The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet by Susan Ward Read Free Book Online Page B

other. Maybe someday be friends. I’d like that.”
    A long pause. His even breathing grows louder
with each second. Finally he says, “We are the farthest thing from enemies,
Chrissie. I will always love you.”
    My heart turns over, my tightly coiled nerves
unfurl, and the last of my energy gushes out of me. I say it without thought,
my drowsy mind betraying me, “Me, too,” and then sleep.
    ~~~
    I
wake sweaty and hot beneath too many blankets with something hard cutting into
the side of my cheek. I lift my head. Crap, the phone. I fell asleep talking to
Alan.
    My cheeks flush. I didn’t want to hang up so I
listened to Alan until I couldn’t, letting the sound of him follow me into
sleep.
    Fuck, Chrissie, how pathetic is that?
    I roll onto my other side and toss my mobile onto
a night table. 10 a.m. I’ve slept halfway through the morning. And Linda is out
there. Another day trying to figure out how to amuse her.
    Struggling to sit up, I chastise myself for the
uncharitable thought. I expected having Linda here to be hard, awkward for us
both, but it’s nice, really nice. Comfortable. But then that’s Linda. She’s
like Rene. Everything just works for her, even incredibly emotionally
complicated relationships with ex-girlfriends of a guy she had a thing with,
too. 
    That always bothers me more than it should, that
Linda and Alan at some point had a thing together. Totally ridiculous, since I
was a little girl at the time and I’m not even sure what kind of thing it
was. Neither of them talks about their history together, though being that it
was Alan, sexual is the logical assumption.
    I feel another internal proprietary kind of prick
and scrunch up my nose. Face it, Chrissie. You’ve moved from pathetic to
ridiculous this morning. Stop it. Alan wasn’t yours back then and he isn’t
yours today.
    After peeing and brushing my teeth, I go down the
hall, finding the door open to Linda’s room, and peek in. Nope, not there. I
continue on to the kitchen. Empty as well.
    I frown. I take in the room in a single fast-moving
gaze. What the hell happened in here? It’s spotless. I make my way to the
center island and find a tray with a carafe of coffee labeled with a Post-it
note: decaf. Fruit salad. Muffins—I lean in to smell and then touch—fresh baked
blueberry, still warm.
    Jeez, it’s like rooming with Mary Poppins, only
Linda is definitely a weird incarnation of that. Why is she going out of her
way to be exceptionally kind to me? She’s my guest. I should be doing things
for her. But then I remember our time at The Farm. Her take-charge attitude of
Alan’s house. Her delicious cooking. How she made sure everyone had everything
they wanted, always.
    I pour a mug of coffee, smiling. Linda is so
sweet in her own way. After putting a muffin onto a plate, I take my breakfast
with me as I look for her again. Waddle. Waddle. Waddle. I exhale loudly. Not
in the living room. Well, she’s certainly made herself at home here if I can’t
find her.
    I look at the door to the downstairs. Nope, not
doing it. Then I notice that the door into the garage is open. I climb the
stairs, go into the garage and maneuver through the cars. The door is open to
the patio we built above the second floor.
    A widow’s walk, someone had called it, but it was
just the only place where we could have a large patio on our slanting mountain
property and the views from here are incredible. Ocean, islands and Santa
Barbara visible in one direction, mountains the other.
    I don’t see her but step out anyway. Linda is
sitting reclined in a chaise dressed in tight, short aerobics pants and a half
top, feet clad in Nikes, hair back stylishly, and full makeup. She’s stunning
even dressed like that.
    I set my coffee and muffin on a table before
sitting down beside her. “Good morning. Thank you for the breakfast. You must
have gotten up early.”
    She smiles. “I can’t sleep here. It’s too damn
quiet.”
    Her eyes start searching the