Read Online Once Upon a List by Robin Gold - Free Book Online Page B

read yet, and their shared reading bonanza—also known as “Literary Nerd Fest”—would begin. It wasn’t necessarily the “coolest” way to spend a Sunday afternoon, but for them, lounging around for hours together in bed was not only an indulgence, it was perfect. Besides, it usually led to pretty great sex. Or a pretty great nap. Or, if they were lucky? Both.
    Clara couldn’t stop her breakfast conversation with Leo from turning over and over (and over) in her mind. Sure, when she’d first mentioned accomplishing everything on her time capsule list she was only teasing. But now, the more Clara considered it, the more sense it somehow made. After all, she was at the bottom of the proverbial barrel, about as desperate as they come, she figured. And she couldn’t deny that kissing Billy/William Warrington had jolted her with a gratifying, hair-raising rush, which she hadn’t felt in far too long, ultimately reminding her that she was alive. It was as if, but for a brief, super gay, magical moment, she’d awoken from a deep and powerful slumber, only to fall right back under its cruel spell.
    Leo had been correct about so many things. She’d lost her ambition, and there used to be so much. Becoming president of Scuppernong . . . Taking the company global . . . Seeing the Northern Lights in Alaska with Sebastian before becoming mom to Julian and Edith, the children they’d have . . . Corny annual holiday photos where they’d all wear matching handmade sweaters, as would Milk Dud, their dog . . . Summer vacations back home in Chicago with Libby and Leo . . . Visiting all fifty states together . . . A bigger house in a great area of Boston—nothing fancy, just someplace nice where Julian and Edith (and the identical twin girls they’d have later in life named Marsha and Barbra, although she hadn’t yet broached this subject with Sebastian) would have lots of space to run around and ride their bikes and build a tree house like Maple Manor . . . Saving every last art project the kids made in school, and cherishing their childhood poetry more than that of the “Masters” . . . Supporting Sebastian as he opened his own successful practice, growing wrinkled and old with him by her side, never taking for granted just how very, very lucky they were . . .
    Contrary to the way Clara currently felt, she knew that she was not dead. And something in her life did need to change in order for her to stop feeling and behaving as such. Indeed, action was required. Considering the myriad solutions she’d already tried to no avail, she was officially lost enough to wonder if maybe, just maybe, her time capsule might possibly be the answer.
    When Clara’s eyelids fluttered open once again, she peered at the flashing clock on her bedside table. She was stunned to discover this idea had been somersaulting in her mind for over an hour! And that’s when she knew there was something to it. Surely there must be, Clara told herself. How sick she was of being trapped in a prison invisible to others because the walls were inside her. Perhaps her time capsule could help unlock the penitentiary door, and remind her of who she was once upon a time, before tragedy darkened her life and the numbing evil slumber spell had been cast.
    Or perhaps she was nuts.
    In her mind, both were real possibilities. Either way, as far as Clara was concerned, she had nothing to lose, and everything to gain, by trying.
    On September 2 she would turn thirty-five, which gave her approximately nine months to accomplish her list before her deadline.
    With no time to waste, Clara jumped out of bed and hurried to her dresser to retrieve her time capsule.

 
    9.
    C lara returned to Boston, registered for the Advanced Gingerbread Architecture course, cancelled her daily delivery of the Boston Globe, and forwarded her mail to Libby’s