Read Online The President's Daughter by Mariah Stewart - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mariah Stewart
Tags: Fiction
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neither of us ever wanted for anything, Dina.”
“Still, some of the McDermott money would have gone a long way to—”
Jude held up a hand to stop her. “What would you have wanted that you didn’t have back then?”
“Besides a car on my sixteenth birthday?” Dina grinned. “Actually, I can’t think of a thing. But you wouldn’t have had to work.”
“Darling, I’m a librarian. I’ve hardly been out digging ditches in the hot sun all these years. I’ve loved my work. I have—
have
had—a wonderful life.”
“Isn’t there anything you want that you don’t have?”
“Yes. There is one thing that I really, really want right now.” Jude smiled longingly.
“Name it and it’s yours.”
“I’m about to do just that.” Jude turned to the pony-tailed waitress as she approached their table. “I’ll have a hot fudge sundae. Seriously heavy on the hot fudge. You can give the check to my daughter. . . .”
The wind had picked up and a fast rain had begun to fall by the time Dina dropped off Jude and returned home. The lights in the greenhouse assured her that Polly had kept her word and was checking the seedlings for signs of mildew, which could ruin all of the fledgling plants. Hoping to avoid a soaking of her favorite suede jacket, Dina parked as close as possible to the carriage house, then made a break for the front door through the deluge. Her keys were in her hand before she reached the shelter of the porch, and within seconds she had the door unlocked and pushed open and was dripping a path of fat drops of water from the narrow foyer to the kitchen.
“Damn,” Dina muttered as she shook off her jacket and hung it carefully over the back of a kitchen chair, slipped out of her wet shoes, and left them under the table.
Then, “Ugh,” as she caught a glance of herself in the mirror over the sink in the small powder room.
Her black hair was plastered to her head, her nose and cheeks red with the cold. She toweled off the hair and padded back to the kitchen in stocking feet. There she made tea and skimmed through the pile of mail she’d brought in earlier that morning but hadn’t had time to look at. Dina left it all on the counter and went upstairs to change into dry clothes.
A vintage University of Maryland sweatshirt and a pair of well-worn sweatpants suited the day and the weather. On her way back down the steps, Dina paused at the small square landing and pushed the curtain aside to look through the window. From this vantage, she could see the entire expanse of fields that, on this miserable March afternoon, lay frostbitten and hard. Under a blanket of straw and last year’s leaves that covered the frozen soil, the perennials she’d planted a year ago simply waited out the cold, withstanding heaving earth and enduring unpredictable changes in temperature. What was predictable was that, within the next few weeks, the daylilies would break through the ground and the peonies would appear seemingly overnight. The hiss of sleet that bounced off the window assured her that tonight would not be that night.
The teapot summoned from the kitchen, and Dina hurried to silence its annoying shriek. She made her tea and went into the den, where she studied the notes she had made for Monday’s 6:00 A.M. appearance on the local news. Last visit she had talked about caring for shrubs through the winter. This week, she’d talk about pruning—which shrubs to prune in the spring and the best way to do it. The station liked to shoot these segments on location there at the nursery, which was perfect. Besides the fact that she’d have plenty of specimens to choose from, it was excellent publicity for her business.
While her tea cooled, Dina called down to the greenhouse, expecting Polly to answer, and was startled when a blast of unintelligible sound assaulted her unsuspecting ears.
Dina pictured William scrambling to turn down the music.
“Yeah, Dina, hi.”
“Wow, William.” Why, she wondered,
“Still, some of the McDermott money would have gone a long way to—”
Jude held up a hand to stop her. “What would you have wanted that you didn’t have back then?”
“Besides a car on my sixteenth birthday?” Dina grinned. “Actually, I can’t think of a thing. But you wouldn’t have had to work.”
“Darling, I’m a librarian. I’ve hardly been out digging ditches in the hot sun all these years. I’ve loved my work. I have—
have
had—a wonderful life.”
“Isn’t there anything you want that you don’t have?”
“Yes. There is one thing that I really, really want right now.” Jude smiled longingly.
“Name it and it’s yours.”
“I’m about to do just that.” Jude turned to the pony-tailed waitress as she approached their table. “I’ll have a hot fudge sundae. Seriously heavy on the hot fudge. You can give the check to my daughter. . . .”
The wind had picked up and a fast rain had begun to fall by the time Dina dropped off Jude and returned home. The lights in the greenhouse assured her that Polly had kept her word and was checking the seedlings for signs of mildew, which could ruin all of the fledgling plants. Hoping to avoid a soaking of her favorite suede jacket, Dina parked as close as possible to the carriage house, then made a break for the front door through the deluge. Her keys were in her hand before she reached the shelter of the porch, and within seconds she had the door unlocked and pushed open and was dripping a path of fat drops of water from the narrow foyer to the kitchen.
“Damn,” Dina muttered as she shook off her jacket and hung it carefully over the back of a kitchen chair, slipped out of her wet shoes, and left them under the table.
Then, “Ugh,” as she caught a glance of herself in the mirror over the sink in the small powder room.
Her black hair was plastered to her head, her nose and cheeks red with the cold. She toweled off the hair and padded back to the kitchen in stocking feet. There she made tea and skimmed through the pile of mail she’d brought in earlier that morning but hadn’t had time to look at. Dina left it all on the counter and went upstairs to change into dry clothes.
A vintage University of Maryland sweatshirt and a pair of well-worn sweatpants suited the day and the weather. On her way back down the steps, Dina paused at the small square landing and pushed the curtain aside to look through the window. From this vantage, she could see the entire expanse of fields that, on this miserable March afternoon, lay frostbitten and hard. Under a blanket of straw and last year’s leaves that covered the frozen soil, the perennials she’d planted a year ago simply waited out the cold, withstanding heaving earth and enduring unpredictable changes in temperature. What was predictable was that, within the next few weeks, the daylilies would break through the ground and the peonies would appear seemingly overnight. The hiss of sleet that bounced off the window assured her that tonight would not be that night.
The teapot summoned from the kitchen, and Dina hurried to silence its annoying shriek. She made her tea and went into the den, where she studied the notes she had made for Monday’s 6:00 A.M. appearance on the local news. Last visit she had talked about caring for shrubs through the winter. This week, she’d talk about pruning—which shrubs to prune in the spring and the best way to do it. The station liked to shoot these segments on location there at the nursery, which was perfect. Besides the fact that she’d have plenty of specimens to choose from, it was excellent publicity for her business.
While her tea cooled, Dina called down to the greenhouse, expecting Polly to answer, and was startled when a blast of unintelligible sound assaulted her unsuspecting ears.
Dina pictured William scrambling to turn down the music.
“Yeah, Dina, hi.”
“Wow, William.” Why, she wondered,
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