Luanne Rice Read Free Page A

bread, grapes, Brie, saucisson, and a bottle of wine.
    “Hi,
Clara,” Maeve said. The two women bumped straw hats as they kissed.
    “The roses
look so beautiful this year,” Clara said.
    “Thank you
… look at Mara’s beach roses—they’ve really come into
their own, haven’t they?”
    “They
have,” Clara said, and the two women admired the full bushes, lush with pink
blooms, planted by Mara the year her parents drowned. So many years ago, meant
to cherish her parents’ memory, and now they were all Maeve had of Mara
herself. Maeve’s eyes filled with tears, and she felt Clara’s arm slip around
her.
    “You
brought us a picnic?” Maeve asked.
    “Of course. I can’t come to stay at your house without
bringing food. It’s like those sleepovers we had sixty years ago, when we’d
take turns providing the s’mores.”
    “The
sleepovers continue,” Maeve said, smiling. “No matter how old we are …”
    Clara
laughed, hugging her again, almost making Maeve forget the reason for this
particular sleepover, this picnic. Every June for the last eight years, Maeve’s
best friend had come over to stay, to spend the night before that day when Mara
put down the green garden hose and yellow watering can, slipped off her yellow
boots, and walked out of her grandmother’s yard forever.
    Forever was
such a long time.
    But, Maeve
thought, holding Clara’s hand as they walked into the kitchen to delve into the
picnic basket, it went by just a little easier when you had a best friend by
your side.

Chapter 2
     
    T he two girls had missed the bus, so they walked
home from school, kicking a pebble ahead of them on the bumpy road high above
the Gulf of St. Lawrence. They took turns. First Jessica would give it a good
smack with her sneaker, send it bouncing along. When they caught up to the
stone, Rose would take her shot. In between kicks, they walked and talked.
    “Favorite
color,” Rose said.
    “Blue.
Favorite animal,” Jessica said.
    “Cats. Favorite book.”
    “The Lion,
the Witch, and the Wardrobe.”
    “Mine too.”
Rose laughed as she kicked the pebble and got air, sending it in a long arc
down the middle of the road. “Did you see that?”
    “Okay, you
get the gold medal,” Jessica said. “Back to Question Time.”
    “We’ve
played this before,” Rose said. “We already know the answers to all the
questions.”
    “Not all the questions,” Jessica said mysteriously.
“We’ve only been friends since I moved here in April. I’ll bet you don’t even
know where I’m from.”
    “Boston,”
Rose said.
    “That’s
just what we tell people,” Jessica said. She had a pretend-scary look on her
freckled face. “But there are secrets that even my best friend won’t know— until she asks me …”
    Rose
giggled. She and Jessica were almost nine, and it felt delicious to imagine
that her new friend had deep dark secrets—and to know that to find out about
them, all she had to do was ask. Mulling that over, she walked in silence. Off
to the left, the Gulf of St. Lawrence stretched on forever. It was very calm
and bright blue, with just the finest of haze spread like a silk scarf over its
surface. Rose knew, when she saw haze like that, summer was almost here. She
scanned the bay, in search of Nanny … when summer came, so did Nanny.
    Jessica
mis-kicked the pebble into the weeds, so she started over with a new one. Rose
inched a little way down the bank to find the old stone; something made her want
to keep it, so she put it in her pocket. By the time she looked up, Jessica had
disappeared around the bend. Rose skipped a few steps. When she broke into a
run, her heart fluttered like a trapped bird.
    “Don’t you
want to know?” Jessica asked, dribbling the pebble the way she did a soccer
ball on the field.
    “Sure,”
Rose said.
    “Then ask,”
Jessica teased. “Go on—I’ll give you a clue. Ask me my real name.”
    “I know
it—it’s Jessica Taylor.”
    “Maybe it
is, maybe it isn’t.