Perfect Nightmare by John Saul Read Free Book Online Page A

we all like,” her father said, but Lindsay knew the truth.
    Her parents would find something they liked.
    The best she could do was cope.
    But she would do it. Somehow, she would do it.

Chapter Eight
    K ara was just fastening the last button on her blouse when she heard the doorbell. Damn. Was he early? A glance at the bedside clock told her he was right on time— she was late. “Lindsay?” she called. “Are you about ready?”
    The only response was the sound of the toilet flushing in Lindsay’s bathroom, which meant that she was still a while away from being ready.
    Kara slipped into her shoes and hurried down the stairs, tucking the blouse into her skirt. “Coming,” she breathed, hating, as always, to make anybody wait, and wondering why even the few seconds it took to get to the door made her feel guilty.
    Mark Acton stood at the door, briefcase in hand, his agent’s smile covering his face like a mask. “Good morning!”
    Kara pulled the door wide. “Hi, Mark. Come on in. We’re running a little late this morning.”
    “No problem. You take your time, and I’ll just get started setting up.”
    Kara put Steve’s breakfast dishes in the dishwasher and turned off the coffeepot. “Coffee before I throw it away?”
    “No, thanks.”
    She took a final swipe at the countertops, then looked around to make certain the kitchen looked clean and appealing. Suddenly the yellow paint she’d decided on two years ago didn’t seem like such a good choice. Too late now. “Lindsay!” she called up the stairs. “Time to go!” She turned back to the real-estate agent. “How’s the response so far?”
    “I’m expecting twenty or so agents to caravan through.”
    “Twenty! I didn’t know there were that many agents in town.” She wished she’d researched it more thoroughly and chosen a listing agent she liked a little better. Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Lindsay’s voice.
    “Mom?”
    “Hi, honey,” Kara said, glancing up at her daughter, who had paused halfway down the stairs. “Time to go.” Lindsay didn’t move, and it wasn’t until she spoke that Kara realized her gaze was fixed on Mark Acton.
    “Is he showing the house today?”
    “It’s the agents’ open house,” Kara said. “Are you ready? I’m already late.”
    “Where are you going?”
    Kara frowned. “I told you last night—I’m going into the city to see some more apartments and have lunch with your father.”
    Lindsay’s eyes followed Mark Acton as he moved around the living room, making tiny adjustments to the furniture and carefully leveling the pictures on the walls. “What time is this open house going to be finished?”
    Kara frowned as she watched Lindsay stare at the agent with open hostility. “Honey, where are your manners?” She shrugged apologetically to the agent, but he waved it off.
    “I just don’t want to come home and have a bunch of strange people here,” Lindsay said, her tone annoying Kara.
    “Not a problem,” Mark assured her, exaggeratedly ignoring the teenager’s hostility. “I’ll be finished by early afternoon.”
    “And I should be home by five,” Kara said, her voice tightening as Lindsay’s expression only darkened further. “Mark will be gone and I’ll be home. Will that suit Your Highness?”
    Stung by her mother’s words, Lindsay turned and fled back up the stairs.
    Kara sighed, knowing she’d handled Lindsay badly. But she was late and still had a lot to do, and for once Lindsay would just have to take care of herself. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, more to herself and the departed Lindsay than to the real-estate agent.
    “Moving is hard on kids,” Mark said. “I know.”
    “It’s hard on everybody,” Kara said.
    Then Lindsay came running down the stairs again, purse slung over her shoulder, book bag in hand. She stopped short and turned to face Mark Acton without a trace of the hostility she’d shown only a moment before. “I’m sorry,” she said, almost