Evvie at Sixteen by Susan Beth Pfeffer Read Free Book Online Page A

eyes,” Evvie said. “She was squinting. Her eyes are very light sensitive, but Nicky didn’t want her wearing her sunglasses for the picture, so she ended up squinting. Thea’s eyes are the same way, but she wasn’t staring straight into the sun, so she isn’t squinting as much.”
    â€œClaire looks like her father,” Aunt Grace said. “And is that Sybil over there? The one who looks like a potato?”
    â€œSybil doesn’t look anything like a potato,” Evvie said. “It isn’t a very good picture.”
    â€œNonsense,” Grace said. “You look exactly like yourself. Nick seems to be in fine fettle. When your mother sends photographs, she never includes one of him. There’s no gray in his hair. I assume he touches it up.”
    â€œNot that I know of,” Evvie said, wishing she’d never subjected her picture to such scrutiny. “He isn’t that old, Aunt Grace. There’s no reason for his hair to turn white. Clark’s hair hasn’t.”
    â€œClark hardly has any hair,” Aunt Grace pointed out. “And the Bradford hair always stays that same shade of mousy brown no matter what their age. They’re born with it and they die with it. Terribly unattractive. I’d rather be all white, the way I am, than that dreadful boring brown.”
    Evvie supposed that was the kind of thing old people worried about, what shade of gray or white their hair would turn out to be. It wasn’t a question she’d given much thought to. “Megs is still a blond,” she said. “We have her coloring, except for Claire.”
    â€œClaire is very beautiful,” Grace said. “That was the only thing one could say about Nick, that he was an extraordinarily handsome man. His eyes actually sparkled. Do they still?”
    â€œOn occasion,” Evvie said.
    Grace examined the photograph even more closely. “I have a magnifying glass in that drawer over there,” she said. “Bring it to me.”
    Evvie did. Grace used it to check out the faces in the picture.
    â€œHe had a slight scar right by his ear,” Aunt Grace said. “His stepfather hit him with an iron skillet once and it left a scar. I can’t see it. Has he had surgery to remove it?”
    â€œHe still has the scar,” Evvie said. “I didn’t know that was how he’d gotten it, though.”
    â€œYou must have asked him,” Aunt Grace said. “What did he tell you?”
    â€œThat a dog bit him,” Evvie admitted. “When he was a little boy.”
    â€œI hired detectives,” Grace said. “It was a skillet. I never told Margaret, because she wouldn’t have seen it for the vulgar thing it was. She would have felt sorry for him instead. Although he might have told her the truth himself. Nick was never adverse to using the truth when it might further his own interests.”
    â€œI’d prefer it if you didn’t insult my father all the time,” Evvie said, taking the picture from Grace.
    â€œNo?” Aunt Grace said. “How about part of the time?”
    â€œNone of the time would be best,” Evvie said. “I know you don’t like him.”
    â€œIt isn’t a question of like or dislike,” Aunt Grace declared. “He entered this house as an uninvited guest, promptly stole Margaret’s heart, forced her to choose between her life with me, the life she’d been born to lead, and a life with him that has been insecure at best, near criminal at worst, and has caused her nothing but heart-break. He alienated her from me, and I know his only hope is that I’ll find it in my heart to forgive him, so that I’ll leave Margaret my estate, and he’ll be able to live off it for the rest of his life.”
    Evvie sighed. Things didn’t sound so great for Nicky in the will department.
    â€œI don’t hear you rushing to defend him,” Grace