Read Online The Summer of Good Intentions by Wendy Francis - Free Book Online Page B

it seemed impossible—Jackson didn’t like it? What if he didn’t adore the summer house the way she did? She didn’t think she could love a man who didn’t grasp the charm of the house’s pocked wooden floors, its slightly cracked plaster ceilings, and creaky beds. She felt like a mother, oddly protective of it.
    No, it was better if Jackson didn’t see the house yet. Besides, she needed to warm her sisters up; they hardly knew the first thing about him. She’d only mentioned him in passing to Maggie when they were confirming the details of her arrival the other night. “I’ve met someone new,” she said.
    â€œReally!” Maggie sounded happy for her, not at all surprised. “Is he coming with you?” That was a typical Maggie comment, focused on the practicalities, what needed to be done. Virgie could almost hear the wheels spinning in her sister’s mind on the other end: Would she need to put Virgie in the guest room now, as opposed to bunking her with the kids? Did the summer house have enough sheets? Would they be grilling for one more?
    â€œDon’t worry, Mags,” she said. “It’s only me this time.”
    â€œOh, okay.” Maggie sounded almost disappointed, and Virgie imagined her crossing off Extra sheets? on her list. “Another time then.”
    â€œYes,” agreed Virgie. “I’d love for you to meet him. Assuming it lasts.” She heard her sister’s light, good-natured laugh on the other end.
    â€œFair enough.” And then they quickly moved on to her flight information, when she’d be touching down in Boston and was Virgie sure she didn’t want one of them to drive up to get her at the airport?
    â€œNo, thanks. Not necessary. I’m renting a car. I’m a big girl, remember?” When Maggie relented at last, Virgie was glad. It was easier this way.
    She eased her seat backward. When she removed her thumb from the button, though, a sticky residue clung to it. She dug into her purse for antibacterial lotion and rubbed it into her hands. Whenever traveling on assignment, Virgie carried a tube of it with her, and she was grateful for it now. There were so many gooey, germ-infested places where a girl could put her hands. If journalism had taught her one thing, it was that the world was not a safe place, and Virgie did her best to guard against whatever it chose to throw her way.
    Gradually, the release of a much-needed vacation began to settle over her, like a gentle fog softening the edges of her discontent. Maybe Miss-No-Smiles had taken pity on her and slipped something into her soda. Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle, she told herself. That is, right before the girl sitting beside her shifted in her seat and accidentally smacked Virgie in the calf with her foot, sending a spiral of pain up her leg.
    â€œOuch!”
    â€œOh! Sorry,” the girl said.
    â€œThat’s okay. These seats are awful.” Virgie rubbed her leg and forced a smile. The girl gave her a look, but Virgie couldn’t tell if it was because she was interested in talking or because she thought Virgie was a nutcase.
    â€œAre you from Boston?” Virgie tried.
    â€œNot exactly,” She removed an earbud. “I go to school outside of the city.”
    â€œOh? Whereabouts?” Virgie thought she looked awfully young to be flying out for college.
    â€œExeter.” The girl was nothing if succinct. “I’m helping with summer school.”
    â€œThat’s supposed to be a great prep school. Do you like it?”
    â€œIt’s all right.”
    â€œI’m from Maine, but I went to Vassar.” Virgie paused to see if there was any response. “In Poughkeepsie,” she added. “New York.”
    â€œCool.” The girl turned back to her magazine and replaced her earbud. But Virgie felt distinctly uncool. Her seatmate clearly wasn’t interested in