Goodbye To All That by Judith Arnold Read Free Book Online Page B

when Melissa would have been phoning Jill to announce her imminent arrival at the bus terminal. She’d lived in New York City long enough that the suburban tranquility of her sister’s neighborhood unnerved her. All those fat maple and sycamore trees, their leaves burning with fall color. All those shrubs. All those tidy lawns. All that sky. She felt as if she’d made a wrong turn and wound up on the set of a sit-com, or maybe a Disney movie. She half-expected plump little bluebirds to flit out of the foliage, trailing satin ribbons.
    She’d grown up in a neighborhood much like this, so it ought to feel like home. But as she pointed out Jill’s driveway to Luc, she felt distinctly like a guest. Especially because she had Luc with her.
    She hoped her family would like him. He really was likeable. He’d freaking driven her here. How much nicer could you get? Even though he’d admitted as they’d approached New London that he loved driving and didn’t get to sit behind the wheel often enough in New York, and if they hadn’t made this trip he probably would have borrowed Alan’s car anyway and just cruised up and down the Henry Hudson Parkway. Maybe someday, if he ever got sick of doing hair—an eventuality he couldn’t imagine right now—he’d become a cab driver.
    A Mercedes was parked in the driveway—Doug’s car—and Luc pulled up behind it and yanked on the parking brake, which gave a metallic croak. Melissa hoped it held.
    Luc didn’t seem overly awed by Jill’s house. It wasn’t spectacular, just a nice, ordinary colonial with a farmer’s porch. Three bedrooms, finished basement, deck off the back. Pretty much what you’d expect a high school teacher and his family to live in.
    They strolled up the walk to the porch. Melissa rang the bell and gave Luc a reassuring smile. He didn’t look as if he needed reassurance. His stance was relaxed, his jacket open and his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. Maybe she should have told him to wear khakis—although if he owned a pair, she’d never seen them. Every time they’d gotten together, he’d had been wearing either blue jeans or black jeans. Or no jeans at all.
    Jill opened the door, and her smile faded into a near-grimace as she took in the couple on her porch. Then she forced her mouth back into a smile. Melissa could see her cheek muscles exerting themselves. “Melissa!” she said. “I thought you were taking the bus.”
    “Hello to you, too,” Melissa retorted, then swallowed her resentment. Jill looked like shit, her cheeks wan and drawn, her hair gathered into a scrunchy at the nape of her neck, her long-sleeve white T-shirt stained by something pale and pink. A splash of wine, Melissa thought hopefully. She could use a glass of wine. Or a margarita, but that stain definitely didn’t say margarita, and Jill’s pinched appearance implied that nothing even remotely festive was being consumed inside the house.
    Jill’s gaze shifted to Luc and her smile grew brittle.
    “This is Luc Brondo,” Melissa introduced him. “Luc, this is my sister, Jill.”
    Doug abruptly materialized in the doorway next to Jill. Unlike her, he didn’t look bedraggled. But then, he never looked bedraggled. He had on a cotton polo shirt—complete with a horseback-riding polo player stitched onto the chest pocket—and pleated twill slacks. His hair was parted and his eyes—eyes that had undergone a Lasik procedure; Melissa wondered if the colleague who’d done the job had charged him for it, not that he’d have had any difficulty coming up with the money—were bright. He didn’t even attempt a smile. “Who the hell is this?” he asked, jabbing his index finger in Luc’s direction.
    “And that’s my charming brother, Doug,” she said to Luc. To Doug, she said, “He was kind enough to drive me here.”
    “Great. That was very nice of him. Maybe he can wait for you at Starbucks until we’re done here.”
    “Doug,” Jill scolded.