Mundahlia (The Mundahlian Era, #1) Read Free Page A

on table tops, and kiss random strangers?” I said, trying to poke at her past. “Sounds fun—count me in.”
    “I am over that part of my life. I’m a grown woman who is happily married now, thank you very much! Don’t make me reconsider this arrangement and drive you back to Del Rio so you can stay with my parents.” She was serious, or so the look on her face had shown. “How would you like to spend four months in a house full of glass figurines, and watch Spanish telenovelas all day!”
    “It was a joke!” I said, trying to lighten things up. I shuddered the thought of Tia Linda’s weird obsession with animal glass figurines and old Mexican dolls, away. Especially the image of Tio Benito walking around the house all day in nothing but socks and drooping tighty-whities. Instead, I focused on her semi-recent marriage. “By the way, how is Marine George?”
    “Why do you call him that? It makes him seem like-”
    “G.I. Joe?” I snickered.
    “Watch it.”
    “Okay, sheesh.” I sat up and pulled the lever to adjust the seat back to its upright position.
    She continued, “He’s fine. Taking a day off work to get things built and ready in the nursery.”
    “How is the little one?” My mom had told me a couple of months ago that Celeste was expecting. I had seen it first hand when she came to pick me up this morning. She looked like she had swallowed a whole melon and it stayed still, unsure where to go next.
    “Still cooking.” Celeste rubbed her noticeable round belly. “The doctor said he’s going to be really big.”
    “Aww,” I gushed. “Just like his mommy.”
    “Rini!” Celeste warned. “One more rude comment and it’s straight back to Del Rio for you!”
    “I kid! I kid!” She was clearly angry, because she raised the volume of the radio and huffed. Geez. Talk about mood swings.
    “This damn rain!” she muttered to herself as she squinted at the road through the glasses she used only to drive. “Can’t see a damn thing!”
    I retrieved a book—one of the many I was sure to bring—from my purse, and cracked it open—smelling the pages first—then picked up reading where I had dogeared the corner. Ah, books!
    ...
    The rain had let up half an hour back when we arrived in Austin. To my surprise, Celeste lived in the outskirts, or country part of the city, which wasn’t really in the city of Austin anymore, but that’s what she associated it as. The last bit of sun was hidden behind sky high trees that surrounded us in seclusion—making it almost pitch dark if it weren’t for the lights of her two-story farm-style house. It must get pretty freaky out here.
    I stared at the single muddy road that we had turned onto about ten minutes back. A few miles to the right were the streets that take you to the main city, but on the left, the road meandered on into an abyss of mystery. Creepy. “What’s over there?” I pointed, while fetching my luggage from the trunk of the vehicle.
    Celeste flipped her hair over her shoulder to scope what had caught my interest. “I don’t know. People live down there, but really all we ever see is their cars coming and going. They’re very secluded.” Celeste continued toward the house. “Come on, let’s head inside. There’s a cold front coming.” I could already feel it making its descent.
    The inside of the house looked as if it belonged on the cover of a magazine. Fresh cut flowers were arranged in a large striped vase in the corner, and the crystal chandelier hanging above us was reflected in the glossy marble floor. Clearly not what you’d expect from a farm house, but this was her, always wanting luxury.
    “Wow. It’s nice, Celeste,” I said, shutting the door and eyeing up the place I would call home—temporarily.
    “Thank you. Make yourself at home.” Celeste threw her purse on a small round end table and headed for large wooden double doors at the end of the grand room. “I’m going to go check on George in the kitchen,” she