Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas by James Patterson Read Free Book Online Page B

open book. What do you want to know?”
    It turned out that Jean was a local artist— a painter. She walked me through the cottage and showed me some of her work. She
     was good, too. I knew enough to be fairly sure that her paintings could have sold at a lot of galleries in Back Bay, or even
     New York. Jean had framed a quote from the primitive artist Grandma Moses. It said, “I paint from the top down. From the sky,
     then the mountains, then the hills, then the cattle, and then the people.”
    Jean laughed at my praise of her work and said, “I once saw a cartoon with a couple standing before a Jackson Pollock painting.
     The painting had a price tag of a million dollars under it, and the man turned to the woman and said, ‘Well, he comes through
     clear enough on the price.’ ” She had a good sense of humor about her work, about anything really. I saw a lot of her in Matt.
    The afternoon turned into evening, and Matt and I ended up staying for dinner. There was even time to see a priceless old
     album of some of Matt’s baby pictures.
    He was a
cutie,
Nick. He had your blond hair as a boy, and that spunky look you have sometimes.
    “No naked bottoms on bear rugs?” I asked Jean as I went through the pictures.
    She laughed. “Look hard enough, and I’m sure you’ll find one. He has a nice butt. If you haven’t seen it, you should ask for
     a look.”
    I
laughed. Jean was a hoot.
    “All right,” Matt said, “show’s over. Time to hit the highway.”
    “We were just getting into the good stuff,” Jean said, and made a pouty face. “You are a party pooper.”
    It was about eleven when we finally got up to leave. Jean grabbed me in a hug.
    She whispered against my cheek, “He never ever brings anybody home. So whatever you think of him, he must like you a lot.
     Please don’t hurt him. He
is
sensitive, Suzanne. And he’s a pretty good guy.”
    “Hey!” Matt finally called from the car. “Knock it off, you two.”
    “Too late,” his mother said. “The damage is already done. I had to spill the beans. Suzanne knows enough to drop you like
     a bad habit.”
     
    The damage was probably already done—to me. I was falling for Matthew Harrison. I couldn’t quite believe it myself, but it
     was happening, if it hadn’t already happened.
    The Hot Tin Roof is a fun nightclub at the Martha’s Vineyard Airport in Edgartown. Matt and I went there to eat oysters and
     listen to the blues on Friday night. At that point, I would have gone anywhere with him.
    A host of local celebrities floated in and out of the bar: funky, laid-back Carly Simon, Tom Paxton, William Styron and his
     wife, Rose. Matt thought it would be fun to sit at the raw bar and just people watch. It was, too.
    “Want to slow dance?” Matt asked me after we’d had our fill of oysters and cold beer.
    “Dance? No one is dancing, Matt. I don’t think this is a dancing-type place.”
    “This is my favorite song, and I’d love to dance with you. Will you dance with me, Suzanne?”
    I did something I do infrequently. I blushed.
    “Come on,” Matt whispered against my cheek. “No one will tell the other doctors at the hospital.”
    “All right. One dance.”
    “Done well, one dance will always lead to another,” he said.
    We began to slow dance in our little corner of the bar. Eyes started to turn our way. What was I doing? What had happened
     to me? Whatever it was, it felt so good to be doing it.
    “Is this okay?” Matt checked.
    “You know, actually, it’s great. What is this song, anyway? You said it was your favorite.”
    “Oh, I have no idea, Suzanne. I just wanted an excuse to hold you close.”
    With that, Matt held me a little tighter. I loved being in his arms. I loved, loved, loved it. Corny maybe, but absolutely
     true. What can I say? I felt a little dizzy as we spun around in rhythm with the music.
    “I have a question to ask you,” he whispered against the side of my ear.
    “Okay,” I whispered back.
    “How