Read Online Stranger in Paradise (Home Front - Book #2) by Barbara Bretton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara Bretton
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you a barbecue and you’re going to have a barbecue.”
“Is this the why-you-should-move-to-the-suburbs treatment you’re giving me?”
Nancy grinned. “I thought I was being subtle.”
Cathy’s laughter rang out through the small backyard. “Nancy, if there’s anything you aren’t, it’s subtle.”
“Just wait until your second baby comes,” said Nancy. “You won’t have time for subtlety, either.”
They settled into conversation about babies and childbirth, which came as an enormous relief to Nancy. She’d known where Cathy was heading before, with all those questions. Given the least bit of encouragement, her sister would raise Gerry’s salary and shorten his hours and generally embarrass the daylights out of him. There were definite drawbacks to having your husband work for your family, especially with a husband as pigheaded as Gerry. Why, he hadn’t even wanted to buy a house in Levittown, and only because Wilson Manufacturing had been an important contractor for the Levitt firm.
But Gerry had finally given in. He took the job with Wilson and then he bought their house on Robin Hood Lane. And like thousands of other young husbands on Long Island, he settled into the life of the suburban commuter—a brand-new phenomenon.
She cast a sidelong glance at her sister, who was cradling the baby in her arms and whispering advice only an aunt could give. Maybe Cathy didn’t realize it, but the world was changing. Not everybody thought the city was the best place to raise a family. Kids needed sunshine and fresh air and lots of room to grow. Cathy might not want that for her Billy, but Nancy would settle for nothing less for her girls.
* * *
Furrawn.
Jane couldn’t remember where she’d learned the Welsh word, but its meaning had never left her. Talk leading to intimacy . She hadn’t understood everything that implied until now. Of all the weapons in the arsenal of the war between the sexes, was there anything more potent than conversation?
They’d finished their respective stories on her uncle’s weathered old green typewriter, then filed them with their respective bureaus. Sorry, Leo , she thought as she handed in her four pages of commentary. Suddenly this doesn’t seem so important any longer . There was a lull in the festivities and the celebrants swarmed up and down the byways of London, searching for food and drink and good cheer.
Once again she and Mac found themselves in the romantic pub where they had spent the earlier part of the afternoon. This time, however, the pub was crowded with revelers.
“It’s been hours,” she said, glancing at Mac’s watch. “The queen will be addressing the Empire in forty-five minutes.”
Mac, who was tracing the curve of her jaw with a fingertip, grinned. “What queen?”
‘Have you no appreciation for history, Mac?” she countered. “File your story and forget it—is that your motto?” She tapped him playfully on the wrist.
“Is this how you’re going to be after we’re married?”
She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her raincoat, which had been draped over the back of her chair. “It hasn’t been determined if we’ll indeed get married, Mac.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” He drew her up and into his embrace. “That’s exactly what we’ve been talking about all this time.”
She couldn’t argue with him. Although the word “marriage” hadn’t come up again as they’d sat in the pub, it had been clear it was the subtext of every sentence they uttered. Marriage. Future. Love. Shadows behind shadows, the real conversation beneath shifted and deepened with each minute that passed.
He backed her up against the table, bodies closer than a wiser woman would have allowed. Even through the layers of clothing, the heat was undeniable. “We’ve had our first date,” he said, his voice rough and sweet in her ear. “I walked you home. I met your folks. We’re on your front porch.”
She’d seen enough American
“Is this the why-you-should-move-to-the-suburbs treatment you’re giving me?”
Nancy grinned. “I thought I was being subtle.”
Cathy’s laughter rang out through the small backyard. “Nancy, if there’s anything you aren’t, it’s subtle.”
“Just wait until your second baby comes,” said Nancy. “You won’t have time for subtlety, either.”
They settled into conversation about babies and childbirth, which came as an enormous relief to Nancy. She’d known where Cathy was heading before, with all those questions. Given the least bit of encouragement, her sister would raise Gerry’s salary and shorten his hours and generally embarrass the daylights out of him. There were definite drawbacks to having your husband work for your family, especially with a husband as pigheaded as Gerry. Why, he hadn’t even wanted to buy a house in Levittown, and only because Wilson Manufacturing had been an important contractor for the Levitt firm.
But Gerry had finally given in. He took the job with Wilson and then he bought their house on Robin Hood Lane. And like thousands of other young husbands on Long Island, he settled into the life of the suburban commuter—a brand-new phenomenon.
She cast a sidelong glance at her sister, who was cradling the baby in her arms and whispering advice only an aunt could give. Maybe Cathy didn’t realize it, but the world was changing. Not everybody thought the city was the best place to raise a family. Kids needed sunshine and fresh air and lots of room to grow. Cathy might not want that for her Billy, but Nancy would settle for nothing less for her girls.
* * *
Furrawn.
Jane couldn’t remember where she’d learned the Welsh word, but its meaning had never left her. Talk leading to intimacy . She hadn’t understood everything that implied until now. Of all the weapons in the arsenal of the war between the sexes, was there anything more potent than conversation?
They’d finished their respective stories on her uncle’s weathered old green typewriter, then filed them with their respective bureaus. Sorry, Leo , she thought as she handed in her four pages of commentary. Suddenly this doesn’t seem so important any longer . There was a lull in the festivities and the celebrants swarmed up and down the byways of London, searching for food and drink and good cheer.
Once again she and Mac found themselves in the romantic pub where they had spent the earlier part of the afternoon. This time, however, the pub was crowded with revelers.
“It’s been hours,” she said, glancing at Mac’s watch. “The queen will be addressing the Empire in forty-five minutes.”
Mac, who was tracing the curve of her jaw with a fingertip, grinned. “What queen?”
‘Have you no appreciation for history, Mac?” she countered. “File your story and forget it—is that your motto?” She tapped him playfully on the wrist.
“Is this how you’re going to be after we’re married?”
She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her raincoat, which had been draped over the back of her chair. “It hasn’t been determined if we’ll indeed get married, Mac.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” He drew her up and into his embrace. “That’s exactly what we’ve been talking about all this time.”
She couldn’t argue with him. Although the word “marriage” hadn’t come up again as they’d sat in the pub, it had been clear it was the subtext of every sentence they uttered. Marriage. Future. Love. Shadows behind shadows, the real conversation beneath shifted and deepened with each minute that passed.
He backed her up against the table, bodies closer than a wiser woman would have allowed. Even through the layers of clothing, the heat was undeniable. “We’ve had our first date,” he said, his voice rough and sweet in her ear. “I walked you home. I met your folks. We’re on your front porch.”
She’d seen enough American
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