turning to them in the hallway. “If she’s not better by morning, I’m going to call the doctor.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Carole asked.
“No. You two got her home safe, and that’s enough for now. Why don’t you relax?”
“Would you mind if we used the computer? We’d like to e-mail Stevie.”
“That would be fine, girls,” Mrs. Devine said absently. “I’ll call you for dinner.”
When the girls signed on, they were surprised to find nothing from their friend in Massachusetts.
“What do you think, Lisa? A good sign or bad?”
Lisa considered for a moment. “Good, I guess. Maybe she finally found something more interesting to do than write us with all her complaints.”
Carole held up crossed fingers. “We can only hope. Now, what should we tell her about today?”
“Obviously we have to downplay the dinosaur dig.”
“Gee,” Carole said sarcastically. “Sifting dirt in the blazing sun for hours and hours and finding absolutely nothing … how could we possibly downplay that?”
“I enjoyed it.”
Carole shrugged. “Whatever. I know, we can tell her how Kate has the flu and that her mom may not let her out riding for the rest of the visit.”
“Wait a minute. Mrs. Devine didn’t say that,” Lisa protested.
“She didn’t
not
say it, either,” Carole pointed out. “Besides, we have to be creative here. We’re suppose to be having a terrible time, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Here,” said Carole, pushing Lisa away from the keyboard and taking her place. “Let me do it.”
Lisa watched, intrigued, as Carole carefully crafted a tale of endless work, thankless chores, and raging pestilence.
“You know, Carole, you’re getting really good at this,” she said, reading over her friend’s shoulder.
Carole put her arms behind her head and leaned back with a satisfied smile. “I know. This one is practically a work of art.”
T HURSDAY EVENING , TWO days before the wedding and one day before the big rehearsal dinner, the Lake family pulled up outside the Sinclairs’ house for yet another gathering of the immediate family.
Stevie stared at the house through the van window. It was a white two-story place with a spacious front lawn that was somewhat overwhelmed by a couple of giant spruce trees. A winding path bordered by cheerful flowers led the way up to the front door. All the windows were brightly lit, and party music filtered out into the sultry summer twilight.
Stevie leaned close to her window and fogged it with her breath, making the house disappear.
If only it were that easy
, she thought.
“The main party is going to be inside,” Mrs. Lake informed them. “But Margaret said she would put some things outside for you kids as well.”
“Oh, good, mosquito central,” Stevie muttered, drawing a frowning face in the vapor on the glass. Although she had slathered herself with insect repellent, she doubted very much that it would do any good. “Can I wait here in the air-conditioned, mosquito-free van?”
“The porch area is screened in,” her mother reminded her.
“Great. Trapped like a rat in a cage.”
“If you get restless, you’re welcome to run free. The Sinclairs own several acres of land behind the house. It almost makes me want to move here.”
Stevie shuddered at the very thought.
“Stevie, get out,” Alex said, shoving her. “You’re holding everyone up.”
“You should be thanking me,” she told him as she reluctantly slid open the door. “The mosquitoes aren’t the only bloodsuckers around here.”
“Why are you always moaning about Dava, anyway?” he asked, scrambling out behind her. “She’s not so bad.”
“For a girl,” her younger brother, Michael, said.
Stevie watched as Alex adjusted his baggy pants and fastened the top button of his shirt.
“How can you wear it like that?” she asked. “It’s ninety degrees out here, with ninety percent humidity.”
“Yeah,” he acknowledged. “But the
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Carole asked.
“No. You two got her home safe, and that’s enough for now. Why don’t you relax?”
“Would you mind if we used the computer? We’d like to e-mail Stevie.”
“That would be fine, girls,” Mrs. Devine said absently. “I’ll call you for dinner.”
When the girls signed on, they were surprised to find nothing from their friend in Massachusetts.
“What do you think, Lisa? A good sign or bad?”
Lisa considered for a moment. “Good, I guess. Maybe she finally found something more interesting to do than write us with all her complaints.”
Carole held up crossed fingers. “We can only hope. Now, what should we tell her about today?”
“Obviously we have to downplay the dinosaur dig.”
“Gee,” Carole said sarcastically. “Sifting dirt in the blazing sun for hours and hours and finding absolutely nothing … how could we possibly downplay that?”
“I enjoyed it.”
Carole shrugged. “Whatever. I know, we can tell her how Kate has the flu and that her mom may not let her out riding for the rest of the visit.”
“Wait a minute. Mrs. Devine didn’t say that,” Lisa protested.
“She didn’t
not
say it, either,” Carole pointed out. “Besides, we have to be creative here. We’re suppose to be having a terrible time, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Here,” said Carole, pushing Lisa away from the keyboard and taking her place. “Let me do it.”
Lisa watched, intrigued, as Carole carefully crafted a tale of endless work, thankless chores, and raging pestilence.
“You know, Carole, you’re getting really good at this,” she said, reading over her friend’s shoulder.
Carole put her arms behind her head and leaned back with a satisfied smile. “I know. This one is practically a work of art.”
T HURSDAY EVENING , TWO days before the wedding and one day before the big rehearsal dinner, the Lake family pulled up outside the Sinclairs’ house for yet another gathering of the immediate family.
Stevie stared at the house through the van window. It was a white two-story place with a spacious front lawn that was somewhat overwhelmed by a couple of giant spruce trees. A winding path bordered by cheerful flowers led the way up to the front door. All the windows were brightly lit, and party music filtered out into the sultry summer twilight.
Stevie leaned close to her window and fogged it with her breath, making the house disappear.
If only it were that easy
, she thought.
“The main party is going to be inside,” Mrs. Lake informed them. “But Margaret said she would put some things outside for you kids as well.”
“Oh, good, mosquito central,” Stevie muttered, drawing a frowning face in the vapor on the glass. Although she had slathered herself with insect repellent, she doubted very much that it would do any good. “Can I wait here in the air-conditioned, mosquito-free van?”
“The porch area is screened in,” her mother reminded her.
“Great. Trapped like a rat in a cage.”
“If you get restless, you’re welcome to run free. The Sinclairs own several acres of land behind the house. It almost makes me want to move here.”
Stevie shuddered at the very thought.
“Stevie, get out,” Alex said, shoving her. “You’re holding everyone up.”
“You should be thanking me,” she told him as she reluctantly slid open the door. “The mosquitoes aren’t the only bloodsuckers around here.”
“Why are you always moaning about Dava, anyway?” he asked, scrambling out behind her. “She’s not so bad.”
“For a girl,” her younger brother, Michael, said.
Stevie watched as Alex adjusted his baggy pants and fastened the top button of his shirt.
“How can you wear it like that?” she asked. “It’s ninety degrees out here, with ninety percent humidity.”
“Yeah,” he acknowledged. “But the
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