Read Online The Good Life by Susan Kietzman - Free Book Online Page B

Nate’s rooms and their bathrooms because she knew what condition they were in. As a child, Ann had been expected to keep her room tidy. “Well,” said Eileen, as they walked back into the kitchen from the hallway. “You certainly do have a beautiful home.”
    “Thank you,” said Ann. “We’re proud of it.”
    “Yes,” said Eileen. “I can see that.”
    “I hope you’ll be comfortable in the guesthouse,” said Ann.
    “How could we not be comfortable?”
    “It’s a bit small,” said Ann, “for a prolonged stay. It’s meant to be a weekend retreat.”
    “It’s perfect,” said Eileen. “Your father and I don’t require much.”
    Ann’s cell phone, sitting on the kitchen counter, rang Mike’s tune. “I’ve got to get this,” she said, already reaching for it.
    “Thanks for the tea and the tour,” said Eileen, grabbing her sweater from the chair before slipping out the back door. “We’ll talk more later.”
    Mike had just five minutes for Ann. He was in a financial status meeting, his third that day. Knowing she shouldn’t burden him, but unable to stop herself, Ann poured out her woes, fears, and concerns in sixty seconds. Mike listened to his wife while he thought about what the latest numbers would do to their annual target. When she was done, he assured her everything would be okay. He had to get back to the meeting, but he would come home after that, certainly in time for dinner. He suggested she call Nate and Lauren to ensure their presence at the table. It would be their first night as an extended family.
     
    Nate answered his cell phone, even though he knew it was his mother. He was sitting at Burger King with his best friend, Josh Petersen, having a late lunch in lieu of physics class. He balked when she told him to be home early for dinner; he had already made plans to go to the library with his girlfriend, Jenny Garr, to watch her study. Ann told him to be home by six o’clock, if he knew what was good for him. Nate told his mother she had no idea what was and what wasn’t good for him, but he would consider her request. After he hung up, he called Jenny. She told him under no circumstances should he go to the library. She could study better without him, and grandparents, she said, were important. After he hung up the phone, Nate took a sip of his chocolate shake and announced that women were sentimental idiots.
    Lauren called her mother back when she got out of chemistry. She promised to be home by six. She did, however, have a lot of homework that night and would not be able to stay at the dinner table long. Lauren hesitated just a moment before beefing up the fib, telling her mother that she had three tests the next day. Ann told her dinner would last thirty minutes, tops. From her brief visit that morning, Ann couldn’t imagine her father lasting more time than that.
    Emma Lindholm, Ann’s stout housekeeper, walked into the kitchen just as Ann was finishing her conversation with Lauren. Emma reported that the quail, wild rice, and spinach salad would be ready whenever Ann needed them. White wine would be served with dinner and pecan pie afterward. Feeling on top of things again, Ann gave Emma a rare pat on her substantial shoulder, then left the room. She would call Sally back from her speakerphone in the basement while she rode her Lifecycle.

    Just before six, Mike walked through the garage door into the kitchen, carrying his briefcase, with Lauren, backpack on one shoulder, who had been driven home by a friend. Ann gave them both quick kisses and told them to wash their hands for dinner, which would be ready in five minutes. They both walked out—Lauren to dump her stuff upstairs and Mike to turn on his home computer—just before Eileen, trailed by Sam, walked in the back door. “Doesn’t something smell delicious,” said Eileen, peeling off her camel-hair overcoat to reveal a pressed white blouse and a string of pearls paired with a pair of plaid wool slacks. She