Whisper Beach Read Online Free PDF

“Holy crap. Think it still runs?”
    â€œTires still look good from here.”
    â€œWant to drive around the block and hope someone has decided to go home or should we—?”
    â€œPull onto the grass. Do you think Dorie has put in central air?”
    â€œWhat are the chances?”
    â€œOne can always hope.”
    Van turned into the drive, bumped over the cracked cement, and pulled onto the grass at an angle to the Caddy.
    As soon as they were stopped, Suze jumped out, grabbed her suitcase and computer case from the trunk, and lugged them to the porch of the old Victorian beach house.
    Van moved more slowly, a thousand emotions and forgotten memories vying for attention.
    At the first sight of the weathered old house, Van’s insides did a little leap of recognition. Now standing here looking at the porch with the old aluminum furniture, the seashell wreath on the door, familiarity warred with pleasure and a little knot of pain.
    So many times she’d taken refuge here, so many times they’d talked into the wee hours. Sitting on the lemonade porch in the dark, laughing or crying and fanning themselves with pieces of cardboard while citronella candles cast their light and scent into the darkness.
    Do not think of the good times. They were seductive, but they didn’t last. Only pain and hurt lasted. And she didn’t need any reminders of that.
    â€œVan, you’re going to melt if you stand there much longer. And since all the windows are closed, I’m guessing there might actually be air-conditioning inside.”
    Van slung her computer case over her shoulder and bumped her suitcase up the steps. She’d have to come back for the printer later.Even if she didn’t need it while she was here, she didn’t want to leave it in the trunk, prey to heat and passing felons.
    The suitcase rattled across the old floorboards as she made her way to the front door. She reached for the doorknob, but stopped. “We didn’t think to get the key.”
    â€œWhen did Dorie ever lock her door?”
    â€œShe should.” Van turned the doorknob. The door opened and they walked in. Right into—
    â€œHarold!”
    Harold Lister was in his seventies, but he hadn’t changed at all, except maybe having less hair. Medium height, scrawny with a little belly that hadn’t grown any that Van could tell, a prominent nose embellished with a mole that still held its usual place of prominence.
    Harold was never handsome, not even on a spruced-up day. But for some inexplicable reason, the ladies loved him and he loved them right back. The female staff did not. Most were college students or younger and they put up with his daily pinches, pats, and occasional groping with gritted teeth and determined silence. Working at the Blue Crab was a good job, and they didn’t want to lose it.
    He was wearing linen trousers and a short sleeve sports shirt and reeked of aftershave. Never a good sign with Harold.
    The two large suitcases that sat by the door weren’t either.
    â€œVan, Suzy. Aren’t you gonna say hello to old Harold?” He came forward and Van braced herself. He wasn’t much taller than she, but he managed to get her in a tight hug and patted her butt when he let go.
    She gritted her teeth but let it slide. He was Harold after all, the old dog of old dogs. And Dorie’s husband.
    â€œHarold,” Suze said as he changed course for the larger woman. “Good to see you.” She blew him a double air kiss and breezed right by him. “Going on a trip?” she asked from behind him.
    Harold, turned, smiled, winked. “Thought I’d give you all a little girl time.” He made a show of looking at his watch, which Van swore was a Rolex. “Gotta run. Have a good time. Mi casa su casa.” He wiggled his fingers at them, grabbed the bags, which nearly knocked him off balance, and banged them through the open door.
    Van turned to