In Broken Places Read Online Free PDF Page A

soon as I pay off the stove and the bathroom remodel.”
    “How many of your customers actually use that bathroom, Trey?”
    “Not many. But those who do absolutely love the Italian tile and French art.”
    My brother the aesthete. He’d slept on a cot in a tiny room at the back of the bakery for the past few months to save enough money to transform a cesspool of a bathroom into an international artistic delight. Buying an imported industrial stove, I could understand. It was the kind of investment an astute businessman would make. But a bathroom? I shook my head in despair, neither for the first nor for the last time, I was sure.
    “Want more?” he asked, eyeing my empty plate.
    I shook my head. “I’m holding out for a decadent dessert later.”
    He observed me closely and I felt again that warm flow of recognition. We sparred a lot. We loved more. And when Trey lookedinto me like he was doing right now, I knew that my darkest demons were not only safe, but understood.
    “Made a decision yet?” He’d been the first to know about Shayla.
    “Yup. I think I’ll keep voting Republican unless Roseanne Barr runs again.”
    “Good,” Trey said. “I was worried something stupid like becoming a mom might interfere with your political wranglings.”
    I sighed. “Dana and I went to see her a week ago.”
    He put his fork down and clasped his hands in front of him. “And it’s taken you this long to tell me about it?”
    “I’ve been . . . Trey, if you could see inside my brain right now, you’d be calling the guys in the white jackets.”
    “What’s she like?”
    For the hundredth time, my mind went through an inventory of Shayla’s most endearing features. “She’s beautiful. Luminous. Artistic. Precocious. Sweet . . .”
    “So not a chip off the old block is what you’re saying.”
    “She seems to be everything he wasn’t.”
    “And . . . ?”
    “And . . . Trey, I’m terrified.”
    “Good. Then you’re getting the big picture.”
    “I like my life,” I said on a sigh.
    Trey raised a dubious eyebrow.
    “I do!” I repeated with greater conviction. “I like that there’s only me in it. I’m the only one making decisions and living with their consequences. And I’m the only one decorating my house and paying my bills and picking out DVDs. Just me. It’s not selfish; it’s effective management.”
    “Yup.”
    “It’s a good life, Trey. I do what I want when I want, I eat what I like, I go where I please. . . .”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “My life is just the way I want it.”
    “Sure.”
    “Stop agreeing with me!”
    “All right. I disagree.”
    A brimming silence passed between us. “What part do you disagree with?”
    “Oh, you know. The great-life, just-the-way-I-want-it part.”
    “You don’t think my life is good?”
    “I don’t think your life is as good as you think it is. There’s a difference.”
    I let his words sink in, tasting them like one of his exotic concoctions before voicing my reaction. “So you think I should go ahead with it.”
    “I think you shouldn’t let your ‘perfect life’ stand in the way of something meaningful.”
    “But Trey—”
    “I know, Shell.”
    “She’s his. His, Trey.”
    “And for reasons I won’t even try to understand, he wanted her to be yours.”
    “I’d rather inherit his watch. Seriously. I really liked his watch. You know, the gold one with the filigree and the chain and—”
    “Yeah, Shelby. I know the watch.”
    “They need my answer soon. So they can look for other options if I don’t take her.”
    “How soon?”
    “A week or two. I might be able to buy more time if I bribe Dana with some of your esclep di pol . . .”
    He smiled. “I hate it when you try to speak French.”
    “I love that you hate it.”
    “Do it, Shell. What do you have to lose?”
    His question dumbfounded me. “Uh . . . let me see now.” I made an I’m-calculating face. “Yup. Just as I thought. Everything. I’ve got