Read Online The Ramblers by Aidan Donnelley Rowley - Free Book Online Page A

doesn’t wipe it away.
    â€œHe’s right to be worried, Patrick,” she says. “I’m a mess. He shouldn’t waste his time on me. There are so many other women who—”
    Patrick gently grabs her arm and she stops speaking.
    â€œHe only cares about one,” Patrick says firmly, fixing her with his eyes. “Trust me, Clio, this is all very new. He’s scarlet for you, but he’s shaken. As it seems you are. I’m not even sure what I’m doing here.”
    Clio swallows and nods, looks down at the leaf-strewn path.
    â€œI’m not so sure I deserve him.”
    Patrick considers this and as he does a sinister silence takes hold. But then he shakes his head. “Nobody’s perfect, Clio. Not even our Henry,” he says, his face easing into an earnest grin. “My mum had horror stories of what Henry was like as a little boy. She said he was an utter rascal. Apparently, he used to unscrew all the jars in the fridge, and he’d bury Mum’s favorite silver necklace in the garden, and he once put ice cubes in my bed in the middle of the night while I was in the bathroom. The truth is, as the baby I idolized him, but he was certainly strange. Always reading books about faraway places. Always involving me in these elaborate and imaginative games. He’s brilliant with my sons, I must say. They talk about Uncle Henry all the time.”
    Clio imagines Henry goofing around with Patrick’s little boys and the picture delights her even though it’s somewhat difficult to conjure. She’s never had the chance to see him around kids. Her mind wanders. What if . . . She stops herself from going too far with this.
    Speaking of, Clio looks up and sees Smith approaching now on the path. The sight of her friend brings with it a wave of comfort, of relief. She wears her mother Bitsy’s big sable fur and a pair of heeled boots. Something’s up.
    â€œOh, I’m so sorry, I lost track of time,” Clio says. “That’s my friend Smith coming to meet me.”
    Smith walks up and throws her arm around Clio and kisses her hello. “God, it’s freezing out here.”
    â€œSmith, this is Patrick, Henry’s brother. He flew in from California to see the hotel.”
    Smith extends a leather-gloved hand and Patrick shakes it. “Well I can certainly see the resemblance,” Smith says, smiling flirtatiously. Smith has always known how to turn it on for attractive men. “The Kildare eyes.”
    â€œA pleasure to meet you, Smith. I just had the fine privilege of following along with Clio on her bird walk. Learned a thing or two. In my estimation, a morning well spent, but I should get going and leave you two to do your catching up. Clio, if I don’t see you again, I do hope you stay well.”
    If I don’t see you again. Stay well.
    A lump forms in Clio’s throat as she watches him go. Will she see him again? Was that it?
    â€œHe just showed up on my walk,” Clio explains. “Came to make sure his brother’s highly questionable girlfriend is not a total mental case, and I’m not sure I’ve convinced him of that. How was your morning?”
    â€œGood. Fine. Did a little client prep and ran a few miles on the treadmill and tidied up. I know that things are going to go haywire in a few days with Thanksgiving and all the wedding hoopla, so I need to be on my game.” There is a tension in Smith’s face as she speaks, an unmistakable stiffness to her jaw. She stares out over the water.
    â€œThe wedding will be fine, Smith,” Clio says. “I’ll make sure you survive it.”
    Clio too must survive it. Yet another party to make her anxious. And by all indications, the wedding will be in keeping with all things Anderson: tastefully extravagant. Sally and Smith’s parents, Bitsy and Thatcher, have been unfailingly kind to Clio, in their own Waspish way, and Clio will always have a