Read Online The Ice Cradle by Mary Ann Winkowski, Maureen Foley - Free Book Online

result of the warming,” Mark went on.
    I’d always assumed that the storms we were getting now were no different from the storms we had always gotten. But I grew up in Ohio and have only lived around Boston for a few years. I have no real feel for what’s “normal” in New England.
    “What kind of storms
are
we getting?” I asked.
    “Not as many hurricanes and nor’easters, but lots morestorms that are moderately severe. Add to that the way our beaches are shaped—they’re long and broad and kind of flat—and well, let’s just say it’s not a good combination. If erosion keeps happening at the rate it’s happening now, Nantucket will be under water in a few hundred years.”
    “You’re kidding!” I said. “The whole island?”
    “Yup. They’ve already lost twenty-five buildings. Expect to lose fifty or sixty more in the next ten years.”
    “That’s terrible,” I said.
    “And we’re not immune here. They already moved the Southeast Lighthouse once, back in 1993. The edge of the cliff was wearing away, so they had to pull the whole building back a few hundred feet. Took them ten years to raise two million dollars to finance it, but if they hadn’t done it, the lighthouse would have fallen right into the ocean. The Bluffs are still taking a beating.”
    Lauren wore a patient, indulgent expression.
    “This is Mark’s passion,” she explained, “in case you haven’t figured it out.”
    I smiled. “You’re preaching to the choir. I even recycle those little wire twisties from the bread bags.”
    Mark was apparently relieved to discover that I was a kindred spirit, environmentally. “Our entire renovation was green,” he said, “though it did end up costing us more than we’d hoped.”
    “Don’t things always go over budget?”
    “Yeah, sure, and we’ll save money in the long run.”
    “We hope!” Lauren added. “Half the island turned up at the open house. The real old-timers were the ones who stayed the longest, believe it or not. They couldn’t get enough of the new technologies, inspecting the solar panels, checking out all the energy-efficient materials. I was really surprised.”
    “It makes sense, though,” Mark said. “They’re invested in the island, and not just here on the weekends or for a week in the summer. They’ve seen the changes happening over their lifetimes.”
    “To be fair, though,” Lauren said, “everybody cares about the island. There are just different ideas about what we should do, and people worry about the impact on tourism of some of the proposed changes.”
    “What changes?” I asked.
    Lauren shot Mark a look. “There’s an initiative to build an offshore wind farm. Mark’s the head of the committee. The debate’s been pretty spirited.”
    “Spirited?” Mark said.
    “Lively?” Lauren asked.
    “How about
ugly?”
    “Energetic,”
she declared.
    “Vicious,” he said.

    “What’s your name?” I asked the little ghost. I am able to hear what ghosts are thinking, but they don’t usually think about their own names. The little ghost might have been used to young children being aware of her, but she seemed shocked that I could see her. Henry answered my question before she could recover her composure and speak.
    “Vivi.”
    She had followed us up the stairs and into our room. It was nearly nine o’clock, time for Henry to go to bed, but Vivi showed no sign of being aware that she was expected to leave. I had no one but myself to blame for this, of course, given that I had let her curl up in my lap the previous night.
    “Is that a nickname?” I asked her.
    She stared at me and said nothing. I tried again.
    “What’s your real name?”
    After a pause, she floated over to Henry and whispered in his ear.
    “Viveka,” said Henry.
    “And what’s your last name?”
    She whispered again, and Henry said, “Riegler.”
    “Viveka Riegler,” I said. “That’s a pretty name.”
    She stuck out her tongue.
    “Why are you sticking your