Paint the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page B

…” said Mr. Benedetto. “To the Limners, like you do every year. But of course this time … to stay for good.”
    Confused, Maya asked, “Who are they?”
    â€œWho are they?” Mr. Benedetto almost laughed. “Your mother’s family. You spend every summer with them.”
    She stared at him, her eyes vacant and bewildered.
    Mr. Benedetto’s brow furrowed and he sat straighter, flipping through a sheaf of papers. He pointed to a paragraph. “Those were your parents’ wishes. It says that your custody was to be split. You were to spend the school year with your grandmother and your summerswith …” He read the paper. “’Walter, Frederick, and Violet Limner.’ ” He looked up and raised his eyebrows as if asking a question.
    Maya gave a tiny shrug.
    With sudden revelation, Mr. Benedetto rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, Agnes,” he said, as if he were admonishing Grandmother. “So that’s why she never had me to the house during the summer. She didn’t want me to find out that she wasn’t complying.” He took a deep breath. “Maya, do you know anything about your mother’s family?”
    Maya searched her memory for the details Grandmother had told her and slowly nodded. “My other grandmother died when my mother was really little. I have a grandfather and he lives with his brother andsister … but they’re actually hillbillies with no education and they live like pigs in an uncivilized land. Oh, and they don’t appreciate culture and are extremely crass and unsavory.”
    Mr. Benedetto smiled and shook his head. “Maya, I think that’s a gross misconception on Agnes’s part.” He studied the papers. “Here’s the information for Walter Limner. I’ll call as soon as I get back to the office, then I’ll call Valentina with the details for your flight. I’ll see you tomorrow. And please, don’t worry.” He stood and left, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
    Alone in the room, Maya couldn’t help but worry. She was curious about her mother’s family and kept rolling their names around in her mind: Walter, Frederick, and Violet. They sounded like nice names. But what ifGrandmother had been right about them? Or knew something much worse than what she’d told Maya? After all, she’d kept her from them for all these years. And why hadn’t they tried to contact her? Hadn’t they wanted her? For all she knew they could be mean and indifferent. But then, what difference would it make if they were? She had nowhere else to go.
    Valentina helped Maya pack. Everything she owned fit into one small suitcase. Afterward, Maya walked downstairs, stopping on each step in front of her father’s photographs to touch his face. She wandered from room to room, her footsteps echoing hollow good-byes. When she heard children playing outside, she realized that she could walk out the front door and join them. But she didn’t. She meandered inside without direction,studying the furniture stifled beneath the plastic slipcovers, stroking the stark walls, and slipping behind the white draperies that dared not rumple. She walked into the dining room and gingerly touched each of the milk-glass vases for the first time in her life. As she climbed the stairs to go to bed, she thought about the voluminous white wedding gowns and the trailing white veils that would someday sweep across the immaculate tile floors. Grandmother would have liked that.
    When the airplane’s wheels finally touched down and the brakes engaged, Maya leaned against the seat, clutching the box of horses. She waited until everyone was off the plane and then edged down the aisle toward the waiting flight attendant.
    As they walked down the long jet-way tunnel, he turned and smiled. “Visiting or going home?”
    Maya’s forehead