Read Online The Perfect Stranger by Wendy Corsi Staub - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Wendy Corsi Staub
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your brother to take care of, and—”
“Please, Mom, we’re old enough to take care of ourselves! Dad’s always going away on business and on those golf weekends with Grandpa and Uncle Will and Uncle Wade. Why shouldn’t you go away, too, for once in your life?”
“I don’t know . . . I’ve never met Meredith’s family—I haven’t even met her . I might feel like I was intruding.”
“That’s crazy. It’s a funeral, not some party y’all are crashing.”
True.
But the thought of confronting this loss head-on, in person, doesn’t sit well with her . . .
Which is precisely why she should force herself to do it.
Strength training, as Elena likes to call it.
This isn’t about herself, though. It’s about Meredith. About paying respects to a friend who met a tragic, violent death.
If something happened to me, Meredith is the type who’d rally the troops and come down here to see how she could help Rob and the kids. I owe her the same.
By the time Jaycee called her, she had decided it would be a good idea if they all went. Together. For Meredith. She was going to ask how Jaycee felt about it, but Jaycee was in such a hurry to get off the phone . . .
That was strange. One minute she was kidding around, the next she was abruptly ending the call. Why?
Maybe because I asked her what she was doing in L.A.
Jaycee seemed taken aback that she knew where she was, almost as if . . .
Maybe she didn’t want anyone to know.
But why not? What do I care where she travels on business?
Oh, well.
Maybe she’s paranoid about sharing too much with someone she doesn’t know very well. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t post a photo on her blog.
At least Landry now has a voice to go with Jaycee’s name . . . a familiar one, at that. Jaycee definitely reminds her of someone. She just can’t remember whom.
“Mom?”
Addison is in the doorway. She’s changed into a cornflower blue sundress and white sandals, sunglasses propped on her head and a purse over her shoulder. She’s added a necklace of blue and silver beads that complement the necklace and earrings she put on earlier. As always, she looks perfectly put together in an easy-breezy way, so that you’d never guess everything she’s wearing was carefully coordinated to create a very specific overall effect.
“I’m ready to go shopping. Can I have the car keys and . . .”
“Bathing suit money?” Landry smiles. “Sure. Come on downstairs and I’ll find my purse.”
About to shove her cell phone into a pocket, she realizes that the gym shorts she threw on earlier don’t have one. The battery is running low anyway—and she’s had enough, for now, of talking about Meredith’s death. She plugs the phone into the charger near her side of the bed and walks downstairs with Addison.
“Did you figure out what you’re going to do about your friend’s funeral?” her daughter asks.
“The arrangements haven’t been posted yet, but when they are, I’ll send out a group e-mail to the other bloggers to see if they want to meet in Cincinnati.”
“What if they don’t want to?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re still going either way, right?”
Landry hesitates. The last thing she wants is to give her teenage daughter the impression that you should reconsider whether to do something just because your friends aren’t doing it.
But it would be hard to go alone.
When was the last time she traveled far from home completely on her own?
The semester abroad she did back when she was an undergrad English major at the University of Alabama?
Those four months in London felt like a stepping-stone to a future spent traveling the world. But then it was over and she was back in Tuscaloosa, and the next thing she knew, that, too, was over. She graduated and found herself back at home, where she spent the summer sending out résumés for jobs in London, jobs in New York, Chicago, L.A. . . .
A few weeks later she met Rob, and almost
“Please, Mom, we’re old enough to take care of ourselves! Dad’s always going away on business and on those golf weekends with Grandpa and Uncle Will and Uncle Wade. Why shouldn’t you go away, too, for once in your life?”
“I don’t know . . . I’ve never met Meredith’s family—I haven’t even met her . I might feel like I was intruding.”
“That’s crazy. It’s a funeral, not some party y’all are crashing.”
True.
But the thought of confronting this loss head-on, in person, doesn’t sit well with her . . .
Which is precisely why she should force herself to do it.
Strength training, as Elena likes to call it.
This isn’t about herself, though. It’s about Meredith. About paying respects to a friend who met a tragic, violent death.
If something happened to me, Meredith is the type who’d rally the troops and come down here to see how she could help Rob and the kids. I owe her the same.
By the time Jaycee called her, she had decided it would be a good idea if they all went. Together. For Meredith. She was going to ask how Jaycee felt about it, but Jaycee was in such a hurry to get off the phone . . .
That was strange. One minute she was kidding around, the next she was abruptly ending the call. Why?
Maybe because I asked her what she was doing in L.A.
Jaycee seemed taken aback that she knew where she was, almost as if . . .
Maybe she didn’t want anyone to know.
But why not? What do I care where she travels on business?
Oh, well.
Maybe she’s paranoid about sharing too much with someone she doesn’t know very well. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t post a photo on her blog.
At least Landry now has a voice to go with Jaycee’s name . . . a familiar one, at that. Jaycee definitely reminds her of someone. She just can’t remember whom.
“Mom?”
Addison is in the doorway. She’s changed into a cornflower blue sundress and white sandals, sunglasses propped on her head and a purse over her shoulder. She’s added a necklace of blue and silver beads that complement the necklace and earrings she put on earlier. As always, she looks perfectly put together in an easy-breezy way, so that you’d never guess everything she’s wearing was carefully coordinated to create a very specific overall effect.
“I’m ready to go shopping. Can I have the car keys and . . .”
“Bathing suit money?” Landry smiles. “Sure. Come on downstairs and I’ll find my purse.”
About to shove her cell phone into a pocket, she realizes that the gym shorts she threw on earlier don’t have one. The battery is running low anyway—and she’s had enough, for now, of talking about Meredith’s death. She plugs the phone into the charger near her side of the bed and walks downstairs with Addison.
“Did you figure out what you’re going to do about your friend’s funeral?” her daughter asks.
“The arrangements haven’t been posted yet, but when they are, I’ll send out a group e-mail to the other bloggers to see if they want to meet in Cincinnati.”
“What if they don’t want to?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re still going either way, right?”
Landry hesitates. The last thing she wants is to give her teenage daughter the impression that you should reconsider whether to do something just because your friends aren’t doing it.
But it would be hard to go alone.
When was the last time she traveled far from home completely on her own?
The semester abroad she did back when she was an undergrad English major at the University of Alabama?
Those four months in London felt like a stepping-stone to a future spent traveling the world. But then it was over and she was back in Tuscaloosa, and the next thing she knew, that, too, was over. She graduated and found herself back at home, where she spent the summer sending out résumés for jobs in London, jobs in New York, Chicago, L.A. . . .
A few weeks later she met Rob, and almost
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