June Read Free

heard of
Erie Canal,
Jack Montgomery was far down her list of favorite movie stars, well below Cary Grant and Bogie, and she’d have sniffed at the mention of Diane DeSoto—a studio actress who’d never been, until now, in a leading role. But Jack Montgomery and Diane DeSoto were (knock on wood) coming to St. Jude, which meant they were a hundred times better than every other movie star in the world.
    “Do you think Diane DeSoto really washes her face in milk? How tall is Jack Montgomery? Do you think they’re really in love? Will you audition too? You’ll try for it, won’t you, June? I know for sure I’d get cast if I looked like you.”
    “Hush.” June wouldn’t pretend she wanted to be cast. Nor would she tolerate the idea of Lindie crushed by rejection, when all she had to do was dress like a proper girl who washed her face every now and then; how could she be so blind to the advantage of those small improvements? June considered whether she was strong enough to wrestle Lindie into the dress herself, but she knew the other girl would beat her out of sheer cussedness.
    “I heard there might be speaking parts,” Lindie pressed, even though she’d made that up. “I bet you could get one.”
    “I can’t audition.” June rose from the bed and checked her face in the mirror again, an annoying habit she’d been exhibiting in recent months, along with rinsing her hair with apple cider vinegar to give it shine.
    “You absolutely can.”
    “No, Lindie.” June’s voice was firm. “I’m getting married. It’s not appropriate.”
    Lindie sat up. “You are not getting married.” June’s sharp look in the mirror told her to adjust her tone. “I only mean you can’t get married without a groom, June.” Arthur Danvers had been gone for months—since October—and who knew where? Supposedly, he was overseeing his brother’s business interests in the South, but Lindie wasn’t so sure. “And even if he was here, do you really want to spend your whole life looking up at that pasty face?”
    June’s mouth tightened. But now all Lindie could think of was the stiff way Artie Danvers had taken June’s arm back in October before their fateful turn around Center Square. He was a thirty-five-year-old bachelor funded by his older brother. As far as Lindie was concerned, the only way he’d snagged a girl like June was because she had a greedy mother desperate to sell her daughter off to the highest bidder. “Artie Danvers is a nothing! He’s a straight line. He’s a cold bath.” Her arms stuttered in the space between them, hands pulling for the words that would finally make June see sense. “He’s—”
    “Stop.”
    Was that June’s mother’s step in the upstairs hall, just on the other side of the door? The girls froze, straining to hear above the purr of the fan blades, waiting for a knock, for the scent of Pond’s cold cream, for Cheryl Ann to discover June had locked herself in, and insist she open the door right this instant, young lady. But no knock came, and, after a good long exhalation, June’s shoulders relaxed. She eased herself onto the bed again, brown hair haloing her face on the pillow.
    Lindie put herself down carefully beside June. “My point is, you can’t marry someone you don’t love.”
    “And how do you know I don’t love him?”
    “Because I know.”
    June smiled again, a weary smile, as if Lindie’s affection was something to be endured. “You’re sweet to me.”
    Lindie gentled her voice. “We can leave right now. On my bicycle. We’ll pedal over to Idlewyld and hide out until we come up with our next step.” As the name of that place slipped off her tongue, Lindie felt the memory of a frog quivering in her hands, out on the edge of that lake five miles away, on the night she’d had June all to herself and allowed herself to dream it could always be just them.
    “Little Bear.” June tucked Lindie’s bob behind her ear and fingered her earlobe. She rubbed it