Rainy Day Sisters Read Free

and Juliet moved aside.
    â€œYou look like a drowned rat. You’d better come in.”
    Lucy stepped into the little entryway of Juliet’s house, a surprisingly friendly jumble of umbrellas and Wellington boots cluttering the slate floor along with the dogs. She would have expected her sister to have every boot and brolly in regimental order, but maybe she didn’t know Juliet well enough to know how she kept her house. Or maybe her sister was just having an off day.
    â€œThey’re rescue dogs—they’ll jump at a mouse,” Juliet explained, for the two greyhounds were trembling. “They’ll come round eventually. They just have to get used to you.” She snapped her fingers, and the dogs obediently retreated to their baskets.
    â€œCup of tea,” she said, not a question, and led Lucy into the kitchen. The kitchen was even cozier than the hall, with a large dark green Aga cooking range taking up most of one wall and emitting a lovely warmth, a circular pine table in the center, and a green glass jar of wildflowers on the windowsill. It was all so homely, so comforting, and so not what Lucy had expected from someone as stern and officious as Juliet, although again she was acting on ignorance. How many conversations had she even had with Juliet, before that wretched phone call? Five? Six?
    Still the sight of it all, the Aga and the flowers and even the view of muddy sheep fields outside, made her spirits lift. This was a place she could feel at home in. She hoped.
    She sank into a chair at the table as Juliet plonked a brass kettle on one of the Aga’s round hot plates.
    â€œSo you start next week.”
    â€œYes—”
    â€œYou ought to go up to the school tomorrow, and check in with Alex.”
    â€œAlex?”
    Juliet turned around, her straight eyebrows drawn together, her expression not precisely a frown, but definitely not a smile. “Alex Kincaid, the head teacher. You spoke with him on the phone, remember?” There was a faint note of impatience or even irritation in Juliet’s voice, which made Lucy stammer in apology.
    â€œOh, yes, yes, of course. Mr. Kincaid. Yes. Sorry.” She was not actually all that keen to make Alex Kincaid’s acquaintance. Given how unimpressed by her he’d seemed for the ten excruciating minutes of their phone interview, she thought he was unlikely to revise his opinion upon meeting her.
    And she was unlikely to revise hers; she already had a picture of him in her head: He would be tall and angular with short-cut steel gray hair and square spectacles. He’d have one of those mouths that looked thin and unfriendly, and he would narrow his eyes at you as you spoke, as if incredulous of every word that came out of your mouth.
    Oh, wait, maybe she was picturing her last boss, Simon Hansen, when he’d told her he was canceling her art exhibition.
Sorry, Lucy, but after the bad press we can hardly go ahead with the exhibit. And in any case, your mother’s not coming anyway.
    As for Alex Kincaid, now that she remembered that irritated voice on the phone, she decided he’d be balding and have bushy eyebrows. He’d blink too much as he spoke and have a nasal drip.
    All right, perhaps that was a little unfair. But he’d definitely sounded as if he’d had his sense of humor surgically removed.
    â€œI’m sure you’re completely knackered now,” Juliet continued, “but tomorrow I’ll give you a proper tour of the village, introduce you.” She nodded, that clearly decided, and Lucy, not knowing what else to do, nodded back.
    It was so
strange
being here with her sister, sitting across from her in this cozy little kitchen, knowing she was actually going to live here and maybe get to know this sibling of hers who had semi-terrified her for most of her life. Intimidated, anyway, but perhaps that was her fault and not Juliet’s.
    In any case, when Lucy had needed someone to