Read Online The Unlikely Romance of Kate Bjorkman by Louise Plummer - Free Book Online Page A

were fixing dinner. “Your parents went to a party tonight, so we’re baby-sitting you,” Richard said. “Think of us as your parents now.” He threw some scallions into the food chopper and turned it on.
    “I get to be the father,” Fleur yelled over the chopper.
    “That goes without saying. We all know you’ve had a certain kind of envy all your life and recognize your needs—”
    “You don’t have to speak in euphemisms for me,” I said. “I’ve read Freud.” I placed my packages on the kitchen table and took off my parka.
    “Our baby is precocious,” Richard said. He set a tray of taco chips and bean dip on the table.
    “She takes after her father,” Fleur said, laughing.
“Moi!”
    “Ahh, but her beauty comes from me, her mother,” Richard said.
    Fleur turned and pretended to look me over carefully. “She has your thighs, all right.” She laughed harder.
    “My thighs are nothing compared to his thighs,” I said. “His thighs are
gorgeous
!” They laughed at my imitation, but then I felt guilty. Sort of.
    Bjorn appeared. “What’s all the noise in here?” he said, affecting good humor.
    “Nothing much,” Richard said, “just general admiration for my thighs.”
    “Good grief.”
    “Is Trish okay?” Fleur asked. “Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes—enchiladas.”
    “Oh sure.” Bjorn shrugged. “She’ll be down in a minute. You guys ready to trim the tree?” He didn’t sound nearly as enthusiastic as he had that morning. “I guess we should wait for Mom and Dad, huh?”
    “They won’t be back until late,” I said.
    “I’m your mom now,” Richard said.
    Bjorn rolled his eyes.
    “Your real mom said to trim the tree without them,” Fleur said.
    Bjorn nodded. “Okay then,” he said. “I’ll go see if Trish is coming down.” He took a chip off the tray and left again.
    Richard whistled softly. “Methinks there is trouble in paradise.” He opened the oven door for Fleur, who lowered the dish of enchiladas into the oven.
    “There’s always trouble in paradise,” she said.
    * * *
    T RISH AND B JORN both chattered through dinner, but not with each other. Their eyes never met. Their conversation was constrained, fake. It was exhausting.
    Trimming the tree was even worse. It visibly depressed Trish to be around Bjorn’s chosen spruce. Mostly she watched the rest of us from the window seat, turning occasionally to gaze at the falling snow, a half-sullen expression on her face. To make up for Trish, Bjorn grew hyper. He talked nonstop: “You know when we were little, I had this Matchbox city built up under the tree—remember that … Rich? And Boo would come around and want to stick those little cars in the tree. She thought they were ornaments. It’d make us so mad. We’d get all the little cars lined up just the way we wanted them, and she’d come along, and, bingo, suddenly all the cars were in the tree again!” Abnormally loud laughter from him. We all smiled and nodded, except for Trish, who looked out at the snow.
    “I never had Matchbox cars of my own,” I said.
    “Boo should have been a boy. She’s tall and pretty athletic and she always liked boys’ games …” Blather, blather, blather. I wished he would put a lid on it.
    Fleur rolled her eyes.
    The tree, which had to be trimmed at the top, reached the ceiling, and when it was decorated, it really was pretty spectacular-looking, or maybe it was just that it was the kind of tree Bjorn and I had grown up with. Bjorn certainly was pleased. “Isn’t it great, honey?” he asked Trish, after turning on the tree lights and turning off the overhead lights. It was the first time he had addressedher directly all evening. He was hoping for forgiveness. I could tell. “Great, isn’t it—hon?”
    Trish turned her head slowly, her arms crossed in front of her as if she were cold. “It’s perfect,” she said flatly, and then she got up and left the room. The bedroom door closed upstairs.
    So