Set the Night on Fire Read Online Free PDF Page A

hauled down from the attic, dozens of ornaments nestled in layers of tissue paper. They were supposed to decorate the tree this afternoon. Hot buttered rum and tree-trimming—it was a Hilliard family tradition. Aunt Valerie would be joining them. Lila decided to drive over to Blaine’s and pick up some new lights.
    She unplugged the lights and went upstairs. Dad had never redecorated her room when she left. High school mementos were tucked into the corners of her mirror, stuffed animals piled in the corner. A framed eight-by-ten photograph of Gramum sat on her bureau. It had been six years, but she still missed her grandmother. Her death had broken a link in Lila’s already tiny universe. Wasn’t living supposed to expand her horizons? Bring in new experiences and people? Then why did hers feel like it was constricting?
    She threw on a thick sweater, jeans, and boots, then went into the bathroom. She brushed her hair back and pulled it into a ponytail. Dark hair, dark eyes. My little gypsy, Dad used to call her. So unlike Danny, with his light hair and blue eyes. No one ever mistook them for twins; some couldn’t believe they were siblings. If she hadn’t seen the baby pictures, photos in which Gramum dressed them alike—at least until they were two—she might not have believed it herself.
    She washed her face. She was on the wrong side of her thirties; she could use some make-up. She settled for a swipe of lip gloss. That was another Gramumism: “Even when you’re in a hurry, try to throw on some lipstick. It gives you a finished look.”
    She clattered down the back steps to the mud room and pulled her parka off the hook. She went to her father’s study and knocked.
    “Come in.”
    She opened the door. Small bars of daylight seeped in around the edges of closed curtains. The only other light in the room came from a computer monitor. Her father was bent over it, his face a pale shade of blue.
    “Hi, Dad. Just wanted to tell you I’m going out.”
    “Okay, sweetheart.”
    “Do you need anything?”
    “I’m fine. I was just checking the news.”
    She looked around for the newspaper, but didn’t see it. A smile tugged at her lips. Along with everything else, her father got his news online these days. Talk about early adopters. He’d been there during the first days of the Internet. He and Al Gore.
    “Anything new?”
    He shrugged. “The Bulls won. The Bears lost.” He looked up, his eyes squinting slightly, as if he was seeing her for the first time. “Where did you say you were going?”
    “The tree lights aren’t working right. I’m going to pick up some new ones.”
    “We’re trimming it this afternoon.”
    “That’s why I’m going now.” She walked over and kissed the top of his head. “Where’s Sadie? I didn’t see her in the kitchen.”
    Their housekeeper since the twins were small, Sadie took care of cuts and scrapes, soothed frayed tempers, and had a big lap to curl up in. Best of all, she baked the most delicious pies east of the Mississippi. Lila remembered when she was seven. Her father and brother were away on a camping trip and she’d been invited to a neighbor’s house for dinner. But Sadie had made a blueberry pie, Lila’s favorite. When it came time for dessert at the neighbors’, Lila announced she’d rather go home for Sadie’s pie. She got a smart slap on her butt when her father came home. By then, though, she’d had several slices.
    “Sometimes she gets stuck in traffic,” her father said, bringing her back to the present.
    “You sure you don’t need anything, Dad?” She pointed to the cane propped up against the desk. “For your hip?”
    “For Christ’s sake, Lila, I’m not crippled. I just had a hip replacement.”
    “I know.”
    “I should have had it done years ago.” He shooed her out. “Get out of here. And don’t worry about Sadie. She’ll be here.”
    “She’d better. She promised to make blueberry pie.”
    Her father looked her over.