Someone Like Summer Read Online Free PDF

my father was right: She was different, almost exotic, and she exuded warmth as she strolled around looking things over, speaking to me in this low, sexy voice.
    â€œWould you like a drink, Larkin? I’m sure my father will be right back.”
    â€œOh no, thank you. If I drink in the daytime, I get sleepy.”
    So much for the bottle of French Champagne my father had put in the refrigerator a week ago.
    Larkin handed me a tape. Backstage at the Kirov . “This is a documentary about Leningrad’s Kirov ballet. I’m a balletomane. Your father tells me he is too.”
    â€œWhatever” was all I could say. I’d never heard the word before, but it was easy to figure out what it meant. The idea of my father saying he was a balletomane boggled the mind. Ballet? Dad?
    â€œAre you going to join us for lunch?” Larkin asked.
    â€œNo. I think my boyfriend, Esteban, is comingby soon. I hope so, anyway. He has business with my father.”
    â€œToo bad. I hear your dad’s spaghetti sauce is superb!”
    â€œOr you could have paella. There’s paella, too.”
    â€œI’m going to leave the menu up to Kenny.”
    Kenny? Who had ever called Dad Kenny? He was definitely not a Kenny.
    Larkin said, “Will I meet your boyfriend?”
    â€œI wish you would,” I said. “Oh, and please don’t say he’s my boyfriend. My dad might not think he is. I don’t even know him that well.”
    â€œYour secret is safe with me, Annabel.”
    Before my father had slammed out the door, he had predicted that Esteban would hide out somewhere. That’s what “they” did when “they” made mistakes.
    â€œI don’t blame him,” my father had said. “What’s he going to come back here for? To get hell from me? To hear me tell him he’s not getting one red cent until he repairs that roof, and then he’s only getting half of what I would have paid him? He’s ruined my plans, damn him!Why would he come back?”
    I’d said, “Maybe he’ll come back because of me.”
    â€œWhy because of you?” Then he got it. He just shook his head as though he was really sorry for me. “Honey, these muchachos , excuse me, these boys aren’t anything like your Trip Hetherton.”
    â€œHe’s not my Trip Hetherton. When Claire was visiting us, that’s who Trip was calling. I was glad it wasn’t me!”
    â€œToo bad. At least Trip doesn’t have a room-temperature IQ.”
    â€œI like Esteban, Daddy. I’d like to see him again.”
    â€œSo would I!” my father shot back. “So would I like to see him again!”
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    â€œI’ll just stroll about and look this place over,” Larkin said. “Did your father design it?”
    â€œYes. All by himself.”
    What was Dad planning to do about lunch? He was so rattled, he hadn’t made his famousspaghetti sauce, and I didn’t see any being defrosted.
    Larkin had this great scent about her. A perfume so subtle, you only smelled it as she moved around the room, and then very faintly. It was like the smoky smell of burning leaves.
    â€œYou know what impresses me most of all?” Larkin asked.
    â€œThe table?” My father had paid a fortune for that table.
    â€œThe ceiling. It’s a very emotional ceiling, very original.”
    â€œThe ceiling impresses you?”
    â€œWith its splash of nails up there in the corner. It’s very arresting,” Larkin said.
    I wanted to tell her that what she thought was emotional was actually a mistake, that what she thought was original and arresting was the “emergency” my father was off taking care of. But I also wanted to watch my father’s face when she told him how and why it impressed her.
    â€œIt’s really very daring,” she said. She was looking up at it as if it was the ceiling in theSistine Chapel, which my mom and I had seen in