The Beach Book Bundle: 3 Novels for Summer Reading: Breathing Lessons, The Alphabet Sisters, Firefly Summer Read Online Free PDF Page A

and she had not written to Serena for over a year or even heard her voice till Serena phoned last night crying so hard she was garbling half her words. At this moment (letting a breeze ripple through her fingers like warm water), Maggie felt that the entire business of time’s passing was more than she could bear. Serena, she wanted to say, just think: all those things we used to promise ourselves we’d never, ever do when we grew up. We promised we wouldn’t mince when we walked barefoot. We promised we wouldn’t lie out on the beach tanning instead of swimming, or swimming with our chins high so we wouldn’t wet our hairdos. We promised we wouldn’t wash the dishes right after supper because that would take us away from our husbands; remember that? How long since you saved the dishes till morning so you could be with Max? How long since Max even noticed that you didn’t?
    Ira came toward her, opening out a map. Maggie removed her sunglasses and blotted her eyes on her sleeves. “Find what you wanted?” she called, and he said, “Oh …” and disappeared behind the map, still walking. The back of the paper was covered with photos of scenic attractions. He reached his side of the car, refolded the map, and got in. “Wish I could’ve called Triple A,” he told her. He started the engine.
    “Well, I wouldn’t worry,” she said. “We’ve got loads of extra time.”
    “Not really, Maggie. And look how the traffic is picking up. Every little old lady taking her weekend drive.”
    A ridiculous remark; the traffic was mostly trucks. They pulled out in front of a moving van, behind a Buick and another oil truck, or perhaps the same truck they had passed a while back. Maggie replaced her sunglasses.
    TRY JESUS, YOU WON ’ T REGRET IT , a billboard read. And BUBBA MCDUFF ’ S SCHOOL OF COSMETOLOGY . They entered Pennsylvania and the road grew smooth for a few hundred yards, like a good intention, before settling back to the same old scabby, stippled surface. The views were long and curved and green—a small child’s drawing of farm country. Distinct black cows grazed on the hillsides. BEGIN ODOMETER TEST , Maggie read. She sat up straighter. Almost immediately a tiny sign flashed by: o.1 MI. She glanced at their odometer. “Point eight exactly,” she told Ira.
    “Hmm?”
    “I’m testing our odometer.”
    Ira loosened the knot of his tie.
    Two tenths of a mile. Three tenths. At four tenths, she felt they were falling behind. Maybe she was imagining things, but it seemed to her that the numeral lagged somewhat as it rolled upward. At five tenths, she was almost sure of it. “How long since you had this checked?” she asked Ira.
    “Had what checked?”
    “The odometer.”
    “Well, never,” he said.
    “Never! Not once? And you accuse
me
of poor auto maintenance!”
    “Look at that,” Ira said. “Some ninety-year-old lady they’ve let out loose on the highway. Can’t even see above her steering wheel.”
    He veered around the Buick, which meant that he completely bypassed one of the mileage signs. “Darn,” Maggie said. “You made me miss it.”
    He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look sorry. She pinned her eyes far ahead, preparing for the seven tenths marker. When it appeared she glanced at the odometer and the numeral was just
creeping
up. It made her feelitchy and edgy. Oddly enough, though, the next numeral came more quickly. It might even have been too quick. Maggie said, “Oh, oh.”
    “What’s the matter?”
    “This is making me a nervous wreck,” she said. She was watching for the road sign and monitoring the odometer dial, both at once. The six rolled up on the dial several seconds ahead of the sign, she could swear. She tsked. Ira looked over at her. “Slow down,” she told him.
    “Huh?”
    “Slow down! I’m not sure we’re going to make it. See, here the seven comes, rolling up, up … and where’s the sign? Where’s the
sign
? Come on, sign! We’re losing! We’re