Love, Suburban Style Read Online Free PDF

own hometown for under a million dollars.”
    “There are a few in the high sixes and low sevens,” Krissy tells her. “Why? Are you thinking of coming back?”
    “Yes, but shh.” Meg indicates her daughter with a nod. “I don’t want to break it to her just yet.”
    “Oh, she’ll love it here. There’s so much for kids to do. We’ve still got a terrific recreation department.”
    “Really?” Meg remembers participating in some of their community theater programs when she was growing up. “Do they still put on plays and musicals?”
    “Yes. And a lot of kids play soccer…”
    “Soccer? It would be good for Cosette to get back into that.”
    “There’s a swim team, too.”
    “Unfortunately, she can barely doggy paddle.” Or ride a bike. Or toss a Frisbee. Or play hopscotch.
    This isn’t the first time Meg is realizing just how deprived her urban child has been.
    Too bad we can’t afford to move here,
she reminds herself, as Krissy slows the car in front of the house where she grew up.
    “Oh my God.” A wave of nostalgia washes over Meg. She presses her knuckles against her mouth. “Can you pull over for a second? I just want to look at it.”
    “Sure.”
    “Cosette…” She turns to wave at her daughter in the backseat until Cosette removes one earphone, music blasting from it.
    “What?” She is obviously aggravated at the interruption.
    “I just want to show you where I lived with Grandma and Grandpa.”
    Her daughter flicks a gaze at the brick Tudor. “It’s nice.”
    “It looks almost exactly the same, except the trees are taller and my mother always planted red geraniums in that bed out front, instead of pink… what are those things?”
    “Impatiens.” Krissy laughs. “City girls don’t do much gardening, huh?”
    “Not unless you count the stuff I’m growing on leftover takeout in my fridge.”
    “Well, for the record, geraniums need sun. This yard used to get it when the trees were younger. But now look. It’s all shade. Impatiens love shade.”
    “I’ll remember that.” But Meg doubts she’ll become much of a gardener even if she winds up here in suburbia. She has a fear—well, according to her daughter, it’s an obsession—when it comes to bees.
    Bees, wasps, yellow jackets, hornets… things that buzz and sting.
    It stems from a childhood incident when she accidentally stepped on a hive while playing at a friend’s house. She wound up in the emergency room, puffy and in terrible pain.
    She hasn’t walked barefoot through the grass ever since… not that there’s much opportunity for that in Manhattan.
    Meg glances over her shoulder to see that Cosette is plugged into her iPod again, having supplied the obligatory interest in the old homestead. “Listen, Krissy… I need you to find me something that I can afford. I really want to come back.”
    “Just like that? One look at your old house, and your mind is made up?”
    “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.” Well, that depends on how you define “long.”
    “What’s your price range?”
    She’s been socking away all those alimony checks from Calvin for quite some time, so she has a good idea what she can afford without a mortgage. Financing the house is out of the question, considering that she no longer has a solid source of income.
    “Five hundred is my limit.” It seemed like such an astronomical number until… well, right this second.
    “There’s nothing at that price right now,” Krissy says flatly. “If you can go up to six seventy-five, I might be able to—”
    Hearing a car door slam, they both look over at the driveway to see a shiny red BMW now parked there. A tall, tanned blond man in tennis whites and stylish sunglasses has emerged and is looking at them.
    “Hello, Brad,” Krissy calls through her open window. “It’s Kris Holmes—from Better Homes Realty.”
    “Oh! Hi.” He takes a few steps closer. “I know the market is hot, but don’t tell me you’re here to talk