Read Online The Good Daughter by Jane Porter - Free Book Online Page A

mid-January, the motels, streets, and stores were nearly deserted except for the odd coffeehouse and surf shop.
    Some people hated the low gray soupy fog but Kit liked it. She’d always found it romantic. Mysterious. The fog made her think of Byron and Venice in winter and love. Foggy days made her want to curl up with a book. But then, she curled up with a book any chance she could. She loved books. Loved reading. Loved it so much she’d studied English literature at St. Mary’s and then had gone on to teach it.
    She’d imagined that as an English teacher she’d be sharing her passion for great literature—opening doors to the world, lighting a fire in young people’s minds. She’d pictured her students with rapt expressions as she read aloud from
Hamlet
or recited her favorite William Butler Yeats poem, “An Irish Airman Foresees His Death.” It was naive of her. She should have known better.She didn’t. Probably because she lived in her head more often than in the real world.
    But seventeen years of teaching had set her straight. Most students preferred Facebook, online chats, texting—oh, and losing their virginity—to reading great literature.
    Smiling ruefully, Kit smoothed a thick strand of auburn hair behind her ear and listened to the wind snap the flags flying across the street at the beach park. It was a rather wild morning. Gray, foggy, breezy, and the fog made her hair wild, turning loose waves into fat curls. Years ago she’d given up trying to straighten her hair at the beach. It didn’t work. Inevitably it proved to be a waste of time.
    A half hour later the cottage door opened and Polly joined Kit on the small wooden porch. “You got up early,” Polly said.
    “It felt like
The Princess and the Pea
last night. Couldn’t get comfortable.”
    “I slept like a baby,” Polly said, lifting her slim arms over her head, stretching the fleece sweatshirt she wore over her thin aqua-blue running shirt. She was dressed for a run, in nylon shorts and white-and-neon-yellow running shoes. “Feel great.”
    Kit made a face at her. “I hate you. You know that?”
    “I do. That’s why I’m here with you.” Polly scooped her hair back into a ponytail and secured it with a rubber band. She glanced up at the sky as she put her foot on the railing to stretch her hamstring. “The fog will burn off, won’t it? I’m craving some sun.”
    “It will. By ten or eleven, the sky will be blue.” Kit momentarily wished for Polly’s legs. As well as Polly’s butt. And stomach. And face. No, not Polly’s face. Kit liked her own face. But the body, she’d definitely swap. “Since you had a comfy bed, and slept like a baby, why are you up early?”
    Polly switched legs and tugged on her toes to flex her hamstrings further. “I got a text from Jean-Marc…the guy we met last night.”
    “The French model?”
    “He only models part-time. The rest of the time he’s a salesman in suiting at the men’s Macy’s in San Francisco.”
    Kit gurgled with laughter. Polly was not easily impressed. “And what did he want?”
    “He was hoping I’d meet him for breakfast at Zelda’s.”
    “Are you?”
    “Maybe. I don’t know. No, I don’t think so. I’d rather just hang out with you.”
    “I thought you liked him.”
    “Oh, I did, I do, a little bit. I think. Or maybe it was the margaritas talking…hard to say. But I don’t think he was exactly the brightest lightbulb, was he?”
    “Last night I don’t think that’s what you were interested in.”
    Polly laughed and peeled off her sweatshirt before adjusting the mini iPod already attached to her sleek biceps. “Want to join me for a run?”
    Kit glanced toward the tranquil beach, which seemed far more appealing than a vigorous run. “How far are you going?”
    “Not far. Three. Maybe four miles.”
    Kit shuddered. She used to try to keep up with Polly, had even entered 5Ks with her last summer, but she had hated it, and she continued to run now only