel had begun to loom at him. “Why can’t Aurélee drive me home in the little car?”
    â€œAurélee drove somewhere to watch the hawks migrate. This is the week they migrate somewhere and she went to see it. So she isn’t here. Besides, a little revenge will do me good.”
    She sat up straight and Vincent noticed that she was quite a large package. Her cheeks were ruddy. Her pink scalp gleamed through the part in her bright blond hair. She looked positively overheated by her own good health. She was wearing a kilt, which Vincent had trouble distinguishing from the couch. He gulped his drink and remembered nothing until the morning, when he remembered a great deal and realized that he was massively hung over.
    He was staring out the window calculating his terrible remorse when Rachel was suddenly sitting beside him.
    â€œEither you’re a real gent or a dud avocado or you can’t drink worth a damn,” she said.
    Vincent held his head slightly to the side. Upright, he felt as if someone were stabbing him. “What does that mean?” he whispered.
    â€œIt means you didn’t come across,” Rachel said. “You can’t imagine how put out I am.”
    This information filled Vincent with relief. He believed that sex was involved with destiny. Had anything happened between him and Rachel, he would have dutifully gotten on a plane every weekend to see her until she got sick of him.
    â€œWhat a damned shame,” Rachel said. “I hate missed chances.” She consulted her bedside clock. “If Aurélee were here, we’d have time for a little quick action, but she isn’t. It’s too late now. It’s time for breakfast. You can use my toothbrush unless you have foot-and-mouth disease. There’s a guest toothbrush in the guest bedroom but I don’t want you trotting all over the house. Artie’s electric razor is hidden in back of the baby powder. The towels are in a cupboard under the sink. Now, when you come down to breakfast, please don’t say anything compromising to little Hugh and Sophie. They have conflicted images about male authority.”
    Little Hugh and Sophie were delicate, goggle-eyed creatures with soft, curly hair. Clearly they took after their father. Vincent found Rachel and her children in the breakfast nook—a yellow room with French windows that looked out over the tennis court. Little Hugh was patting his English muffin with his fist and singing to himself. Sophie was eating oatmeal, but when Vincent appeared he absorbed all of her attention. She continued to eat, but the spoon landed in the vicinity of her cheek.
    â€œGood morning,” said Vincent, sitting down. Sophie stared and waved her spoon. Gooey