A Penny's Worth (The Cephas Bourdon Series) Read Free Page B

Wow, what a sucker.
    I wiped a fake tear from my face, silently gloating at my sweet escape. I raised my sunglasses to look in the mirror, wiping at the slightly smeared mascara. I couldn’t even count the number of times I had gotten out of speeding tickets. I giggled a little, but my voice caught in my throat. Another tear slipped across my cheek. ‘Go talk to your mother about it,’ he had said. I watched my face scrunch up with emotion. A frown crossed my brow and upturned my mouth. I straightened my furrowed eyebrows and tore my gaze away from the mirror, trying to clear my mind. Stop thinking about, Emmaline, I coaxed my fragile emotions. Usually once I started crying, I couldn’t stop. That all happened a long time ago, anyway. I gripped the steering wheel and shook my head to clear my mind. I turned my attention back to the road as I pushed the gas pedal farther to the floor, reveling in the rush of the quick acceleration.
    I veered right, entering onto the highway. Woods Bay, Montana was a small town filled with a small amount of people who led very small lives. Nobody did much in Woods Bay; if somebody did head off to college, h only moved about one hundred miles south to Missoula. Most of my neighbors were retired or ‘drove truck’ as they called it. I was born in Woods Bay — well, in Kalispell, really, because no hospital existed in Woods Bay. In fact, Woods Bay couldn’t even boast a grocery store. The only big thing ab out Woods Bay was Flathead Lake. A ll of the houses lined the lake’s edge, so most docks were private. I went to school in Big Fork, and my dad bought groceries in Kalispell, though that wasn’t very often. We mostly ate Chinese. The people in Woods Bay spoke in drawled voices, like the police officer who pulled me over, but my mother had never let me develop a ‘twang.’ She wasn’t from here. Lucky. I slammed on the breaks as I entered the gravel driveway. My mother would make me chocolate chip cookies right now if she were here.
    Breathe, Emmaline, Breath. I took a deep breath and relaxed into my seat, then threw open the car door. My footsteps pattered across the walkway that led up to my front door. The pathway wound around the corner of our white stucco house to two white, stucco columns. A pair of lush, green plants sat beside the dark, wooden door. Original stained glass filled the space above the door, colored with blue, purple, and green. When the sun shone through the glass, a kaleidoscope of colors reflected onto the wall directly behind the door. But the sun wasn’t shining right now. I pushed open the heavy door and dropped my book bag on the entry table. I walked down the hallway to peer into the living room.
    “Dad!” I called, flipping on the living room light. He was forever ‘saving’ electricity. “Dad!” I shouted again, though I could never be even the slightest bit put out about my father, regardless of his annoying habit to always work in the dark.
    “In here, pumpkin,” a deep, resonating voice replied. I made my way to the office. The man sat in a large, black chair at an old, wooden desk. He leaned over a paper and studied it, his eyes close to the desk. Sleek, black - rimmed glasses sat atop his prominent nose while a pen twitched in his hovering hand. His dark hair stuck out in every direction, contradicting the stern concentration that marked his square jaw. He was quite handsome for forty - three. Dark eyes peered through the glasses as he glanced up, an easy smile flashing across his bronzed face.
    “How’s my girl?” he asked, his arm opening up for a familiar hug. I smiled and walked over to my father, giving him a quick embrace. He held me away from him and eyed my facial features. His eyes twinkled, then softened.
    “You look so much like your mother,” he said nostalgically. I rolled my eyes and pushed away.
    “Oh, Dad. You know I look just like you,” I rejoined. “I’m going upstairs.”
    “Don’t you want dinner?” he