At the Edge by Norah McClintock Read Free Book Online Page A

You do what I want—have dinner with me. Then you do what you want—go to your party. Deal?”
    As if I had a choice.
    I called Nick and left a message telling him that I’d have to meet him at the party and that he should let me know where it was being held.

    Â Â .    .    .

    The first thing I did when I got to school the next morning was show James the phone that Morgan had picked up in the library.
    â€œIs it yours?” I said. “I found it under the table after you left.”
    James’s face flooded with relief. “I thought I’d lost it,” he said. “My dad would have killed me.”
    â€œDid you ask him about those pictures?” Morgan said at lunch.
    â€œRight,” I said. “And let him know that I peeked into something that’s none of my business.”
    â€œHe took a lot of pictures of the same person, Robyn—a guy who isn’t even good-looking.”
    â€œMaybe he’s a relative or an old friend.”
    â€œMaybe if we started a conversation with him about photography ...”
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œIt’s bad enough we even looked through it, Morgan. We are not going to pry. It’s none of our business.”

A
    fter school I went home to change. Then I took the bus uptown to the condo building where Ted lived.
    Ted beamed at me when he opened the door. He is nowhere near as big and boisterous and good-looking as my father. In fact, he’s on the short side—in heels, my mom is easily the taller of the two. He’s also mostly bald and can’t see much of anything without his glasses. But he’s a terrific cook, has an encyclopedic knowledge of jazz, and is incredibly successful in his work. He’s a financial analyst—whatever that is. My mom’s crazy about him. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she picked someone who is home every night and all weekend and who is always more than happy to pamper her when she’s had a rough day at the office or in court. My dad never did that. He was hardly ever home.
    â€œCome in, come in,” Ted said. “Your mother is in the living room. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
    My mom was on the sofa with her feet curled up under her. She was sipping a glass of wine and looking surprisingly relaxed for a workaholic who was about to get married.
    â€œRobyn, I feel as if I haven’t seen you in months,” she said, thrusting out her arms. We hugged, and I sat down beside her. Ted bustled in with a plate of canapés—tiny mushroom tarts and miniature triangles of toast topped with slivers of smoked salmon—and a ginger ale for me.
    â€œJoin us, Ted,” my mother said.
    But Ted wouldn’t hear of it.
    â€œYou two catch up,” he said. “I’ll crew the galley.”
    Ted was a sailing fanatic—or had been when he was younger. He kept saying that one of these days he was going to buy a boat, and he and my mother were going to sail around the world. My mom always smiled sweetly, but she never did anything to encourage him. She was uncomfortable at the thought of being surrounded by thousands of miles of open water, especially if there was the slightest chance that the water might be shark-infested.
    â€œSo how come you’re going out of town, Mom?” I said.
    My mom smiled mysteriously.
    â€œI can’t tell you yet,” she said. “I don’t want to jinx anything.”
    â€œAre you scouting out honeymoon locations?”
    Her smile broadened. My mom never looked happier than when she was with Ted. He seemed to have the opposite effect on her that my dad did.
    â€œHow long are you going to be gone?” I said.
    â€œProbably most of the week.” There was that smile again. What was going on?
    â€œIs Ted going with you?”
    â€œHe’s planning to join me for a few days.”
    â€œDinner’s ready,” Ted called from the