The Invisibles Read Online Free PDF

dear.”
    Nora opened the box—and then inhaled at the silver link bracelet nestled in a sea of dark velvet. In the middle of the links was a thick crescent moon, the edges tipped and shadowed in a dark gray. The word Nora had been inscribed along the outside curve, a tiny sapphire chip dotting the top of the capital N .
    â€œDo you like it?” Marion leaned forward, her forehead furrowed. “We weren’t really sure . . .”
    â€œIt was her idea,” Trudy said, jerking her head toward Marion. A blue butterfly barrette quivered in her hair. “She thought it would be cute and all, ’cause you’re always talking about the moon. I have the receipt if you want to exchange it.”
    Nora shook her head, struggling to retrieve her voice. “I love it. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
    â€œReally?” Marion asked. “You’re sure?”
    â€œI’m sure.” It was hard to get the words out around the mound in the back of her throat. They were so good to her, these women, and had been for so many years. So loving. So attentive. Even if they did feel sorry for her.
    She held out her wrist so that Marion could fasten the clasp, and then leaned back, stroking it with a fingertip. “I love it,” she said, looking back up at the women. “I really do. Thank you so much.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.” Trudy stood up, brushing crumbs off the front of her zippered cardigan sweater. “And now that that’ s over, it’s time to get to work.”

Chapter 3
    A lthough she had never done it before, booking a plane ticket online was not nearly as difficult as Nora thought it might be. Nora had been on a plane exactly once in her life, when her mother had flown the two of them to Florida to attend her grandfather’s funeral. She had only been four years old at the time, and she did not remember much about the funeral or the plane ride. Trudy, however, found her a last-minute deal on some obscure travel website, which shaved fifty dollars off the final price, and had offered to take care of Alice Walker while Nora was gone so that she would not have to pay for a kennel.
    â€œYou do want me to come back, don’t you?” Nora asked as they locked up the library later that evening.
    Trudy laughed. “Only if you promise to go again.”
    It was dusk when Nora started back home. The sky was awash in a sea of periwinkle, and the moon was brightly visible. She had been too preoccupied with things today to look for a new first line in any of the books she had to shelve, but one came to her now asshe gazed up at the sky: “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.” She remembered the chill that had descended over her the first time she read that line from George Orwell’s book and how a similar sensation—like small, frozen fingertips—tiptoed over the top of her head and down the back of her neck as she thought of the weekend ahead. Anything could happen, she thought. Anything at all.
    She still had to pack and get Alice Walker over to Trudy’s, and then call a taxi service to come pick her up in the morning so that she could get to the airport, but right now she needed to walk. She grabbed a handful of Swedish fish, clipped on Alice Walker’s leash, and headed toward the east part of town, over a mile away, until she got to Wisconsin Avenue. It was located on the outskirts of one of the more ragged sections of Willow Grove, and the street stuck out from the highway like a dislocated arm. Her head started to pound as she made a left onto Magnolia and stood on the sidewalk opposite the old building, just like it did every time she came down here.
    Ozzie would never believe it if she saw what it looked like now, Nora thought; how Turning Winds had transformed over the years from a stately yellow Victorian house with a snake of red ivy crawling up one side into a pale, sagging