Read Online A Summer Affair by Elin Hilderbrand - Free Book Online

sensitive?
    “Yeah,” Claire said.
    “I can’t take on one more thing,” Julie said. “I just can’t.”
    “Right,” Claire said. “I understand.”
    “Me, either,” Delaney Kitt said.
    “Me, either,” Amie Trimble said. “Ted would kill me. It always seems harmless to join this committee or that committee, but it ends up being hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars.”
    “Yeah,” Julie said. She grinned at Claire. “But it’s great that you’re doing it, Claire. You’re a good egg, making time in your life for this.”
    “ Such a good egg,” Delaney echoed.
    “It’s going to be so much work,” Amie said. “Better you than me!”
    Claire was late getting home from the rec fields because there was an injured bird on the side of the road. She saw it there, the sparrow or wren, hit by a car, maybe, or nipped by someone’s dog, injured, struggling, but not dead. The kids were limp and exhausted in the backseat; they didn’t see the bird, and Claire thought, Keep going! She only had five minutes to get home in time to relieve Pan. But no, she couldn’t ignore it. When she pulled over and said, “Look at that poor little bird,” the kids perked up a little, but they did not get out of the car.
    Claire knelt by the bird. Something was wrong with its leg and its wing. It hopped lopsidedly. Claire heard a car horn. Amie Trimble slowed down.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Injured birdie patrol,” Claire said.
    Amie shook her head, smiled, drove off.
    Claire reached out to pick up the bird, but the bird was having none of it. It hopped out of her reach, and Claire hurried down the sandy border of the road chasing it. Julie Jackson drove by. Claire stood up and looked at the back of Julie’s car. Claire was the only person she knew who would stop for a bird, she was the only person she knew who would agree to cochair something as colossal and consuming as the gala—but instead of making her feel virtuous, she felt like a bloody fool. You’re a good egg, making time in your life for this. She didn’t have time— Get back in the car! —but she could not in good conscience leave the lame little bird here. She sneaked up on the bird and got a hand under it. The kids were cheering her on now from the car. This was all the little bird needed: it got aloft, flew away. Claire was relieved. She headed back to the car. The kids were clapping.
    A few days later, Claire and Siobhan went on one of their rare girls’ nights out, just the two of them, eating cheeseburgers and frites and drinking wine at Le Languedoc. There was a viognier on the wine list, and Claire’s mind flickered to Lock and how she had wanted, more than anything during that meeting, to please him. She ordered the wine, but she did not bring up the topic of Lock Dixon with Siobhan, because if she had, Siobhan would have teased her. Siobhan had something of the schoolyard bully in her. She taunted, she poked, she prodded; she was always making outlandish suggestions and daring Claire to join her. It was commonly understood that Siobhan was naughty and Claire was nice; Claire was sweet and Siobhan was spicy; Siobhan carried the pitchfork, Claire wore the halo. Siobhan cursed like a sailor and danced on tabletops. Claire carried spiders outside instead of smushing them in a paper towel like a normal person. Siobhan was the one people wanted to be stuck with on a deserted island; Claire was the choice if the plane was going down and there was only one parachute. She would hand it right over.
    “Let’s go to the Chicken Box,” Siobhan said now. “Find a couple of hot guys and go dancing.”
    “No way,” Claire said.
    Siobhan frowned. Her darling square glasses slipped down her nose. “You’re no fun,” she said, inhaling her wine. “Why couldn’t I have gotten a sister-in-law who was fun? You’re a boring bore.”
    Yes, Claire felt like a boring bore, but she also felt virtuous, and doubly so because she knew Siobhan wouldn’t go