September Canvas Read Free Page B

couldn’t care less about Faythe’s breasts.
    Faythe completed her run in forty-five minutes, making sure she didn’t fall over the construction workers at the Mahoneys’ dock. The three men whistled appreciatively and she waved at them. She didn’t think they recognized the sweaty jogger as Faythe Hamilton, so-called glamorous TV personality, which was refreshing. She glanced through the trees toward Deanna’s cabin when she passed it, but caught no sign of her, then sprinted the last of the way once she reached Nellie’s property.
    * * *
    When Faythe jogged past Deanna’s cabin a second time, she told herself she merely wanted to make sure her new neighbor was all right after she passed the construction workers. Faythe seemed to look her way, but she wasn’t sure. She easily pictured Faythe tossing her head back and laughing at the thought of the stupid flamingoes. Her laughter, musical and slightly husky, had tugged at the corners of Deanna’s mouth. She couldn’t remember when she’d smiled last, or laughed so freely. Faythe was a stunningly beautiful woman, but the way her eyes sparkled lingered with Deanna more than her physical beauty. The mere fact that it did linger worried her. She had to ignore this response and focus on what mattered, like she normally did. The townspeople would soon tell Faythe what kind of person Deanna was.
    Deanna’s cell phone rang, and she jumped and checked the display.
    The words “Miranda’s School” made her frown and she answered quickly. “Deanna Moore speaking.”
    “Deanna, this is Irene Costa.”
    “Irene! Is something wrong?”
    “No, no. Miranda is doing fine. I just wanted to tell you that you can’t visit her this evening.”
    Deanna knew what Irene would say. “My mother is visiting when she’s not supposed to.” Squeezing her eyes closed, Deanna tried to suppress the anger that rose inside her. “It’s Saturday.”
    “And she normally comes on Sundays. She called the floor and told us she’d be here today instead.”
    “It will mess with Miranda’s head. She doesn’t do too well with last-minute changes. Mother knows that.”
    “We just have to work around it. Should I tell Miranda you’ll see her tomorrow instead?”
    “No, don’t do that. Miranda knows I come on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. If I change days so soon after our mother, she’ll be all screwed up.” Over the last two years Miranda had become completely dependent on having set routines on certain weekdays. “Tell her that I will see her on Monday, since Mother is coming today. Perhaps she’ll buy it.”
    “Good thinking. She just might. Miranda’s doing so well. It would be a shame for her to have a setback because of this.” Irene’s voice softened. “Why don’t you put your free Saturday evening to good use?” Deanna bristled, but Irene meant well. The middle-aged woman had taken care of Miranda ever since their mother enrolled her at the Tremayne Foundation and School nine years ago, when she was seven.
    Irene was in charge of the six students in the section of the boardinghouse where Miranda lived and had been very good to her.
    “Has she spoken a lot today?” Deanna directed the subject away from her nonexistent private life.
    “Actually, she has. She really loved your picnic in the garden the other day. She’s talked about it a lot and seems to want to do it again.” Deanna had packed a picnic basket and invited Miranda to go outside. Miranda was usually nervous about being outdoors and thrived in a disturbance-free environment, but Irene had made sure they had the lawn to themselves for an hour. Of course, Miranda had acted as if she were seeing the garden for the first time, though, as usual, she rocked and murmured the same unintelligible sounds. She calmed down only when Deanna poured orange juice for them and unpacked the cinnamon buns and other treats, since they always seemed to reach her. Soon she was on her back pointing at the clouds,