Moonlight Mile Read Free

THE SIDEWALK along Magazine Street, dodging hurrying shoppers and strolling tourists. A stout middle-aged woman looked up from sweeping the stoop in front of a flower shop.
    â€œNina! Where you at, darlin’?” the shopkeeper called. “Haven’t stopped to see me in ages!”
    â€œSoon, Miss Vera, promise!” Nina called back without slowing her pace.
    An elderly man was sitting on the steps of the next shop reading a newspaper. He chuckled as Nina dashed by. “Running to meet your boyfriend, Miss Peralt?” he asked.
    This time Nina slowed just long enough to blow him a kiss. “You know you’re the only man for me, Mr. Otis,” she said as she took off again, the old man’s chuckles fading behind her.
    Finally she reached her street, barely slowing her pace for the sharp turn off Magazine and thus nearly running into a young mother pushing a baby stroller. Nina dodged just in time.
    â€œSorry, ma’am!” she called as she passed.
    â€œNo worries, Nina,” the woman, a neighbor from the other end of the block, called back. “Your mama was looking for you just now.”
    â€œI know, I’m late—thanks!” Nina tossed over her shoulder.
    A few steps later and she was home. The charming century-old cottage was the only place Nina had ever lived. Her parents had bought it for a song the year her father graduated from law school, mostly because it had a courtyard in the rear where her mother could work on her sculpture in the fresh air. The rest of the place had been a mess, at least according to the stories Nina’s aunts, uncles,older cousins, and grandparents delighted in retelling every chance they got. Falling-down walls, leaky pipes, cockroaches the size of a Chincoteague pony—the tales got taller every time, but that was how it went with her father’s side of the family. In any case, in the years since, Nina’s parents had transformed the interior into a bright, modern, art-filled space, though the outside retained every bit of its vintage appeal, the only real changes being a fresh coat of paint and an energy-efficient bulb in the antique porch light.
    As Nina was about to push open the metal gate and climb the steps onto the small front porch, she spotted a familiar figure hurrying toward her from the other end of the block. It was her father, his long limbs flapping and his briefcase slapping against his side.
    â€œYou’re late!” Nina called with a grin.
    â€œI know, I know.” He was out of breath as he reached her and leaned in for a quick peck on the forehead. “Hey, Boo. Your mother’s going to kill both of us, eh?”
    â€œProbably. We promised to be home like half an hour ago.” Nina sneaked a look at her watch as her fatherpushed open the sky-blue door, leading the way inside.
    When Nina followed, the first thing she heard was loud meowing as the family’s two Siamese cats, Bastet and Teniers, appeared as if out of thin air to wind around her legs and demand attention. The second thing she heard was even louder cursing coming from the back of the house.
    â€œUh-oh.” Her father dropped his briefcase on the rosewood console table beside the front door. “Sounds like she started without us.”
    â€œYeah.” Nina scooped up Teniers and hugged him despite his yowl of protest. “Sorry, kitty babies. Your dinner will have to wait.” She dropped the cat beside Bastet and hurried through the kitchen and down the narrow back hallway after her father.
    Her mother’s studio was a converted bedroom at the very back of the house, where the sun came in through two large windows and a row of French doors leading into the courtyard. The room had built-in shelves along one wall, while the rest was mostly open and dotted with bits and pieces of work and rolling bins of equipment.Sheets of oilcloth covered the wooden floorboards beneath half-finished clay sculptures. A few