The Sweetest Thing Read Online Free PDF Page A

empty, but I am warm from the cozy coffee shop and an extreme caffeine buzz.
    I look up to the hills that surround the eastern edge of St. Mary, covered with trees that are still bare from winter. I love this place: so safe, always the same.
    If I can just find Mom, things won’t seem nearly so bleak.
    Or if Nanny and I can talk to Dad, convince him that we belong here, that leaving is not an option. . .
    So many ifs. The wind blows, and I hang St. Mary on tight to the printouts Jack gave me. They’re like pages of hope, right here in my hand, and I’m not letting them fly away.
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Chapter 3
piece of cake
    I slide the folded papers into my coat pocket. By the time I get home, it’s colder and my lungs are sore from breathing the frosty air. I run up the back steps and slip the key in the lock, ready to get warm and boot up the laptop, and then . . .
    “Sheridan!” Nanny shouts from her balcony in that thick Texas drawl. “Get over here, darlin’. I need some help.” Aw, crap.
    Fine. Key in my pocket, I look up at her. She’s smiling, apparently clueless about Dad and the show.
    “Well, don’t just stand there starin’. Get on up here!”
    I walk to the opening in the chain-link fence, cross the alley, and climb the stairs. At the top, she catches me in a big hug.
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    “Hey.” I hug back.
    “Well, hey yourself.” She grabs my shoulders, holds me away from her, and looks me in the eye. “You look sadder than a flounder at a fish fry.”
    I shake my head. “I have news.” I move past her and step into her warm kitchen. “Bad news,” I add.
    “Oh. Dear. That’s the worst kind, ain’t it?” Nanny follows me inside and closes the door. “Well, you can tell me all about it while we get busy. We got us a cake to decorate.”
    “Who for?” I ask, pointing to the plain white nine-inch round cake in the center of the kitchen island.
    “Who do you think?”
    My eyebrows crinkle together. “I have no idea.”
    “Well, your father, of course.”
    “Dad? You mean you know?” I ask, shocked.
    “Of course I know. You think I don’t know things? This is a big day. For all of us.” She’s bustling around the kitchen like it’s Christmas.
    I am officially paralyzed. “Are you serious? Did he tell you?”
    “Yes, indeed.” She pulls a pot out of a cabinet, the corners of her eyes all crinkled up like it’s the happiest day of her entire life. “And that phone hasn’t stopped ringin’.” She laughs. “Good old St. Mary telegraph. News round here hops from one person to the next like a frog on fire.”
    This cannot be happening. She hasn’t thought this through. She doesn’t know all the facts.
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    “But you don’t know. He says they want him to move to New York!” My voice reaches up an octave. “And he thinks I’m going with him!”
    “Oh, calm down.” She opens the fridge and hands me a plastic container full of pastry bags. They’re stuffed with different colors of buttercream. She waves me over and stares down at the cake.
    “Whaddya think? The ExtremeCuisine logo? We can pop it up on the computer. Or you think we should go simpler?”
    “Nan? Are you kidding? How about a one-way, no-return ticket to New York City?”
    She turns to me, purses her lips. “How about a nice senti-ment? Nothing too smart-alecky.” She nudges the container of buttercream wedged under my arm. “Do your thing, girl.”
    I shake my head. Fine. I tear open the lid and search for black. Perfect.
    I look down at the circle in front of me. The white field of icing makes me think of Mom. When I was little, she’d level her cakes and give me the leftover crumbling humps for practice. There’s nothing like staring at a blank cake. She also let me sit in on her cake decorating classes. I was young, but I listened to every word she said. “The cake is a blank canvas, and you are the artist.” That was one of her lines.
    “Follow your artist’s heart.” That was another.
    Of course, right now my heart is