Wedding Series Boxed Set (3 Books in 1) (The Wedding Series) Read Online Free PDF

Michael and I - were seniors, and we all hung around together."
    "It sounds as if you had a wonderful childhood."
    "Had? You look like you think I'm still going through it." He laughed, noting the startled look in her eyes, as if he'd caught her at something impolite.
    "I'm sorry, I -"
    "It's all right, I was kidding."
    He didn't want a repeat of the tone she'd used to describe his work as child's play.
    Better to turn the conversation.
    "Of course everything wasn't roses, you know. At one time I thought the only answer was to get away. I wanted nothing to do with my family." He kept words and tone light, consciously pushing aside a jumble of old feelings.
    Why had he brought this up?
    "About sixteen or seventeen? I think every kid goes through that stage."
    "I must have been an early developer then, because I was twelve and a half."
    "Twelve?" She cocked her head and her hair swung, exposing the side of her neck in a most distracting way. She pursed her lips - an even greater distraction - and said in ponderous tones, "A manifestation of sibling rivalry, perhaps, since you were displaced by your younger sister?"
    He shook his head, but more at his own thoughts than at her words. "Nah, I'd gone through that the year before. But I guess it was about being displaced in a way."
    He shifted, and felt the rub of her elbow against his jacket. The sensation translating directly to a prickling along his skin.
    "What happened, Paul?"
    Her voice, quiet and soft, lured him.
    "We'd just moved. Across town but a world away to a kid. My grandfather had retired. Not because he wanted to kick back and relax or anything, but because the doctors gave an order he couldn't refuse." He fought stronger feelings with ironic humor. "Given the choice of dying or going to Palm Springs, he took Palm Springs. But that didn't mean he gave up the reins. Not Walter Wilson Mulholland."
    Not a man who'd spent his whole life dictating. Not a man whose only communication with his grandson had come in the form of orders.
Sit erect. Take your elbows off the table. Straighten your shoulders. Wear a shirt and tie for dinner at my table.
    Not the man who bad talked in front of Paul as if he didn't exist. The boy needs a haircut. The boy needs discipline. James, if you and Nancy won't send him away to school, at least stop babying the boy.
    Paul propped his elbows on the table and picked up his wine glass, concentrating on its smooth, warm surface between his palms.
    "He named Dad head of the firm in his place and ordered us to move into the big house on the lake where Mom had been brought up. She didn't want to go, either."
    He remembered sitting on the stairs of the little suburban house he'd been born in, out of sight, listening to his parents.
    Jim, we have a home here.
    We'll make a home there, honey.
    I don't want to go back to that house, Jim. Don't you see what's happening?
    Shh, there's nothing to cry about, honey. This is a great move up for us.
    "But Walter Mulholland said it was more appropriate for our new standing in the community. And nobody disobeyed him." Certainly not James Monroe. "Big, dark furniture and drapes that looked petrified. The only noise was the hall clock. God, I hated it."
    To cut the echo of his vehemence, he produced a deprecating grin.
    "I guess I missed our old place. The neighborhood, my friends."
    In the tidy little house not far from the railroad tracks, his mother had baked cookies and helped him grow a tomato patch each summer. His father had taken the train into the city every day, and home every night.
    "We used to play baseball together, Dad and I. He'd been a pro. He had a tough time growing up. His folks were really poor, and baseball was his only real fun. He got through college on baseball scholarships and he started law school during off-seasons from the minors. He loves the game."
    In the drawn-out twilights of summer, his father had coached the Little League team or they'd just thrown the ball back and forth, an