The Book of James by Ellen J. Green Read Free Book Online Page A

you, I’d go back to Maine. You got millions out of the deal.
    Take it.” He continued poking at my palm with the tweezers.
    “What did they say happened?”
    “The most common rumor was that Nick ran off with the
    groundskeeper’s fifteen-year-old daughter. But I wouldn’t be sur-
    prised if he just wanted to get away from that house.”
    “Do you know anyone named James, by any chance?”
    He glanced up but didn’t seem alarmed. “Probably five off the
    top of my head. Why?”
    I took a breath. “Someone from school, maybe? Or someone
    Nick knew?”
    He stood and opened the medicine cabinet. “None that come
    to mind. Why?” When I said nothing for a few moments, he looked
    down at me. “What?”
    “One of the last things he talked about before he died was
    someone named James.”
    THE BOOK of JAMES
    43
    He pulled my hand over the sink and poured antiseptic onto
    my palm. It stung, and I winced. “What about James?” he said.
    I shrugged. “He insisted I had to come here and find him.” I
    wanted to tell Dylan all of it, but I had no idea if I could trust him.
    I’d already said too much.
    “So what are you going to do now?” he asked.
    “Send Cora a note to let her know about the accident. Ask her
    to meet me. If she ignores me, then . . . I don’t know. But if she agrees, I’m going to take her up on it.”
    He wrapped my hand clumsily in gauze and taped it in place.
    “That’s the best I can do for now,” he said. For a moment we were both silent. “Just be very careful, Mackenzie.”
    “Be careful why? Is there something else I need to know?” I
    stood to face him.
    His eyebrows knitted together. “No. Tread lightly and go with
    your gut. You’re trained to read people, right?”
    I wasn’t sure I had done such a good job with Nick’s family
    so far. “I will be careful and I will tread lightly, but I’m not going home right now. Not until I meet Nick’s mother and figure out if
    anything Nick said to me was true.”
    “God help you both.” His words were soft. “Come on. I’ll take
    you home.”
    —
    I wrote the note on creamy hotel stationery and read it over until I knew it by heart. I told Nick’s mother in the gentlest terms possible that Nick had died in a car accident. I told her I would like to meet her and that she could reach me at the hotel or on my
    cel . The note had no warmth to it, but I didn’t feel that it needed any. Nick hadn’t been fond of his mother. Maybe she wasn’t fond
    of him either. I tucked the note into the matching envelope and
    held it over the mail slot in the hal way. The textured paper slipped 44
    ELLEN J. GREEN
    from my fingers, and part of my sanity spiraled down the chute
    along with it. I headed back to my room, my stomach twisting with anticipation.

CHAPTER 10
    Philadelphia boasted lots of things to do—museums, theater, bal-
    let, the orchestra, and, of course, basebal . I was too restless to enjoy any of it. A week had passed since I’d sent the letter, and Cora Whitfield’s silence was producing an angst that was ripping
    my stomach apart. I was eating little and had gone through nearly two bottles of Tums.
    My cell phone sat on the end table. I stared at it, willing it to ring. “Damn it, Cora,” I whispered. “Just talk to me, please.”
    All my business here was done. I’d finished the lawyer’s ques-
    tionnaire and emailed some ideas for my wil . Dylan had written
    back that the papers were ready for my signature. I desperately
    wanted to go home, to sleep in my own bed, to appreciate the cooler weather and colors of fall in New England. The heat had subsided a bit in Philadelphia but had now turned to a misty, warm, mosquito-luring drizzle. For days now I’d donned a raincoat and explored
    the nearby attractions in the afternoon: the parkway museums,
    shopping, historical sites. By evening I was back in, feet up, watching TV or talking on the phone. Room service had become an
    expensive routine.
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    ELLEN J. GREEN
    I