Read Online Island Girl by Lynda Simmons - Free Book Online Page B

been?” I demanded.
    “Birding,” she said, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You use the sunscreen?”
    I lied and said, “Yes,” because it was easiest.
    “Good.” She dumped her book and binoculars on the table, headed for the fridge. “When’s my first appointment?”
    “June McKnight at nine.”
    I watched her put eggs in the pan. Bread in the toaster. Click on the kettle. “You eaten?” she asked. I shook my head and she broke two more eggs into the pan, slipped two more slices of bread into the toaster. “How was your paddle?”
    “I won forty dollars,” I told her, still trying to figure out the kiss. And the sunscreen. “So is it over?”
    “Is what over?”
    “Your snit. Is it over?”
    “I wasn’t in a snit, I was just ...” She paused, obviously searching for a word. “I was preoccupied.”
    I crossed my arms. “Grace, who told you to say that? What have you been up to? If you’ve been talking to the park workers again, I will be so annoyed. I’ve told you time and again what those men are like—”
    “I haven’t been talking to anyone. I’ve been thinking, that’s all.” She smiled and flipped the eggs. “How did you win forty dollars?”
    While I told her about the race, she took mugs from the cupboard, silver from the drawer, and the morning chugged on as usual. Except she was still in no hurry to tell me where she’d been or what she’d found. Kiss and sunscreen aside, something was definitely wrong.
    When her back was to me, I took out my notebook, scribbled Follow Grace under her password, and jumped again at the sound of footsteps and voices bickering outside.
    Grace was already smiling by the time someone knocked on the door. I glanced at the clock, then over at the appointment book. Whoever was out there was early. But whoever it was didn’t wait for me to answer the knock. Simply turned the handle and walked into my life.
    “Hey,” he said, and grinned at Grace. “You making coffee this morning?”
    “You’re here!” She raced over and hugged him hard while I slipped the notebook back into my pocket. That’s when I noticed the girl slouching against the doorframe behind him.
    I’d seen her before. In the picture on his desk. She was a little older now. Maybe twelve but definitely the type that stood out in a crowd. Tall and thin with bloodred hair, a stark white face, and black eyeliner that not only circled her eyes but also dotted her cheeks with tear drops. She wore a black T-shirt, black boots, and a short black skirt with Hated printed across the hem.
    A baby Goth. How precious. But underneath it all she was a pretty girl. Prettier than she’d been in the picture at least, which was a blessing. No girl should look like Mark.
    He drew her forward. “Ruby, Grace. This is my daughter, Jocelyn.”
    “This is gay,” she said in that bored tone that only adolescents do well. “Can we go?”
    “Anytime you like,” I told her, and turned to Mark. “What are you doing here?”
    “Paying a call on our new neighbors.” He produced a cup from behind his back. “Can we borrow some sugar?”
    Grace was already on her way to the pantry, but I stopped her midstride. “No, you cannot borrow sugar and what are you talking about? Whose neighbors?”
    “Yours.” He carried the empty cup over to Grace. “Fill it with coffee instead.”
    She smiled and returned to the stove, flipping our eggs onto a plate before taking the coffee from the cupboard and the French press from the shelf, acting as if nothing was wrong. As though having him here was a dandy thing.
    For her, it probably was. They’d been close when she was little. But she hadn’t seen him in years. Not since she moved back to the Island at least.
    “What’s going on here?” I demanded.
    “I’m moving back,” he said.
    I stared at him. “Moving back where?”
    “I can’t stand this,” Jocelyn said. “I’m going outside.”
    “Young lady, you sit down and be polite.” He pointed to my