Between Seasons by Aida Brassington Read Free Book Online Page A

lately, but he hadn’t really thought anything of it. Maybe this woman had bought their house.
    “Have a seat.” Sara gestured toward the table in the kitchen. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you. The guy from the electric company was just here, and I haven’t had time to unpack or shop.”
    The woman flapped her hand at Sara and pulled out a chair before sliding into it. “No worries. If I’d been thinking I would have brought you some coffee. I’m a bear when I haven’t had a few cups in the morning.”
    “Would you like a cookie at least?” Sara took the plastic wrap off the plate and held it out. Patrick hovered over the food, fingers twitching into a chocolate chip as he looked on in longing. It had been forever since he’d had a cookie, and he could just imagine how it would crumble in his mouth, the chocolate like silk on his tongue. He groaned and stepped away, wishing he could grab the plate and run away to gorge himself.
    “Nope. You’ll need something fattening and completely terrible for you after getting your house in order.” The neighbor grinned . “I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood and introduce myself.”
    Sara set the plate on the counter and chuckled. “I’m an ass – I haven’t even told you my name. Sara Oswald.” She placed her fingers over her chest, drumming them twice against her prominent clavicle.
    “I know. Your real estate agent likes to gossip.”
    Sara chuckled, leaning against the counter. Patrick stood next to her, watching the two women carefully. “Yeah, Dara’s nice. Chatty. I already knew everyone’s name in the neighborhood before I left Portland.” Her lips curl ed up in amusement. “Let’s see . I f you’re Megan, that means your husband is Roger Lonergan. Some kind of doctor, right?”
    The woman – Megan, Patrick assumed – slapped her hand lightly on the table, the sound echoing through the kitchen. “Psychiatrist,” she said, grinning. “I was an accountant, but I’m taking some time off to raise our daughter.”
    Patrick snorted. Sara seemed to need professional mental help, and he sure as Hell could use someone to listen to him. He wondered if Roger Lonergan could tell him how to find Heaven or at least make it onto the sidewalk in front of the house without losing five hours – yes, he counted after the third time it happened. Somehow Patrick assumed if he showed up in the neighbor’s office talking about being a ghost and all of that, he’d end up in a mental institution… which Patrick had to admit had a certain draw to it. Not that he could actually get to the office.
    He could admit to being a little nuts in the head because of all that he’d dealt with in the last forty years, but it was the idea of finally seeing something new and meeting new people that excited him. Even the idea of hanging out with mental patients seemed pretty cool.
    “Oh, you have a daughter? How old is she?”
    “Is she the one that’s been screaming her head off?” Patrick asked. He seemed to remember hearing a kid yelling and carrying on in the middle of the night a few times. It had woken him out of a deep sleep at least once.
    “She’s fourteen months now and a total terror. Her name is Stephanie. Do you have any kids? Dara didn’t say.”
    Patrick whipped his head toward Sara. Her face crumpled for a moment before answer ing . “No, no kids for me. I’m single.”
    “Oh? That’s, uh, that’s great. And you moved here from Portland?”
    “Yeah, I… well, I’m a writer, so I can work anywhere. I just needed a change.”
    “I hear you on that.” Megan smirked and rubbed her cheek.
    Patrick could empathize too. He desperately wanted something different, something that wasn’t these same walls day after day. Having Sara in his house was the biggest thrill he’d had in forever . Her presence was almost better than seeing Sh ell y Benscoter’s boobs after the prom. “So, you’re a writer? What do you