Read Online Larissa Learns to Breathe by Ruby Laska - Free Book Online Page A

cot and then a second time in the shower in his bathroom—seemed to have drained from her. As he raced to shave and dress in time to check in on the crew’s progress before the staff meeting, she sat forlornly on the bed, wrapped in a towel, scheming her exit.
    â€œAt least don’t leave until I get back,” he’d pleaded with her before leaving.
    She’d promised.
    She seemed so sad. Tommy brought Bluebell with him, tying her up outside Palmetto Manor, where Chloe had set a big water bowl out for just that purpose, so that at least Larissa could pack and collect her thoughts without the dog distracting her.
    The antiquated speakerphone system let out its customary chime, which sounded like a prison alarm going off. At least, it was what Tommy imagined a prison alarm would sound like, not having ever had the opportunity to find out. Several of the dozen people gathered around the antique walnut conference table exclaimed at the sound. Chloe jumped; she was probably under more pressure than any of them: since none of the staff on the island would be able to travel to see loved ones, she had to make sure the Thanksgiving feast would be one to remember.
    â€œI thought you were going to fix that, Oliver,” someone called out.
    Oliver Baker, tech guru extraordinaire—rumor was that Rafe had poached him from the Los Angeles library system, where he’d been the youngest head librarian ever—threw up his hands in defeat. “I’ve tried, people. I’ve taken all of your suggestions under advisement—even yours, Bill, though I’m not sure that the sound of a beer can being cracked is quite the effect Rafe would appreciate—but I can’t figure out how to modify this thing.”
    Everyone stared at the large beige plastic speaker planted in the middle of the table as it crackled to life. The few techies in residence on the island had first assumed that Oliver was incompetent…until they each took a crack at figuring out the ancient wiring system in the manor. It was well known that, while the cell company swore the entire island should be in range of reception—and the cable company had sent its techs out repeatedly to figure out why wireless only worked inside the walls of Palmetto Manor—the simple fact was that no one really understood what was going on the island. It was as though it was a sort of Bermuda Triangle of data transmission—which was exactly why Oliver had agreed to take the job. Not, as some initially groused, because he was paid a handsome salary to care for what was essentially only a single twelve thousand square foot structure—but because he was determined to crack the mystery of why the only data coming in and out was the data that supported Rafe’s plans for the island.
    And the funny thing was, Rafe didn’t seem to object a bit. Every few days, his booming voice projected from the outdated speakerphone, and each time Oliver would announce plans to test or install some new aspect of the island’s infrastructure. And Rafe would wish him well. If there was a hint of mischief in his voice, perhaps it was only because he was pleased that his young guru was well occupied.
    Tommy did wonder how things would play out when actual paying guests arrived—guests who expected their luxuriant lodgings to feature television and wireless connectivity. Guests who expected to make phone calls and check their emails and watch the news and check on their investments. Some, he expected, would be duly frustrated.
    But maybe others would be pleased. Certainly, after the initial grousing, none of the staff missed the constant connectivity. Short-range walkie-talkies took care of the needs of the construction staff; bicycle messengers turned out to be surprisingly effective to fill the gaps.
    â€œGood morning, colleagues,” Rafe said, his customary greeting. “Good morning,” the assembled voices chorused.
    â€œI’d