Sleeping Beauty Read Free Page B

of being in the sunshine and smelling the flowers and the lake and you dehydrate and your skin peels off and floats away and after a while you’re all skeletons, sitting around clicking your bones—”
    â€œThat is quite enough,” Marian said firmly. “It’s very clever, dear, but it’s not appropriate and you know it. All we’re doing is finishing dinner in a leisurely and civilizedmanner, instead of gulping our food and then dashing off in all directions. We won’t stop you if you insist on leaving the table, but you’re not going to the forest. I’ve told you I don’t want you there. It is not a wholesome place. You’re not to go there at all. Ever.”
    â€œI’ll be back,” Anne said, and ran from the room.
    She could feel them watching her through the tall French windows as she ran across the broad lawn, her figure silhouetted against the deep-blue expanse of Lake Michigan until she disappeared into the pine forest that covered the rest of Ethan’s property. She kept running until she came to a clearing with a small pond bordered with grasses and daisies and wild hyssop that made the air smell of mint. Birds called to each other, but otherwise the silence was complete. Anne sat down, crossing her long, thin legs beneath the sundress she had worn for dinner. “Hi, Amy,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. There was this big blowup at the table. I think Aunt Marian’s going through menopause or something. You think thirty-three is too young? Maybe with her it doesn’t matter; maybe she’s just innately old.”
    She pulled a notebook and pencil from her pocket and began to write. “I’m making notes about the family; did I tell you? Someday I’m going to write a book about them. Of course nobody will believe it. I’m glad you’re here, Amy; it makes everything better to have somebody to talk to.”
    She lay on her back, wriggling into the earth like a puppy making a nest in the pine needles. She chewed on a fingernail and gazed upward. The treetops swayed above her in the evening breeze, their narrow trunks tapering to small points far above; Anne had to squint to see them against the brightness of the sky. “Listen to that, Amy. The trees are creaking. Like in a horror movie. Doesn’t it sound like a horror movie? Close your eyes and you can believe something really awful is about to happen.”
    She shivered and sat up. “Probably the spirit of Aunt Marian, slithering through the forest. Creeping respectability. We have to be on our guard, Amy.” She wrote again in her notebook. “Creeping respectability. Only, with Aunt Marian, it gallops.”
    A little distance away, standing among the trees, Vince Chatham chuckled. “Marian in a nutshell,” he said.
    Anne sprang to her feet. The notebook fell in the dirt. “Uncle Vince?” she said uncertainly.
    He walked forward. “I was walking and I heard your voice.” He looked around. “Your friend must have made a quick getaway.”
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” she asked furiously. “You weren’t out walking. You never take walks. You followed me.”
    He bent down to pick up her notebook. “Why won’t anybody believe what you write about us?”
    She flushed. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
    â€œBut you were talking about me; I’m part of your family.” He walked to a grassy area near the edge of the clearing and sat on a fallen log that had been worn down to a natural seat. “I brought dessert for both of us. I’d be pleased if you’d join me.”
    Anne stood still. “Where is it?”
    Vince reached behind him and brought a white box to his lap. “Chocolate éclairs. There is nothing in the world as good as chocolate éclairs. They’re a perfect blend of pastry, custard, and icing, they slide down the throat with ease no matter how