The Book of James Read Online Free PDF Page B

how to
    reach her?” My best attempt at holding myself together failed, and I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I wiped it quickly with a fingertip.
    “That would make you happy?” he said. “To meet her? Real y?”
    I nodded. I felt like such a ninny sitting in this law office in my shorts and tank top, clutching my cheap purse to my bosom.
    He rubbed his chin lightly with his thumb and index finger.
    “All right, look, I’ll show you where the house is. You’d probably never find it on your own.”
    “Would you real y?” This was more than I had ever hoped for
    when I’d walked in.
    He nodded. “Meet me back here at six. Sharp.” He pushed the
    pen closer to me. “Now, can you make me happy and get started on these questions? My father is going to expect this to be ready . . .”
    But I was halfway out the door. My will could wait.

CHAPTER 7
    I stood before a full-length mirror and inspected myself. I hadn’t decided whether I would actual y knock on Mrs. Whitfield’s door
    or simply take in the house from a distance, but I wanted to make a good impression should this woman and I meet tonight.
    My hair had grown past my shoulders over the summer, and
    my curls had loosened with the weight. My skin was fair and lightly freckled. What jumped out at me from the mirror was my mother’s
    face. I had her high cheekbones and full mouth. My eyes were the
    same greenish-brown shade and had the same peculiar almond
    slant to them. I resembled her so closely that, growing up, I sometimes saw the pain on my father’s face when he looked at me.
    I leaned forward and applied my lipstick careful y. After tak-
    ing one more good look, I was reasonably satisfied that I couldn’t do any better. I hadn’t brought much with me in the way of clothing; a pair of lightweight khaki slacks and white T-shirt would
    have to do.
    “Good luck,” I whispered to the mirror.
    Dylan was waiting for me in the lobby of the law office. His
    suit jacket was slung over his arm, his tie loosened, the top buttons 32
    ELLEN J. GREEN
    of his shirt undone. He looked thicker somehow, more athletic.
    During the silent drive, I sneaked glances at him. His hair was
    curly and cut close to his head. Other than the five-o’clock shadow, the only flaw I could see in his skin was a little crease on his cheek that dimpled when he smiled.
    “Are you planning to see her or just the house?” His words
    broke the silence. “I ask because I don’t think she entertains visitors much. I don’t think she even goes out.”
    I turned slightly in my seat to face him. “You know her?”
    “No one real y knows her. I just know about her. Nick and I
    went to school together.”
    “You went to school with my husband? I sat in that office and
    you didn’t even think to tell me that?” Astounding.
    He shrugged. “I went to school with him, but he kept pretty
    much to himself.” He glanced at me. “You don’t understand, but
    you will when we get there. Their house is big, isolated, and gated.
    And the family didn’t mingle much.”
    “Do you know why?”
    He was silent, deep in thought. “It was her family’s house, not
    the father’s. Old money. She grew up there. I don’t know much
    more than that, except that anytime her name comes up, people
    lower their voices and whisper. Gossip, old stories. She’s like a local Huguette Clark. Hermit. Has money. Odd.”
    “What is her first name?” I asked.
    “Cora. Cora Whitfield.”
    I glanced out the window and saw that we had left the city
    behind. We were on an expressway and then on a series of streets
    that seemed to be going uphil . The final turn landed us on a wide, cobbled street dotted on either side with stores and old-fashioned streetlights. The buildings were made of stone, very quaint and
    expensive looking.
    “A trolley?” I pointed to the cables overhead. “This vil age has
    a trolley?”
    THE BOOK of JAMES
    33
    “Yeah. The Twenty-Three trolley used to run down
    Germantown Avenue. Not