Read Online Summer on the Cape by J.M. Bronston - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J.M. Bronston
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predicament, she found that her curiosity remained very much alive.
Well, if I really wanted to snoop, he certainly has given me a good opportunity.
She glanced to the right and saw, beyond the sun-filled dining room, a long passageway leading to one of the wings of the house. To the left, where he had ordered her to wait for him, was the living room, still shadowed, not yet reached by the morning sunlight. Allie went into the darkened room.
Though the light was dim, she could see that there were good rugs on the old wood floors and the furniture was of the best quality. She recognized the prints and paintings on the walls as the work of the best among the New England artists. Beautiful old brass lamps caught what little light came into the room, filtered through the leaves outside the paned windows.
A big wing chair, covered in a fabric of blue crewel on a white background, was pulled up in front of the fireplace, and on the chair, yesterday’s newspaper, half read, was folded back to the editorial page. A stack of mail had been tossed, unopened, onto a small table next to an antique rocking chair on the other side of the fireplace, and Allie saw, from the return addresses, that it was all from investment banking houses and securities firms.
On a table near one of the windows, a silver tray held a crystal decanter and a set of crystal wineglasses, and next to the tray stood a collection of generations of family photographs in antique frames of silver and brass and wood. But there was a layer of dust on the crystal that dimmed its beauty, and the brasses and silver were badly tarnished.
She ran a curious finger along the edge of the silver tray.
Something about this “caretaker” of Adam’s doesn’t add up. The sleek sailboat down at the dock had been enough of a surprise—and now this beautiful old house and that very fancy car in the garage.
She scanned the room in a quick glance.
This doesn’t look like the home of a man who runs a small boat rental business and does odd jobs for the summer residents.
She was going to have plenty of questions for Adam when she got back to the city.
Her glance settled on the family photos on the table in front of her. Among the pictures of couples, of children, and of family gatherings on lawns and on beachfronts, there was one that caught her eye instantly. In a large silver frame, there was a much younger Zach, smiling broadly, an affectionate arm around a very lovely young woman with smooth, dark hair trimmed just to the level of her delicate jawline, and bright, happy dark eyes.
Allie wished she hadn’t seen that picture. She knew enough about portraits to know that the two young people in the picture were deeply in love, and she was instantly shamed by the mean twist of jealousy that stirred in her at the sight of Zach and this unknown woman.
Guiltily, she forced her gaze away, to another photo, a picture of a little boy, perhaps four or five years old. Allie picked it up, holding it to the light, in order to see it more clearly. There was no mistaking that dark wavy hair, sticking out of the little sea captain’s hat, the serious set of the mouth and the dark eyebrows. She studied the portrait intently, charmed by the handsome little face.
“Allie! Damn it, put that down!” Zach crossed the room furiously and took the photo from her hand. “Can’t you leave anything alone?”
With his hand on her arm, he led her roughly out of the living room, through the dining room, and into the kitchen, where he pulled a chair away from the table and set her abruptly into it.
His sudden appearance, his anger, his grabbing the picture from her, on top of her embarrassment at being caught intruding—she needed to get it all sorted out.
“What’s the matter, Zach? What are you so mad about? It’s a wonderful picture. It’s a picture of you, isn’t it?”
He put the picture down on the table, facing away from him. He dropped into a chair across the table from Allie
Well, if I really wanted to snoop, he certainly has given me a good opportunity.
She glanced to the right and saw, beyond the sun-filled dining room, a long passageway leading to one of the wings of the house. To the left, where he had ordered her to wait for him, was the living room, still shadowed, not yet reached by the morning sunlight. Allie went into the darkened room.
Though the light was dim, she could see that there were good rugs on the old wood floors and the furniture was of the best quality. She recognized the prints and paintings on the walls as the work of the best among the New England artists. Beautiful old brass lamps caught what little light came into the room, filtered through the leaves outside the paned windows.
A big wing chair, covered in a fabric of blue crewel on a white background, was pulled up in front of the fireplace, and on the chair, yesterday’s newspaper, half read, was folded back to the editorial page. A stack of mail had been tossed, unopened, onto a small table next to an antique rocking chair on the other side of the fireplace, and Allie saw, from the return addresses, that it was all from investment banking houses and securities firms.
On a table near one of the windows, a silver tray held a crystal decanter and a set of crystal wineglasses, and next to the tray stood a collection of generations of family photographs in antique frames of silver and brass and wood. But there was a layer of dust on the crystal that dimmed its beauty, and the brasses and silver were badly tarnished.
She ran a curious finger along the edge of the silver tray.
Something about this “caretaker” of Adam’s doesn’t add up. The sleek sailboat down at the dock had been enough of a surprise—and now this beautiful old house and that very fancy car in the garage.
She scanned the room in a quick glance.
This doesn’t look like the home of a man who runs a small boat rental business and does odd jobs for the summer residents.
She was going to have plenty of questions for Adam when she got back to the city.
Her glance settled on the family photos on the table in front of her. Among the pictures of couples, of children, and of family gatherings on lawns and on beachfronts, there was one that caught her eye instantly. In a large silver frame, there was a much younger Zach, smiling broadly, an affectionate arm around a very lovely young woman with smooth, dark hair trimmed just to the level of her delicate jawline, and bright, happy dark eyes.
Allie wished she hadn’t seen that picture. She knew enough about portraits to know that the two young people in the picture were deeply in love, and she was instantly shamed by the mean twist of jealousy that stirred in her at the sight of Zach and this unknown woman.
Guiltily, she forced her gaze away, to another photo, a picture of a little boy, perhaps four or five years old. Allie picked it up, holding it to the light, in order to see it more clearly. There was no mistaking that dark wavy hair, sticking out of the little sea captain’s hat, the serious set of the mouth and the dark eyebrows. She studied the portrait intently, charmed by the handsome little face.
“Allie! Damn it, put that down!” Zach crossed the room furiously and took the photo from her hand. “Can’t you leave anything alone?”
With his hand on her arm, he led her roughly out of the living room, through the dining room, and into the kitchen, where he pulled a chair away from the table and set her abruptly into it.
His sudden appearance, his anger, his grabbing the picture from her, on top of her embarrassment at being caught intruding—she needed to get it all sorted out.
“What’s the matter, Zach? What are you so mad about? It’s a wonderful picture. It’s a picture of you, isn’t it?”
He put the picture down on the table, facing away from him. He dropped into a chair across the table from Allie
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