Read Online Seven Year Switch (2010) by Claire Cook - Free Book Online

tackiness, a mortar and pestle carved from a solid piece of “peacefully collected oak” and etched with a Celtic trinity knot, a partial set of celadon-glazed sake cups, dog-eared copies of outdated Michelin Green Guides, and an old T-shirt that said YOU BETTER BELIZE IT , which I stopped wearing and made into a pillow before it fell apart. I couldn’t stand to look at them, but I couldn’t bear to throw them out.
    Billy cleared his throat. “Hey, do you have time to go somewhere and grab a late lunch?”
    I looked at my watch. “Ohmigod,” I said. “I had no idea it was this late.”
    I was already halfway to the door by the time he caught up.
    â€œWas it something I said?” he said.
    â€œThe bus,” I said. I lunged for the door, then made a dash for my car.

10
    ANASTASIA PICKED UP A ROUNDED TRIANGLE OF CHICKEN and black bean quesadilla with her fingers and dipped a corner into the dollop of Wholly Guacamole on her plate.
    When the phone rang, I took a quick bite of my own quesadilla.
    â€œGreat Girlfriend Getaways,” I said into my headphone. “Feisty and fabulous man-free escapes both close to home and all over the world. When was the last time you got together with your girlfriends?”
    â€œIt’s Seth.”
    I looked at Anastasia. She was chewing away happily. We’d had the asparagus and goat cheese quesadillas for dinner last night, and I hadn’t been sure Lunch Around the World leftovers would fly two nights in a row.
    â€œWhat’s your question?” I said in a singsong voice.
    Anastasia picked up her plate and started heading in the direction of the living room.
    â€œYou haven’t told her yet?” Seth said into one ear.
    â€œNot your business,” I whispered.
    With my other ear, I heard the TV click on in the living room.
    â€œOur Costa Rica trip is available with or without surfing,” I said loudly. “But our surfing instructor is not only extremely good-looking, he’s also lots of fun. And he’s great with beginners, so we strongly encourage you and your girlfriends to give him, I mean it , a try.”
    â€œI’m calling to double-check on Sunday,” Seth said. His voice was flat. “Five o’clock, right?”
    Everything in me wanted to find a way to wiggle out of it—virus, birthday party, impending tsunami, what ever it took.
    â€œRight,” I said.
    â€œCan I bring anything?” he asked politely, as if he were simply an old friend coming by for dinner.
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Seven years of child support.”
    He didn’t say anything.
    I found the disconnect button on my cell phone and pushed it.
    Anastasia came back and sat down at the table. “Who was that?” she asked.
    Little pitchers have big ears my mother would have said. It was actually one of the few things I could still remember her saying.
    She hadn’t been much of a mother. Or maybe it was just that she didn’t really need much from anybody, so she assumed I didn’t either. My mother was her own best company. Her idea of a good time was to pop a Swanson’s chicken pot pie in the oven for each of us and curl up with a good book until the timer went off.
    We didn’t go to church, or museums, or movies, and she didn’t invite friends over. She went to her secretarial job, came home, got up the next day, and did it all over again. On weekends she just spent more time reading.
    Pictures of my father were the only things that brightened up our two-bedroom apartment. He’d died before I turned two, but I’d memorized his smile from the photos—two on the bookcase in the living room, one on my mother’s bedside table.I’d managed to convince myself that I could remember him not only picking me up, but also throwing me up in the air and catching me as I giggled my way back down into his arms. He seemed fun and nice and handsome, but more than that,