Losing Francesca Read Free Page B

Chessie. Say hi and be polite!"
    All the extra kids chime out a hello and then promptly go back to whatever they were doing.
    "Francesca?"
    I look over at Angela. She's got a nice face, I can see why the father might like her. She's younger than him, probably by ten years at least. Her hair is a very light blonde and it's pulled back in a tight ponytail. She motions to a seat next to Lindsey and across from her. There's a plate there and as soon as I sit, one of the twin boys appears from behind and loads it up with eggs and bacon, then sets down a carafe of coffee and a large mug.
    Angela notices me staring at the mug. "We like large coffees in America." She shrugs, like this is something she can't really explain, it just is. I fill the mug, help myself from the cream and sugar from the middle of the table, and then start eating the eggs.
    Angela and Lindsey continue their chatter without me. Occasionally Lindsey adds a "Right, Chessie?" to her side of things, and I smile politely. The crowd starts to thin out and then Angela and Lindsey get up and tell me to come outside if I want when I'm finished.
    And just like that, I'm alone again.
    They don't seem too worried about me. I mean, they don't seem to think I'll run away or anything, or steal from them, or do something stupid like set the house on fire. They are very casual about the whole affair, really. For someone who might be a long-lost daughter.
    I hear footsteps on the hardwood floors making their way towards me and then Mr. Sullivan walks in. He stops short and stares at me for several uncomfortable seconds. "Oh, Francesca. I thought everyone had already gone outside."
    So he's avoiding me. That's a strange tactic for a man who went to court and asked a judge to force me to come live in his home for the summer. It ticks me off really, that he can pull this crap and then feel like he can ignore me or avoid me or whatever he thinks he's doing.
    " Io non sono Fiona Sullivan ."
    He nods and lets out a half-hearted breathy laugh, then pulls up a chair as far away from me as he can get. "I got that yesterday, thanks. You're not Fiona."
    The screen door from the kitchen smacks and Sean enters. "Francesca?" he calls. I watch him round the corner of the counter and then he spies me over the half wall that separates the two rooms. "Oh, there you are. I was just wondering if—"
    "Francesca and I need to have a chat, Sean. You mind translating since she's not in the mood to speak English to us?"
    "Uh…" He doesn't look too sure about that if you ask me. "OK. Shoot."
    "Do you ride, Francesca?"
    " Sì ."
    Obviously Sean doesn't need to translate this.
    "How well do you ride?"
    I shrug and look at Sean.
    "Have you taken lessons?"
    " Sì ."
    "Would you like a horse to ride while you're here?"
    " No ."
    Sean is definitely not needed for this conversation because Mr. Sullivan gets up and walks out.
    Sean puts his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, don't mind him. He's moody, but he'll get over it. Angela wanted me to ask you if you want to help her catch a horse in the back pasture. She's my horse actually, but I hurt my knee last fall and had to have surgery, so she's been ignored for a while. I'd go, but I'm outta here. Gotta work today. I'll see you tonight, OK?"
    And before I can answer he's back out the door and I'm alone again.
    They are all very strange. They treat me like I'm just another kid in their crazy family and not some long-lost sister who might have been living a secret life on the other side of the world for the past twelve years.
    But they could be a lot worse.
    Sure, Mr. Sullivan is a jerk, but if he's going to avoid me, then I'm OK with that. And Sean is very nice. I don't have any brothers or sisters, so I like his attention.
    I let out a deep breath and make my way outside to find Angela. Whenever I went away to boarding school my father would give me the same advice—find your smooth spot. By that he meant a place that makes life easy. And it doesn't have to be a