Read Online Aurora 04 - The Julius House by Charlaine Harris - Free Book Online

living, much less still living in Lawrenceton.
    “There, you didn’t know all that, did you?” said Neecy in a pleased way. “Not too many of us around to remember things the way they were.”
    “Thanks for telling me,” I said sincerely.
    “Oh, we old people aren’t much good for anything except remembering,” Neecy said with a deprecatory wave of her hand.
    Of course, I protested as I was supposed to, and she ended up happy, which she was supposed to. I thanked her profusely for her gift of scented “guest” soap shaped like seashells, and that pleased her, too.
    She got up to go and thought of one more thing to say. “That man you’re marrying, Aurora, is it true he’s from Chicago, Illinois?”
    “Well, he moved here from Chicago. Actually, he grew up in Ohio.”
    Neecy Dawson shook her head slowly from side to side. She patted me absently on the shoulder and began steering her way over to my mother. I saw her engage my mother in serious conversation.
    Later, when we were loading the presents into the trunk of Mother’s car, I asked her what Neecy had been saying. Mother laughed.
    “Well, if you really want to know—she asked me if it was really true that you were marrying a Yankee. I said, ‘Well, Miss Neecy, he is from Ohio.’ And she said, ‘Poor Aida. I know you’re worried. But there are some nice ones. Aurora will be all right, honey.’”

Chapter Five
    NOW THAT I’D TAKEN ON renovating the Julius house—I just couldn’t think of it as the Zinsner house—the time before the wedding flew by. I got the apartment above the garage finished first. The carpet was laid within three days after the painter finished the trim. I cleaned the furniture I’d bought, positioned it invitingly, relined the kitchen shelves, cleaned the stove, and made the bed. I’d gotten a set of china for four at WalMart, and some wedding gift pots and pans I didn’t need went into the kitchen cabinets. I put towels in the bathroom, hung a shower curtain, and arranged some of the seashell soap in a soap dish. It looked pretty and inviting and clean, and I hoped I’d done Martin’s friends proud.
    The work on the big house went slower. Some of the workmen I wanted were busy, and the carpet took longer to come than it was supposed to, and I had a hard time picking out paint and wallpaper. I was frantic to have it finished; my townhouse and Mother’s guest bedroom were overflowing with the wedding gifts and furniture I’d kept from Jane Engle’s house. Martin’s furniture was still in storage at a warehouse closer in to Atlanta, and I made a trip there to see what he had. In between making decisions, fretting over delays, and spending hours worrying, I had to get dressed appropriately and punctually for the remaining parties in our honor.
    Now, these are all very pleasant problems to have, I know. But I did begin to get tired, and frayed, and desperate. Martin seemed unprecedentedly grim, too, though his bad mood didn’t seem to have anything to do with the wedding.
    So I was really glad to greet the Youngbloods when they arrived from Florida. I was at the Julius house when they drove in at noon one day about a week and a half before the wedding.
    Angel Youngblood emerged from the dusty old Camaro first. Her legs swung out and out and out, and then the rest of her followed. I gaped. Angel was easily as tall as her husband. Muscular and sleek as a cheetah, she had pale blond hair gathered up in a ponytail. She was wearing the loose sheeting pants that weightlifters wear when they train, and a gray tank top. She had a broad, thin-lipped mouth, a straight nose, and brilliant blue eyes in a narrow face. She wore no makeup. She looked around her carefully, her eyes gliding right over me and then coming back to note me. We looked at each other curiously.
    “I’m Aurora,” I said finally, shaking her hand, which was an experience for both of us. “You must be Angel?”
    “Yes,” she said. “It’s been a long