The Guests on South Battery Read Online Free PDF Page B

known as Villa Margherita on South Battery. I’d cried for days after learning those homes had sold and I hadn’t been the one to broker the deals. If anything, my anguish meant that my competitive spirit, dormant for so long, had reemerged kicking and screaming.
    It was a good thing, considering we owed Nola for the money she’d given us to purchase the house when my ownership was contested. She was already a successful songwriter, having sold two songs to pop artist Jimmy Gordon and having one of them featured in an iPhone commercial, and she’d willingly given us the money, but neither Jack nor I would feel good about it until we paid her back in full with interest. Despite recent career setbacks, Jack had just signed a healthy two-book contract with his new publisher, but we were still trying to recover financially. Not to mention the fact that we owned an old house whose favorite hobby seemed to be hemorrhaging money.
    My pace slowed as I neared my house, catching sight of not only Sophie’s white Prius parked at the curb, but also Rich Kobylt’s truck still in the same spot as I’d last seen it. This couldn’t be good. I hadn’t been able to reach Sophie when I tried earlier, and I wondered if she’d been avoiding speaking to me on the phone. She mistakenly believed that people would prefer bad news to be delivered in person. I didn’t, simply because if there were no witnesses to me hearing the news, then I could pretend it never happened.
    I stopped, considering retreating to the office, but I suddenly became aware of my feet—or what was left of them—and knew I couldn’t. With a heavy sigh, I slipped off my shoes and limped the last hundred feet to the garden gate barefoot.
    Sophie and Rich were standing by the indentation in my yard, nowsurrounded by yellow tape, along with a woman in her early twenties. Sophie spotted me and turned around with a huge smile. Her daughter, two months younger than my own babies, was worn in an outward-facing papoose, and gave me a single-toothed smile. She had dark, curly hair like her mother, big blue eyes like her father, Chad, and baby Birkenstocks over socks on her tiny feet. In my opinion, only babies looked good in Birkenstocks.
    â€œMelanie!” Sophie said enthusiastically, making me immediately suspicious.
    â€œGood to see you, Sophie. I’ve got to go change and check on the babies. . . .”
    â€œNice try. Nola and Jack are with the children.” She looked down at my shoes dangling from my hand. “And you’re almost undressed anyway. You know, if you wore Birkenstocks, your feet wouldn’t hurt.”
    â€œBut then I wouldn’t have any self-respect.” As I approached, a frigid wind blew across my face and lifted my hair, but I could see that no one else was affected. Ignoring it, I headed straight for Sophie and the baby. My new-mother status made me a magnet for small babies with soft skin and pudgy toes, and I gently squeezed the baby’s plump cheek. “How is Blue Skye today?” I no longer cringed when I said her name, which was a good thing, since I saw her frequently. Still, I shortened it to Skye often enough that I hoped they’d stop expecting to hear “Blue” in front of it. There was only so much Bohemian I could take.
    â€œI’ve been trying to reach you,” I said to Sophie, studying the brightly colored tie-dyed kerchief that kept her curls at bay, and her similarly hued pants and T-shirt ensemble, all worn under a rainbow-striped parka opened at the front to accommodate the baby. I couldn’t see much of the bundled baby except for her face and the tie-dyed knit hat and socks beneath her Birkenstocks, but I had the horrible feeling that they were wearing matching outfits.
    Sophie smiled brightly, confirming my earlier suspicions. “Yes, well, I had two classes to teach today, and then Mr. Kobylt called. Seems like he’s