Remember Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

salt-filled mist into the air. Sunbeams danced on the whitecaps. The horizon was already dotted with fishing boats. She opened the window and listened to the hawking of the gulls, the thin, noisy chirping of the sparrows.
    Smiling, she turned from the window. After three days she felt comfortably settled here. She walked from room to room, planning what she would do if she were decorating them. The master bedroom contained the only authentic furniture. Most of the furnishings in the other rooms were the kind people put in homes that they are planning to rent—inexpensive couches, Formica tables, lamps that looked like they might have been purchased at a garage sale. But the deacon’s bench, now painted a garish green, could be sanded down and refinished. She ran her hand over it, imagining the velvety walnut grain.
    The Paleys had done massive structural repairs to the building. There was a new roof, new plumbing, new wiring, a new heating system. A lot of cosmeticwork remained to be done—faded wallpaper in a jarring modern design was an eyesore in the dining room; dropped acoustical ceilings destroyed the noble height of the parlors and library—but none of those things mattered. The house itself was the important thing. It would be a joy to complete the restoration. There was a double parlor, for example—if she owned the house, she’d use one of them as a den. Later on Hannah and her friends would enjoy having a gathering place.
    She ran her fingers over the minister’s cabinet that was built into the wall next to the fireplace. She’d heard the stories of the early settlers and how a little glass of spirits was offered to the minister when he came to call. The poor man probably needed it, she thought. In those days there was rarely a fire laid in parlors. The ordained must have been blue with cold.
    Early Cape families lived in the keeping room, as the kitchen was called, the room where the great fireplace gave warmth, where the air was inviting with the aroma of cooking, where children did their school-work by candlelight on the refectory table, where the family passed the long winter evenings together. She wondered about the generations of families who had replaced the original ill-fated owners here.
    She heard footsteps on the stairs and went into the foyer. Adam was coming down, Hannah in his arms. “Who says I don’t hear her when she cries?” He sounded very pleased with himself. “She’s changed and hungry.”
    Menley reached for the baby. “Give her to me. Isn’t it wonderful to have her to ourselves with only a part-time baby-sitter? If Elaine’s future stepdaughter is half as good a sitter as she’s supposed to be, we’ll have a terrific summer.”
    â€œWhat time is she coming?”
    â€œAround ten, I think.”
    *   *   *
    At exactly ten o’clock, a small, blue car pulled into the driveway. Menley watched Amy as she came up the walk, noting her slim figure, her long ash blond hair clipped into a ponytail. It struck Menley that there was something aggressive about the girl’s posture, the way her hands were jammed into the pockets of her cutoffs, the belligerent thrust of her shoulders.
    â€œI don’t know,” Menley murmured as she went to open the door.
    Adam looked up from the office work he had spread out on the table. “You don’t know what?”
    â€œSsh,” Menley cautioned.
    Once in the house, however, the girl gave a different impression. She introduced herself, then went right over to the baby, who was in the small daytime crib they’d set up for her in the kitchen. “Hi, Hannah.” She moved her hand gently until Hannah grabbed at her finger. “Good girl. You’ve got some grip. Are you going to be my buddy?”
    Menley and Adam exchanged glances. The affection seemed genuine. After a few minutes of talking with Amy, Menley felt that, if anything,