Starting from Scratch by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page A

of the past came flooding back to Elisha. In high school, the drama class had put on the play and she had landed the role of Juliet. She had some very fond memories of rehearsing the kiss Juliet gave Romeo in an attempt to share the poison she thought he still had on his lips. Tommy Leonetti had some very definite ideas about just how “dead” Romeo was supposed to be at the time. She wondered if Tommy was still a great kisser.
    Banking down her thoughts, she looked at her older niece. “You should be able to relate to that.”
    â€œWhy?” There was almost contempt in Andrea’s voice, but it was aimed at the Bard and the story she had to sludge through. “I wouldn’t be dorky enough to get married at fourteen.”
    A little gentle education was called for here. Not to mention a helping hand with the report. Making up her mind to tackle both, Elisha looked at her brother. “How long until dinner?”
    â€œTake all the time you need.”
    â€œOkay, then.” Elisha slipped her arm around Andrea’s shoulders, leading the girl back to her room. “What I meant by you being able to relate to this story is that Romeo and Juliet rebelled against their parents.”
    Andrea looked at her, a spark of interest entering her eyes as they left the room. “Cool.”

CHAPTER 7
    H enry said nothing on the subject throughout dinner, a simple but palate-pleasing pot roast. Neither did she. Instead, the conversation around the dining-room table centered on a variety of items that were of interest to the girls.
    But as soon as Beth had run off to test out her new video game and Andrea had excused herself to talk to her girlfriends, Henry looked at her knowingly. “You did the rest of the paper for Andrea, didn’t you?”
    She knew better than to make eye contact with him. Henry had a way of staring a person down to the point where the truth just popped out of its own accord. She’d often thought he’d missed his calling as an interrogator, although as a lawyer, it did come in handy at times.
    Elisha studied the delicate pattern on the white tablecloth as she said, “No, I guided her through the rest of the paper.”
    He sipped the last of his mineral water, his eyes still on his sister’s face. “So the report is written?”
    â€œYes.”
    He laughed softly and shook his head. “You did it for her,” he repeated.
    Elisha looked up from the white-on-white swirls. Henry had her and they both knew it. “I didn’t physically sit and write it.” A grin quirked her mouth. “She types faster than I do.”
    â€œBut you dictated.”
    It was an old game. She was determined not to cry uncle, at least not completely.
    â€œMaybe some of the words,” she allowed, then quickly followed up with, “Can I help it if she likes the way I phrase things? Really, Henry, she’s a very bright girl, just a wee bit lazy when it comes to planting her bottom on a chair and doing the work.” She knew she wasn’t telling him anything new. No man was as up on his kids and their habits as Henry was. “Hell, I deal with that almost every day.” Slowly, she began to gather up the dishes, stacking them on one another as she talked. “You have no idea how many writers talk a good book, but when it comes right down to sitting there and facing a naked page, or trying to get from point A to point B, they become like willful children. Anything’ll distract them so they don’t have to deal with that emptiness.”
    Reaching for Andrea’s water glass, Henry placed it by his own. “Emptiness?”
    â€œOf the page or computer screen,” she elaborated. Elisha moved her own glass next to her brother’s, then brought over Beth’s to complete the set. “There are a lot of good words inside their heads, but they swirl together like alphabet soup and they don’t think they have the