Wind Chime Wedding (A Wind Chime Novel Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

her arm and then looked over at the pile of clothes on the bed. “What’s all this?”
    “I’m cleaning out my closet,” she said, opting for a half-truth. “I’m trying to decide what to keep and what to get rid of.”
    He walked over, picking up a dress that had fallen on the floor. “Are you getting rid of all these?”
    “No.” She took the dress from his hands and laid it back on the pile. “I’m just going through them.”
    He picked up a delicate cream-colored wrap with tiny pink flowers embroidered into the edges. His weathered waterman’s hands held it gently, lovingly, like it would disappear if he let it go.
    “I’m not getting rid of that, Dad,” Becca said softly. “I would never get rid of anything of Mom’s.”
    He looked up at her. Even after all these years, she could still see the grief reflected in his light brown eyes. “You know I have room in my house if you need to store anything.”
    “I know.” She took the wrap gently from his hands and hung it back up in the closet. Neither of them had ever been very good at getting rid of things. “Are you hungry?” she asked, changing the subject. “I think there’s some leftover fried chicken in the fridge.”
    He nodded and she let out a breath as they walked out of the room and headed for the kitchen. She grabbed two sodas from the fridge and handed him one. “Why don’t you turn on the game and I’ll heat up dinner?” she suggested.
    Pulling an Orioles frosty mug from the freezer, he poured his soda into it and wandered back out to the living room, rummaging through the cushions on the sofa for the remote control.
    Becca watched him run through the familiar routine. Her father came over almost every night for dinner. That was all going to change in a few weeks.
    What was he going to do when she left?
    Who would he eat with? Who would feed him?
    Sliding the chicken into the microwave, she reminded herself that her father was in his late fifties. He could take care of himself.
    Then, why did she feel so guilty?
    She scooped leftover mashed potatoes into a bowl and stole another glance back out at the living room. Her father had found the remote and was settling onto the sofa, flipping through the channels for the baseball game. He was wearing the same thing he always wore, a plain white T-shirt and faded bleach-stained khakis with sneakers so beat-up they looked like something he’d accidentally dredged up in one of his fishing nets.
    “How was your day?” she asked over the voice of the announcer calling the plays of the game.
    “Same as yesterday.”
    The microwave beeped and she pulled the chicken out, popping the mashed potatoes in and resetting the timer. Same as yesterday meant that whatever her father had pulled out of the Bay today wasn’t coming anywhere close to what he needed to make ends meet.
    It was still early in the season, but it seemed like every year the reports got worse. Retrieving the heated potatoes from the microwave, she filled their plates with food. She walked over to the sofa and set them down on the coffee table, just as her phone began to ring.
    “This might be Tom,” she said, digging the phone out of her pocket and checking the screen. Sure enough… “Hey,” she said brightly, picking up the call.
    “Hey,” Tom said. “Are you still coming to D.C. tonight?”
    “Tonight?” Her brows pinched together. “No. I’m staying here this weekend.”
    “You are?”
    “Yes.” She threw a quick glance at her father. “It’s Easter…”
    There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I completely forgot about that.”
    Becca covered the mouthpiece and smiled down at her father, pretending everything was fine. “I think I’ll make a salad,” she whispered as she headed back into the kitchen. As soon as she was out of earshot, she spoke back into the phone. “You forgot about Easter?”
    “Things have been crazy here. A big case came in today. Everyone’s been called back into the