Read Online Keeping Time: A Novel by Stacey Mcglynn - Free Book Online
Authors: Stacey Mcglynn
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date and time of your arrival. We’ll be happy to pick you up at the airport.”
“Gorgeous,” Daisy, repeating, barely thinking straight. “I was hoping to come in a few days if that would be okay.” Stumbling over her words. Turning back to face Dennis. Seeing him sitting at attention, tuned into her every word.
Ann, saying, “That would be fine. Take my telephone number, call me when you have the tickets and the times all sorted out.”
“Gorgeous,” Daisy, repeating, worrying that Ann was thinking she was a simpleton who knew only one word.
Ann was thinking no such thing, of course. She was thinking she should get off the phone to break up the fight brewing between Matthew and Brandon over a purple crayon—before one or both ended up in tears.
Daisy, taking the number, thanking Ann. A whole new Daisy returning to the table. Picking up her tea, sipping it happily, filling Dennis in on Ann’s end of the conversation.
Despite himself, Dennis, totally interested. He vaguely knew he had American cousins—his mother had mentioned it from time to time through the years—but he had never given them any thought. Now they suddenly had names: Ann, Elisabeth. They had just become real. He had to pull himself back to the reason he was there, finding that he would rather be thinking about these new cousins, this Ann and her daughter Elisabeth and to imagine them and their lives in New York. On Long Island.
But he had a job to do—two jobs to do: One in Liverpool, where he was desperately behind. The other right there in that kitchen, wh
TWELVE
DART MAN STRIKES AGAIN!
Ann, hearing it on the nightly news. On TV. While preparing a steak, salad, and mashed potatoes for herself, David, Josh, Michael and Pete for dinner. Suddenly wondering if it really could be Richard. Chastising herself immediately. No way. It was ludicrous. He was and always had been a model husband and father, hardworking, responsible, and kind, with never a bad word to say about anyone. Ann had no idea what had gotten into her daughter’s head—where and why this flight of fancy had taken hold—but she was sure she didn’t need it nesting in her own head, too.
Plopping a heap of mashed potatoes on each plate, wondering if Elisabeth had heard the news and, if she had, what she had thought. Hoping that by now she had found it completely irrelevant to her life.
She hadn’t.
When Elisabeth saw the news on the Internet, she was knee-deep in a corporate tax return that was days behind; four and a half minutes into a telephone conversation with Michael’s European History teacher, Mrs. Caulfield, about his latest frightening grade; and her concern about what he was going to get on the state Regents exam. The teacher was mystified as to why her top student had tanked so thoroughly and so quickly.
“Has something been going on at home recently, Mrs. Jetty, that could be affecting him?” Mrs. Caulfield, asking politely. Afraid to pry.
“Now let me think,” Elisabeth, stalling for time. “Um.” Could it be that his father was Dart Man? Could that turn an A student into a nincompoop? “Well,” Elisabeth, saying. Thinking that even before Richard might have started shooting darts at women, he hadn’t been home before Michael went to bed more than three times since Christmas. It’s June now. Could that be it? Or was it that Richard, who once coached Michael’s baseball games, had gone to exactly one of them all season? Or that Richard had his nose glued to his BlackBerry every weekend? Or that when he wasn’t staring at the BlackBerry, he was staring at the TV? Could that be what had been turning Michael, the former ace student, into a dolt? The former gifted classical pianist into a pop music iPod-addicted groupie? The former history buff into a pop culture devotee? The former healthy, happy family participant, who had always had time for his younger brothers, into an antisocial lockbox?
Or could it be that Elisabeth was stretched so
“Gorgeous,” Daisy, repeating, barely thinking straight. “I was hoping to come in a few days if that would be okay.” Stumbling over her words. Turning back to face Dennis. Seeing him sitting at attention, tuned into her every word.
Ann, saying, “That would be fine. Take my telephone number, call me when you have the tickets and the times all sorted out.”
“Gorgeous,” Daisy, repeating, worrying that Ann was thinking she was a simpleton who knew only one word.
Ann was thinking no such thing, of course. She was thinking she should get off the phone to break up the fight brewing between Matthew and Brandon over a purple crayon—before one or both ended up in tears.
Daisy, taking the number, thanking Ann. A whole new Daisy returning to the table. Picking up her tea, sipping it happily, filling Dennis in on Ann’s end of the conversation.
Despite himself, Dennis, totally interested. He vaguely knew he had American cousins—his mother had mentioned it from time to time through the years—but he had never given them any thought. Now they suddenly had names: Ann, Elisabeth. They had just become real. He had to pull himself back to the reason he was there, finding that he would rather be thinking about these new cousins, this Ann and her daughter Elisabeth and to imagine them and their lives in New York. On Long Island.
But he had a job to do—two jobs to do: One in Liverpool, where he was desperately behind. The other right there in that kitchen, wh
TWELVE
DART MAN STRIKES AGAIN!
Ann, hearing it on the nightly news. On TV. While preparing a steak, salad, and mashed potatoes for herself, David, Josh, Michael and Pete for dinner. Suddenly wondering if it really could be Richard. Chastising herself immediately. No way. It was ludicrous. He was and always had been a model husband and father, hardworking, responsible, and kind, with never a bad word to say about anyone. Ann had no idea what had gotten into her daughter’s head—where and why this flight of fancy had taken hold—but she was sure she didn’t need it nesting in her own head, too.
Plopping a heap of mashed potatoes on each plate, wondering if Elisabeth had heard the news and, if she had, what she had thought. Hoping that by now she had found it completely irrelevant to her life.
She hadn’t.
When Elisabeth saw the news on the Internet, she was knee-deep in a corporate tax return that was days behind; four and a half minutes into a telephone conversation with Michael’s European History teacher, Mrs. Caulfield, about his latest frightening grade; and her concern about what he was going to get on the state Regents exam. The teacher was mystified as to why her top student had tanked so thoroughly and so quickly.
“Has something been going on at home recently, Mrs. Jetty, that could be affecting him?” Mrs. Caulfield, asking politely. Afraid to pry.
“Now let me think,” Elisabeth, stalling for time. “Um.” Could it be that his father was Dart Man? Could that turn an A student into a nincompoop? “Well,” Elisabeth, saying. Thinking that even before Richard might have started shooting darts at women, he hadn’t been home before Michael went to bed more than three times since Christmas. It’s June now. Could that be it? Or was it that Richard, who once coached Michael’s baseball games, had gone to exactly one of them all season? Or that Richard had his nose glued to his BlackBerry every weekend? Or that when he wasn’t staring at the BlackBerry, he was staring at the TV? Could that be what had been turning Michael, the former ace student, into a dolt? The former gifted classical pianist into a pop music iPod-addicted groupie? The former history buff into a pop culture devotee? The former healthy, happy family participant, who had always had time for his younger brothers, into an antisocial lockbox?
Or could it be that Elisabeth was stretched so
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