Read Online Summer Friends by Holly Chamberlin - Free Book Online

the tiny telephone and its many options eluded her. Or maybe she was just being a stubborn holdback. The thought had crossed her mind.
    Maggie had sounded very pleased to hear from her. Delphine had suggested they have lunch together at the farm the next day. Maybe a sandwich in her cramped little office might help prove to Maggie that she really was very busy and that she really didn’t have any time to spend with her. Not much time, anyway.
    Maggie arrived at Delphine’s office a little before noon on Monday. She was wearing a sleeveless black linen blouse, white Capri-cut jeans, and pink kitten-heeled sandals. She carried a pink-and-black-checked linen bag. City mouse visits country mouse, Delphine thought, unconsciously pulling on the hem of her old green T-shirt.
    â€œThanks for asking me to lunch,” Maggie said.
    Delphine shrugged. “Sure. Everyone has to eat.” She hefted a red cooler onto her desk and began to unload it. She had made the sandwiches at home, big hearty ones on whole-grain bread, filled with ham, cheese, tomato, lettuce, and slathered in mayonnaise.
    Maggie, sitting gingerly in an old folding chair Delphine had indicated as her seat, refused to reveal her disappointment. She had been hoping for a light meal of chilled oysters and ceviche, maybe accompanied by a glass of vhino verde, on a restaurant patio overlooking the ocean. Instead, she was perched precariously on an ancient piece of outdoor furniture, being offered a sandwich the size of her head. But at least she and Delphine were together. That was what she had hoped for more than an upscale meal. She accepted the monstrous sandwich, unwrapped it, and then rewrapped half of it. The beverage choices were water or coffee. Maggie chose water, thinking it would come in a bottle. Instead it came from a tap. At least, Maggie noted, the plastic cup was clean.
    As Delphine bit hungrily into her sandwich, Maggie let her eyes roam. “It doesn’t look like much has changed since I was last here,” she said after a few minutes. “The summer before we went off to college. The last summer my parents rented the Lilac House.”
    â€œYeah, it’s mostly the same,” Delphine agreed. “The desk has been here as long as I can remember. My chair is fairly new, one of those ergonomic things. I got it on craigslist. And of course, the computer is new. In fact, I’m not sure we had a computer back then, back when you were around. I’d have to ask my father when exactly we changed over. I know it was Jackie’s doing that we finally went electronic.” Delphine gestured to her desk. “Though there always seem to be piles of paper . . .”
    Maggie looked up to the plain, tan corkboard over the desk. On it were tacked various bills and other official-looking notices, a faded photograph of a dark-haired child on a pony—Delphine?—and a yellowed piece of paper on which the following words had been typed by a probably now ancient typewriter: “ ‘There is more to life than increasing its speed.’—Mohandas Gandhi.” Maggie smiled to herself. Tell that to my boss, she thought. Tell that to Gregory. Tell that to me.
    Delphine took another large bite of her sandwich and glanced at her friend sitting on the old folding chair that had been leaning against the back wall of the office for years. She had wiped it down before Maggie’s arrival. Still, she was afraid that Maggie’s white jeans were probably not going to be quite so white when she got back into her Lexus. She wondered if she should have warned Maggie that the office was not a pristine place and then thought, Who would be silly enough to wear white around chickens, and mud, and farm equipment, much of which was at least partially rusted?
    â€œDo you play golf?” Maggie asked suddenly.
    â€œNo,” Delphine said. “Why?”
    â€œWell, because I’m staying at Gorges Grant I have privileges at