Read Online The Winter Place by Alexander Yates - Free Book Online

anchored to the safety of a strip mall, fast-casual food, and hugs good-bye in skillet-hot parking lots. Still, Tess knew that Sam loved the old man. She did, too.
    â€œOh, baby girl, my darling.” Grandpa Paul was lilting on the phone, trailing off. He must have had a bottle to his lips since hearing the news.
    â€œHi, Grandpa,” Tess said. She whispered it, so as not to wake Axel up.
    â€œIf this isn’t a bucket of awful, I don’t . . .” Hepaused. A sob escaped him like a belch, high and tinny. “Listen. Listen.” He was steeling himself against crying, or trying to, at least. “We’re coming, baby girl. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
    Tess sat up on the sectional. She turned her back to her brother and then hunched over to make her body a catcher’s mitt for her voice. “Who’s we , Grandpa?”
    If Grandpa Paul heard what she’d said, it certainly didn’t register. “You. Your brother. Both of you, now. You are going to be taken care of. Hear me? Plenty to be sad about right now. Plenty.” He paused again to master his breathing. “But nothing to worry about. I want you to know that, Tess.”
    â€œGrandpa, are you bringing somebody with you?” She spoke a little louder now.
    â€œOf course I am, sweetheart. I’m coming, and I’m bringing your grandma.”
    â€œPlease, whoever she is, don’t call her that,” Tess said. Grandpa Paul had a girlfriend more often than he didn’t, though never for more than a few months straight. By her count, Tess had met at least three would-be stepgrannies at various Olive Gardens scattered throughout central Florida. “Please,” she repeated, “could you just come alone?”
    â€œNonsense. I just spoke to her. When you meet her, you—”
    â€œI don’t want to meet anybody, Grandpa.”
    â€œCan’t help you with that, honey.” Grandpa Paul didn’t say anything more for a while. Tess could faintly hear music on the other end, the buzzing whoosh of a truck driving on a wet road. There was a single tavern in the Boils. She knew because it was set right up against the drop point for one of the Ocala canoe runs, and they used to stop by for early waffles before putting in. Tess imagined her granddad standing outside now, broom-skinny in an old phone booth, ferns and palmetto reaching darkly from the bank. Did he have any idea that it was one of his son’s favorite places in the world? Whatever woman he was seeing must have been in the tavern, waiting on another round, maybe planning her upcoming trip to New York. Tess wondered if he’d even told her it was for his son’s funeral.
    â€œHow’s your brother doing?” Grandpa Paul said, sort of suddenly.
    Tess turned to peek at Axel on the short end of the sectional. He was either asleep or faking it well. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
    â€œCome on, now,” Grandpa Paul said. “Yes, you do.”

    Tess and Axel went back to the A-frame every day to feed Bigwig, but on the morning of thefuneral they were surprised to see that somebody had boxed up nearly all of their possessions. The library shelves stood bare, and the furniture was shoved against the walls. There were open crates everywhere, many already labeled in thick blue marker. BOOKS—ENGLISH and BOOKS—NOT ENGLISH , as well as KITCHEN and, oddly: WEAPONS . Tess and Axel stood speechless on the threshold.
    â€œMost of your clothes got packed yesterday afternoon,” Mrs. Ridgeland said, “but I left a few options out on your beds. Nothing is quite right for today, I’m afraid, but there’s no helping it. We don’t have time to shop.”
    Neither Tess nor Axel said a word. Axel made for his bedroom, pausing on the way to grip the rim of an overflowing box. Tess followed him, picking a few spilled books up off the floor. One of them was an old