That Summer: A Novel by Lauren Willig Read Free Book Online Page B

“empty” had been used quite distinctly.
    Julia dumped her computer bag on top of her wheelie. “Yes, it is Julia,” she said cautiously. “And you are—?”
    “Oh, sorry.” The stranger came forward, hand extended in welcome. Even in ballet flats, she was a good four inches taller than Julia in her high-heeled loafers. “It’s Nat,” she said, and, when Julia looked blank, tried again. “Natalie? Your cousin? I’ve haven’t seen you since—well. Yonks.”
    Julia forced a smile. Not very polite to admit she had no recollection of Natalie, no recollection at all, so instead she said, “It’s been a while.”
    She didn’t ask, What are you doing here? but the question must have been implied, because Natalie laughed lightly and said, “Crenshaw told my mother that you’d be in this week, so I thought I’d pop by, make sure the lights worked and the loo wasn’t stopped up. I didn’t mean to scare you, though. They hadn’t thought you’d be in until tomorrow.”
    Natalie was smiling, smiling brightly, but her eyes didn’t match her lips. Or maybe that was just the half-light of the hall, creating shadows, distorting perception.
    Next to the other woman’s casual trendiness Julia felt even more dirty and disheveled than she had before, painfully aware that her jeans and shirt had been with her since New York. They had the accumulated stains on them to prove it. Her hair was coming out of her ponytail and she could feel the waves of dirt coming off herself like Pig-Pen in the old Charlie Brown comics.
    It put her at a distinct disadvantage.
    “That’s very sweet of you,” said Julia cautiously. It seemed rude to ask how Natalie had gotten in, but Julia wasn’t sure she liked the idea of cousins popping in and out at will. If Natalie was a cousin. “Does your mother have a key?”
    Natalie wafted Julia’s question aside. “That kitchen door never closes properly.”
    Good to know. She’d have to find the local equivalent of Home Depot and install a bolt.
    “Besides”—Natalie leaned forward confidingly, bringing with her the slightly chemical scent of expensive shampoo—“I wasn’t going to leave you all alone in the chamber of horrors.”
    “I was thinking more House of Usher,” admitted Julia. “Are there any other lights in here?”
    “It wasn’t as bad when the foliage was trimmed,” said Nat, casting a dubious look around the hall. “There used to be some light from the windows. Not exactly cozy, is it?”
    “I don’t know. A bit of Windex, some hedge trimmers, a can of gasoline…” Hmm, she probably shouldn’t joke about arson, not to someone she didn’t know. Julia massaged her aching shoulder. “Do you live around here?”
    Nat gave an exaggerated shudder. “Hardly.” From her expression Julia gathered that her question was a social solecism. “Would you like the tour?”
    What she would really like was an hour of privacy to settle in and get her bearings. But Nat didn’t seem to be going anywhere fast. Was this normal? Julia had never had any family before, or none that she remembered. It was hard to know where the boundaries were meant to be. She and her father had adopted the New Yorkers’ creed of keeping to oneself.
    “Sure,” said Julia. “But first—a bathroom?”
    “This way.” Natalie led the way to a tiny bathroom tucked away under the stairs, just a toilet, a sink, and a mirror. The toilet was the old kind, with a wooden seat and a tank hanging from the ceiling, chain dangling down. “It’s a bit primitive, but it works. Mostly.”
    There were times when it was an advantage to be on the smaller side; Julia’s head just cleared the sloping ceiling. The wallpaper was covered with bits of verse. I have wasted time, and now time doth waste me . If you neglect time, like a wilted rose, it withers . Tempus fugit . Cheerful stuff.
    Julia made a mental note to repaper the bathroom before showing the place to prospective buyers. Constant reminders of