The Things I Want Most Read Online Free PDF

lot the day before, and the hundreds of flowers Sue had planted for Susanne’s wedding in August lined the walks, bordered the tiny, old stone gatehouse behind the main building, and then disappeared in pink and purple rows around the far side.
    I got out of the car, dodged through our maze of sprinklers and, walking past the kitchen door, slipped in the bar entrance. The old barroom, built as a speakeasy during Prohibition, takes up most of the bottom or ground floor of the three-story country inn we were restoring. It opens onto the rear lawn, overlooking an abandoned hay meadow. Inside it was cool and shaded, the high summer sun outside streaming past the windows. The dark knotty pine of the walls glowed faintly in the one light Sue had on over the long pine table in the center of the room. One end of the table was set for four, with plates of hard rolls, cold cuts, macaroni salad, sliced tomatoes, potato chips, and a large chocolate layer cake waited at the other end.
    â€œHi,” Sue said, walking out of the kitchen with another plate of something in her hands. She looked preoccupied and edgy. “Rich, can you get four bar glasses, a bottle of Coke, and some ice?”
    â€œSure.”
    Just as I finished, Joanne knocked at the kitchen door with Mike in tow. Then, while I made conversation with Joanne, Sue ushered Mike through the house, introduced him to the two dogs, Teddy Bear and Pupsy, walked him outside through the garden, and then, bringing him back into the barroom, made a big fuss over sitting him down, getting a sandwich together, and pouring his Coke.
    Mike was better dressed than before, in dark pants and a neat pullover shirt. Still no haircut, but you could tell he’d been thoroughly soaped and shampooed that morning. He looked, of course, like he should pack away a couple hundred lunches, but he barely ate or spoke at first. Instead, all of his attention was focused on the dogs sprawled sleeping with the cat on the sunny grass outside the barroom windows.
    â€œAre you worried about the dogs, Mike?”
    He looked at Sue. “Are they all right? What do they eat? Do they have brothers and sisters? Do they sleep all the time? Do they have last names? Are they always outside? Do they come when you call them?”
    â€œWhoa,” Sue said, laughing, “eat something and I’ll try to answer all your questions.”
    No wonder this guy is so thin
, I thought. Sue did find out that his favorite dessert was mint chocolate chip ice cream with whipped cream, that he liked to swim, do puzzles, and make models, and that he liked the house and the area.
    But Joanne later said that on the long drive back he talked only about dogs.
    When we broke up, I made motions of going back to work, but Sue stopped me with hands firmly on her hips and the set of a question on her face. I sat back down with a bump, the decision she wanted tugging at my shirttails. The next step with Harbour was a weeklong “preplacement” visit, so it looked like we were finally due for “The Talk.”
    â€œThe Talk” is a technique Sue and I have developed to resolve disagreement on important subjects. It’s something we’ve distilled from years of changing family circumstances and six smart, manipulative children. It’s our way of making firm decisions and then shutting down all further discussion.
    The way “The Talk” works is that either Sue or I decide we have to or want to make an important decision about somethingand then we actually set a date and time at which we will do so. We might discuss the issue in advance and in the process feel out the other’s position, but we always agree not to arrive at any firm conclusion until the scheduled time of “The Talk.” Then, when we meet, it’s a no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners sort of fight. Both of us muster up all of the points we’ve assembled and hack it out until just one or the other is left