Nantucket Sisters Read Online Free PDF Page B

the dock, she runs to peek into the boathouse window.
    “Not much to see in there,” Thaddeus tells her. “The only boat I have now is this poor old girl. That shack’s been empty for years.”
    It might be empty to Thaddeus, Maggie thinks, but to her it looks like a haven for dreams. She could turn it into a secret retreat. She could hide her diaries here, and her notebooks full of poems and stories …
    “Maggie,” Frances calls. “Come on.”
    As she wriggles into the back of the Jeep, Maggie secretly decides that if her mother wants to marry this man, that’s great with her.
    When they set foot inside Thaddeus’s house, Maggie has second thoughts.
    Ben is thoroughly charmed.
    They enter right into the kitchen. The linoleum flooring is cracked. The appliances are squat and ancient. A round trestle table covered with magazines, newspapers, books, mail, and a few dirty plates and cups sits in the center of the room. A black-and-white cat occupies the rest of the kitchen table, meticulously washing her face. She pauses to appraise them with sea green eyes, then continues her work.
    “Pretty kitty,” Maggie says.
    “Her name’s Cleopatra,” Thaddeus says. “You can pet her, but go slow. She’s not used to young people.”
    “Whoa!” Ben cries, running his hands along the wide windowsills. “Cool stuff.”
    Maggie stands next to him, taking the time to appreciate the glass bottles of deep indigo and pale turquoise, iridescent shells, striated pebbles, sea glass, and arrowheads.
    “We have collections like this, too,” Maggie tells Thaddeus shyly.
    “Yeah, but Mom makes us keep everything in boxes,” Ben grumbles.
    Frances doesn’t seem to notice. She’s checking out a cobweb in the corner, the dust on top of the refrigerator.
    “Here’s the living room,” Thaddeus says, passing through a doorway.
    Maggie and her family follow. The windows are twelve over twelve, hung with plain white muslin curtains. A handsome wooden mantel trimmed with beadwork ornaments the large fireplace. On the sofa, a hound, deeply sleeping, wakes to peer blearily at them from her nest.
    “That’s Susie.” Thaddeus touches her graying head with a gentle pat of his enormous hand. “She’s not a youngster anymore. I might get a new pup,” he murmurs, “but maybe not. Susie’s special.”
    Thaddeus leads them through the rest of the house which wanders out and up and down in all directions from the two small original rooms. All the rooms are in need of sweeping and dusting, and the windows cry out to be washed. Heaps of twine and rope spill from the corners of the rooms, and the steps of the wide staircase with its frayed runner can hardly be tread upon for the books, newspapers, and magazines piled there. In the long hallway, the tables and windowsills are cluttered with turtle shells, deer antlers, and dried wildflowers laced with dust in an old glass milk bottle.
    “This place could use a good sorting out,” Frances murmurs quietly.
    “It would be a cool house for hide-and-seek,” Maggie gushes.
    “Oh, yeah,” Ben agrees, pinching the back of Maggie’s neck and laughing like a monster.
    Frances puts her hand on Thaddeus’s arm. “It’s a wonderful house, Thaddeus.”
    “I’m glad you like it,” he rumbles, growing pink again.
    Maggie and Ben roll their eyes.
    Sunday morning Emily’s nerves skitter under her skin when she enters the McIntyre house. She has a secret with Ben from Maggie. It’s weird.
    Ben’s not there. Maggie’s lying on the sofa reading Edgar Allan Poe. Over the past few weeks, the girls have started reading every ghost book they can find. They’re scared all the time, but somehow they love it.
    “Hello, Mrs. McIntyre … Frances,” Emily says.
    Maggie’s mom looks up from her sewing machine. Her black hair’s piled on top of her head, and she wears gold-rimmed glasses which, while she looks away from her sewing, she pushes up past her forehead. They nestle in her hair like an odd