Updrift Read Free Page B

Nothing overt but they shared a physical vitality she found distinctive and beautiful.
    She surveyed the room and noticed other guests with these features, which caused her to conclude they were all related. Not that anyone would have noticed this similarity; the most apparent quality was every adult male wore as far as she could tell, the same glasses. Dark, rectangular frames with heavy lenses distorting their eyes. Lenses that reminded her of her grandfather and his friends except none of these people were as old as her grandfather.
    She heard her aunt’s voice, tinged with exasperation on the other side of the room. “Is everyone here a marine biologist, then?” As if on cue her mother inquired what the adults in their little group did when not attending birthday parties.
    “I’m a marine biologist,” Michael replied.
    “And I’m a marine biologist too,” Samuel added. “I teach at the university in Sommerset.” He nudged the boys on either side of him. “These two are still in high school. Carmen’s the only career rebel in the group.” He smiled at her.
    “So, you’re not a marine biologist?” her mother commented wryly.
    “Geneticist,” Carmen replied. “I freelance from home, writing and reviewing scientific articles mostly. And I’m not technically even a rebel. I studied marine biology as an undergrad. How did you come to be our town librarian, Cara?”
    When they were finally allowed to wander off and play with the other children, they didn’t, choosing instead to hide under a big table covered by a tablecloth and keep to themselves. They were quiet so no one would disturb them as they pretended they swam again, recreating their race through the seaweed forest as if they were the fastest, most agile creatures in the ocean.

Chapter 3
    Kate and Cara’s home life settled into a pleasing and comfortable rhythm revolving around the garden, cooking, and Cara’s job at the library. They made substantial dinners on the weekends and twisted the leftovers into simple but satisfying meals during the week with very little fuss, a pattern Kate soon adopted and followed without help. The roast chicken she’d enjoyed became chicken sandwiches the day after, and chicken soup the day after that. She loved cooking with her mother, which led to gardening with her as she was sent out for herbs or a leek or carrot. She initially asked what something was or if it was ready to eat, but she soon became a proficient helper.
    Their gardening habit attracted conversation and local growing advice—and ultimately friendship—from neighbors out for a stroll. One afternoon when her mother was reading to her on the front steps, a frazzled, buxom woman with three daughters stopped at the sidewalk leading to their house. They were carrying a basket and a tray of plants.
    “Hello, there!” the woman called cheerily. “Are you the new owners? We live down the street, and we’ve come to introduce ourselves. I’m Alicia Wilkes.”
    Her mother rose from the steps to greet them, wiping her hands on her shirttails. Kate hid behind her legs as the quartet approached. “I’m Cara Sweeting, and this is my daughter, Kate. I’m afraid I’ve been in the garden this morning and my hands aren’t clean enough to shake.”
    “Neither are mine!” Alicia laughed and showed her hands, which sported the same green-stained fingertips her mom had.
    “Oh well, in that case,” Cara grinned, extending her hand. Kate gawked at their pretty visitors, keenly interested in their freckles, curly hair, and matching sundresses.
    Alicia placed her arms around her girls. “These are my daughters, Maya, Sylvia, and Solange. I think Maya and Kate may be the same age. Is she in first grade this year?”
    “As a matter of fact, she is. She’s six as of this month,” Cara replied. Kate regarded Maya shyly.
    “Maya will be six in July. I’ve been meaning to get down here to meet you but haven’t been able to break away,” Alicia apologized.