Now I'll Tell You Everything (Alice) Read Online Free PDF Page A

over coffee and Sylvia’s lemon sponge cake—helping ourselves to second and third slices.
    “So what’s our coed doing these days?” Les asked me. “How’s the roommate?”
    “You don’t want to know,” I said, but I told him anyway.
    “Could have been worse,” he said. “Amber and Jerry could have been having sex in your bed with you in it. Now you’ve got the best of all possible worlds—a private bedroom for half the price.”
    “Tell me about you and Stacy,” I said, and then was embarrassed that my thoughts had gone from beds to Les and Stacy.
    “What about her? You’ll get to meet her tomorrow. Her family’s in Arlington, but she’s going to have dinner here and then drive home tomorrow night.”
    I could swear I saw relief pass over Dad’s face. Sylvia’s, too.
    I loved being home that night. I felt so special, somehow. Both Les and I coming back to the old homestead—both of us in new locations, with new lives.
    “You miss me?” I asked him at one point.
    “Not a bit,” he answered, but his smile said it all.
    *  *  *
    I don’t know what I expected when Stacy Houghton arrived—a model, maybe. The real Stacy was only an inch or so taller than me. She wasn’t what you’d call beautiful, but she was definitely attractive, with short, semi-curly hair and a small button nose between the lenses of her stylish glasses. Her lips were delicately shaped, like twin peaks. I just hoped I wouldn’t goof up and call her Tracy, a woman Les proposed to once.
    “Hello, Alice. Hello, everyone. Sylvia . . . Ben . . . ,” she said, looking us over.
    “Welcome!” said Dad, smiling and taking her coat. “We’re so glad to have you!”
    She was wearing a white sweater, with tiny pearl earrings, and if she used makeup at all, it wasn’t noticeable. She and Les exchanged a quick kiss, and I saw his hand linger on her waist. And then we were all moving to the kitchen for a glass of cider and to help Sylvia with the finishing touches, so by the time we were ready to eat, we didn’t feel like such strangers with Stacy.
    Dinner was everything you’d want it to be on Thanksgiving. Dad carved the turkey, and we all carried food to the dining room table in a happy parade.
    I studied Les and Stacy throughout dinner. She was in her last year at the university in Morgantown, she told us, working on a degree in phys ed, but had a job on weekends as a swim instructor at the Basswood Lodge and Convention Center, where Les worked.
    “And she’s a state swimming champion,” Les said proudly, then added, with a grin, “She hasn’t entered any swimsuit contests, but she could win some.”
    Stacy just laughed. “Not my line,” she said.
    A bundle of energy, that’s what she was—the quick way she moved, responded. The more I watched her and Les, in fact, the more they seemed exact opposites of each other. Where Lester was laid-back, Stacy was intense. Where Les was careless—his napkin, his knife, and his fork strewn every which way over his plate—Stacy was precise. And yet, when I saw their eyes meet,the warmth of those glances told me they liked each other very, very much.
    It’s funny the way you grow up with one idea about a person and don’t really start noticing other things till you’re older. I’d always thought of Lester as sort of a playboy, but sometimes when I’d hear him discuss world problems with Dad, I’d think, I didn’t know he cared anything about that! So I guess it wasn’t too surprising that Lester was in love with a woman who was intelligent and energetic, yet different from any other woman he’d ever dated.
    And Dad . . . I turned my attention to him next. When you’re a kid, you believe your parents’ main occupation in life should be taking care of you, as though they should be thinking about your feelings twenty-four hours a day. And then you grow up and realize that your dad has needs and interests that have nothing to do with you at all.
    The other thing