More Than Water by Renee Ericson Read Free Book Online Page B

Satisfied with the variety and angles, I announce, “I think that’s everything I need.”
    Detaching the camera from the tripod, I place it into my bag and rise back up to begin breaking down the rest of my equipment.
    But someone beat me to it.
    Foster collapses the tripod legs and then locks everything into place without me having to even tell him how. Carrying the metal stand, he begins to walk toward where my vehicle is parked in a nearby garage.
    “So, what’s your parents’ story?” Foster questions as we’re crossing the street. “Divorced or something?”
    “Worse. They’re happily married. They always do the right thing and are loved by everyone they meet.”
    “Sounds like a total nightmare.”
    “A very scary one.”
     
     

 
    It’s the Friday after Thanksgiving, and I’m fleeing New York City two days earlier than regularly scheduled. The visit was not a warm one.
    I’d arrived at my parents’ penthouse on Wednesday afternoon and ended up going out with a high school friend, who was also back in town, to catch up since my parents had a social function to attend that would last through the evening. The following day, I’d joined them, Barbara, and her newlywed husband, Geoffrey, for Thanksgiving dinner at the same hotel we had dined at since I was six.
    The meal itself had been overly indulgent and grand, as was the conversation. By the time dinner had ended, it had been obvious that my presence wasn’t needed in New York—or even desired, for that matter. My father had promptly left for Italy on business, and my mother had made arrangements with Barbara to visit Geoffrey’s family in the Hamptons. Being an afterthought for the holiday, I’d decided to return to campus where stilettos and pencil skirts weren’t a requirement.
    I’d devised a white lie about studying for finals and spending the weekend working on my thesis. None of my family had batted an eye about my soon-to-be absence, so I’d booked the earliest flight available.
    I will be landing back where I truly belong in less than three hours.
    “Flight attendants,” the pilot announces over the aircraft cabin, “prepare for takeoff, please.”
    Settling back into my seat, my tension dissipates when the plane pulls away from the gate. It’s not long before we’re on the runway and ascending into the air. I gaze out the window, watching the world below become smaller with every passing second. When the New York skyline is well out of view, I close the shade along with my eyes, exhausted and free, drifting to sleep.
     
    ~~~~~~
     
    “Evelyn,” my mother says, her high heels clicking across the hardwood floor of my bedroom, “I’m heading out for the day.” She stops by the window, drawing the taupe curtain to view the street twenty stories below.
    “Where are you going?” I ask in my eleven-year-old voice, turning within my seat at the vanity.
    “Meetings, darling. The charity auction I’m heading this year needs a lot of my attention right now. After that, I have an appointment with Gregor at the salon and then drinks with Charlotte and Daniella. I can’t very well let them down.”
    “Oh,” I say, smoothing out the wrinkles in the skirt my mother purchased for me on one of her daily shopping excursions last week. The white eyelet trim is similar to the scallop on my bedding.
    “Marisa will see that you do all your lessons,” she says, referring to our live-in au pair.
    Marisa has been with me for the last two years, joining us after the previous employee went back to Europe.
    “Be sure to brush up on your French. I hope she’s been conversing with you in it daily.”
    “She has.”
    “Good. I’ll talk to her about it as well. We’re all going with your father to Paris to meet up with our dear friends in two weeks. You need to be prepared.”
    “I remember,” I reply obligingly.
    “Yes. Well, you’ll want to be sure you can speak the language fluently to make good conversation with their son, Gerard.