Keeping Kennedy Read Online Free PDF

dawned in her father’s brown
eyes. “You don’t know, do you?”
    Kennedy frowned. “Don’t know what?”
    “Sweetpea, didn’t you get Cassandra’s letter
with your reunion invitation? Why, she told me just yesterday that
she couldn’t wait to see you.”
    “What letter?” She met her mother’s concerned
gaze.
    “The one explaining reunion week.”
    Kennedy shook her head. “I received an
invitation to the reunion and a sketchy agenda for other
activities, like the parade and homecoming masquerade ball that’s
planned later in the week.”
    “Oh my,” Brenda said, just the way Kennedy
had heard her say it thousands of times during her life. Maybe her
real mother was in there somewhere behind all that tie-dye
and faded denim.
    “You see, sweetpea, Friendly Corners is
having its 200 th birthday this week,” her father
explained. “The Alumni Committee got together and decided that each
generation of graduates would have a big, weeklong bash in
celebration of the town’s birth, homecoming and reunion. And we’re
supposed to dress and act the part. Your mother and I have been
practicing for weeks.” He struck a pose. “1969. Am I far-out or
what?”
    Kennedy sagged with relief. “I see.”
Cassandra, the witch, had conveniently forgotten to inform Kennedy
of that small detail. It would be just like her high school nemesis
to try and ruin Kennedy’s week.
    “No problem,” Brenda piped up. “There’s still
some of your old clothes in your closet, dear.” She smiled
affectionately. “I could never bring myself to throw them out or
give them away. I’m sure there will be something you can wear.”
    Kennedy held her palms out to call a stop.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said quickly. Cassandra had merely
given Kennedy the means by which to excuse her millennium era
attire. “I don’t do retro.”
    Drake rubbed his chin, then grinned
mischievously. “Don’t be so hasty, sweetpea. Retro could be
fun.”
    “That’s the spirit,” her father chimed in.
“Heck, man, we’re even having a mini Woodstock.”
    Kennedy bared her teeth in a parody of a
smile. “Speaking of clothes, maybe you should bring our luggage
inside,” she suggested to Drake, effectively changing the
subject.
    “You chicks just chill, the guys have the
situation under control.” Her father turned to Drake. “Come on,
dude, let’s get your threads.”
    Kennedy closed her eyes and pleaded with
whatever gods would listen to deliver her from this insanity.
    “You look tired. How about a nice nap?”
    Kennedy moistened her lips and essayed a
smile. “Sure, Mom.”
    Her mother’s arm still draped around her
waist, the two slowly made their way up the stairs. No matter how
weirdly her parents were behaving, it felt good to be home. Kennedy
sighed as she strode down the familiar hall. She’d stayed away
entirely too long. She had to make sure that didn’t happen again.
Her parents and her uncle were all she had. She gazed lovingly at
the very grown-up flower child next to her. Strange as she looked
at the moment, Brenda Malone was the best mother anyone could ever
ask for.
    Charles—Chuck—Malone’s booming baritone
flowed up the stairs a beat before Kennedy heard the two men’s
heavy footfalls. Drake’s huskier, smoky tone sounded rich and
exotic next to her father’s. She shivered, then reminded herself of
the way things were. Friends. She and Drake were only friends. This
wasn’t real. It was all make-believe. A spin.
    Kennedy’s father paused before taking her
luggage into her old room. “Your mother and I want you to know that
we remember what a bummer it was to be in love and stuck in the
house with your parents. Don’t sweat it,” he declared. “We’re hip
to your needs. So, we’re putting you both in Kennedy’s old
room.”
    “What?” Kennedy gawked at her father.
    “We understand, sweetpea,” her mother put in
quickly. “You’re engaged. Of course we know you’re sleeping
together. You’re