Read Online Ms. Simon Says by Mary McBride - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mary McBride
Tags: FIC027020
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of that. And so much more.
Considering her love for the place, it seemed strange that she hadn’t been back there in this past year, after her parents had sold their house in Evanston and moved permanently to Heart Lake following her father’s retirement from his law practice. She’d been horrendously busy this past year, but that didn’t seem like such a good excuse at the moment. Even her sister Beth, who lived in California now, had been back to Heart Lake more recently than Shelby had.
Poor Beth. Shelby may have been cursed with the family name, but her sister seemed to have been cursed with bad luck from the cradle. She’d started out as a preemie in an incubator. At age two she needed night braces on her feet. Ten years later came the braces on her teeth. For a while the poor kid was allergic to everything. The list went on and on. If life seemed a breeze to Shelby, it was more a battle waged daily for Beth.
Several years ago, when Beth was again between careers, it had been her dream to renovate the hundred-plus-year-old house from its rugs to its rafters, and then to turn the place into a bona fide as well as profitable Victorian bed and breakfast. Her parents didn’t object. They were wild about the idea, and even subsidized the renovation. There was plenty of room, after all, for vacationing family as well as paying guests.
Bethie worked her ass off for the better part of a year—stripping, sanding, painting, staining, repairing old furnishings, acquiring new when the old stuff wouldn’t do. She lived in a sea of turpentine, paint chips, fabric swatches, and plaster dust for month after month. Heart Lake froze over, melted, and froze over again. Then, finally, when she was done, the house looked so spectacular that her parents had promptly declared it their ideal retirement home. They’d recompensed their younger daughter handsomely for her efforts, but still...
In a righteous snit, Beth had run off to California with one of her painting subcontractors, yet another in a long string of bad choices in men. Undeterred, Mom and Dad had moved in, and as far as Shelby knew, they were loving every minute they spent in the big old Victorian hulk on the eastern shore of Heart Lake.
Given Callahan’s proclivity for speed, even on fairly narrow two-lane state roads, they weren’t all that far away from the lake right now. The rural landscape hadn’t changed all that much during Shelby’s thirty-four years. White frame farmhouses and double wides hunkered down amid the acreage of corn and sugar beets and fruit trees. Over there on the right, by the side of the road, was the dilapidated fruit stand where her mother would always stop on the way to the lake for tomatoes and cucumbers. Off in the distance she glimpsed the bulbous white water tower, which always was and probably always would be the tallest edifice in Shelbyville.
She was used to seeing everything colored a summer green rather than the vivid reds and yellows and golds that predominated in October. Even the occasional cows and pigs looked a little different. Maybe they were chilly. She imagined the house would look a little different, too, and quite spectacular nestled against its hillside of evergreens and birches that would seem less like trees now than glowing candles, their yellow flames flickering against a darkening sky.
Callahan reached out to turn on the headlights just then, making Shelby realize how late it really was. Since the clock on the dashboard registered a permanent twelve thirty-five, from an afternoon in 1980 no doubt, she squinted to check her watch. It was nearly six-thirty. Already? How could that be?
“Long day,” the lieutenant said as if reading her mind. She murmured her agreement. “Shelbyville’s just down the road. The lake is only three or four miles beyond that. We’re almost there.”
“Great.”
He sounded tired. Actually, he sounded like he was trying hard not to sound exhausted. It suddenly occurred to
Considering her love for the place, it seemed strange that she hadn’t been back there in this past year, after her parents had sold their house in Evanston and moved permanently to Heart Lake following her father’s retirement from his law practice. She’d been horrendously busy this past year, but that didn’t seem like such a good excuse at the moment. Even her sister Beth, who lived in California now, had been back to Heart Lake more recently than Shelby had.
Poor Beth. Shelby may have been cursed with the family name, but her sister seemed to have been cursed with bad luck from the cradle. She’d started out as a preemie in an incubator. At age two she needed night braces on her feet. Ten years later came the braces on her teeth. For a while the poor kid was allergic to everything. The list went on and on. If life seemed a breeze to Shelby, it was more a battle waged daily for Beth.
Several years ago, when Beth was again between careers, it had been her dream to renovate the hundred-plus-year-old house from its rugs to its rafters, and then to turn the place into a bona fide as well as profitable Victorian bed and breakfast. Her parents didn’t object. They were wild about the idea, and even subsidized the renovation. There was plenty of room, after all, for vacationing family as well as paying guests.
Bethie worked her ass off for the better part of a year—stripping, sanding, painting, staining, repairing old furnishings, acquiring new when the old stuff wouldn’t do. She lived in a sea of turpentine, paint chips, fabric swatches, and plaster dust for month after month. Heart Lake froze over, melted, and froze over again. Then, finally, when she was done, the house looked so spectacular that her parents had promptly declared it their ideal retirement home. They’d recompensed their younger daughter handsomely for her efforts, but still...
In a righteous snit, Beth had run off to California with one of her painting subcontractors, yet another in a long string of bad choices in men. Undeterred, Mom and Dad had moved in, and as far as Shelby knew, they were loving every minute they spent in the big old Victorian hulk on the eastern shore of Heart Lake.
Given Callahan’s proclivity for speed, even on fairly narrow two-lane state roads, they weren’t all that far away from the lake right now. The rural landscape hadn’t changed all that much during Shelby’s thirty-four years. White frame farmhouses and double wides hunkered down amid the acreage of corn and sugar beets and fruit trees. Over there on the right, by the side of the road, was the dilapidated fruit stand where her mother would always stop on the way to the lake for tomatoes and cucumbers. Off in the distance she glimpsed the bulbous white water tower, which always was and probably always would be the tallest edifice in Shelbyville.
She was used to seeing everything colored a summer green rather than the vivid reds and yellows and golds that predominated in October. Even the occasional cows and pigs looked a little different. Maybe they were chilly. She imagined the house would look a little different, too, and quite spectacular nestled against its hillside of evergreens and birches that would seem less like trees now than glowing candles, their yellow flames flickering against a darkening sky.
Callahan reached out to turn on the headlights just then, making Shelby realize how late it really was. Since the clock on the dashboard registered a permanent twelve thirty-five, from an afternoon in 1980 no doubt, she squinted to check her watch. It was nearly six-thirty. Already? How could that be?
“Long day,” the lieutenant said as if reading her mind. She murmured her agreement. “Shelbyville’s just down the road. The lake is only three or four miles beyond that. We’re almost there.”
“Great.”
He sounded tired. Actually, he sounded like he was trying hard not to sound exhausted. It suddenly occurred to
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