Unraveling Isobel by Eileen Cook Read Free Book Online Page B

of honeybees. I apologize for that too.”
    I smiled back. “Don’t think I’m letting you off for the global-warming thing, but for what it’s worth, I hate bees.” I walked past him and sat in his chair. It was still warm. He tossed me a worn quilt that had been on the floor and then sat down across from me. I picked up the book he had been reading, “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Poe. “You hang out in abandoned parts of houses just waiting for people to make idiots of themselves?”
    â€œThat was just luck. I would hang out here regardless. It’s my favorite place.”
    I couldn’t blame him. The room was huge but somehow felt cozy at the same time. In addition to the collection of worn, scarred leather chairs, there was a worn forest-green velvet chaise longue that sat under the big window at the end of the room. There was a stacked fieldstone fireplace that looked large enough to crawl around inside. There were candles on almost every flat surface, and I imagined how pretty they’d look at night. All in all, it was the kind of room I could enjoy hanging out in.
    â€œIt sucks this part of the house is shut off,” I said.
    â€œI sort of like it. Keeps it more private.”
    â€œAnd cold.”
    â€œAnd cold,” he agreed. “I’ll start a fire.” Nathaniel stood and started to stack some wood in the fireplace. Either he had spent some time in the Boy Scouts or he had some specialized fire-building training. In no time flat he had the logs stacked expertly, with tightly twisted sheets of newspaper beneath them. God, he was good looking and handy. A thought occurred to me.
    â€œI bet you’re, like, king of the senior class here, huh?” I asked.
    Nathaniel looked surprised. “Me?” He laughed. “Hardly. It’s sort of hard to fit in unless you’ve been here forever.”
    â€œBut you were born here, right? Your family, like, founded the island. Just how far back do people have to go before they decide you fit in?”
    He lit a match and touched it to the newspaper under the logs. Once the paper caught fire, he blew on the small flame until it started to grow. “I didn’t go to school here until last year.My parents sent me to boarding school out in Massachusetts.”
    â€œGet out!” I tried to picture it. “Did you have to wear short pants with a blazer and tie?” I scootched to the end of my seat while I waited for his answer.
    â€œWe didn’t wear short pants.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “We did have ties, though, and the blazers with the fancy crest on the lapel.”
    â€œLet me guess, your dad went to the same boarding school?”
    â€œAnd my grandfather, too.”
    I nodded. I could imagine Dick wandering around the grounds of a school full of picture-perfect brick buildings and trees where the leaves fell in color-coordinated piles.
    â€œSo why did you transfer here?”
    â€œMy mom was never a big fan of boarding school. I think she was behind the decision to have me move back.” He brushed wood fibers from his pants. “Plus, stuff was getting hard for her with my sister, and I think she wanted the help.” He sighed. “It was difficult as Evie got older. She had a hard time communicating. It made her frustrated. She’d throw tantrums.”
    â€œMy mom mentioned that she had a disability.”
    â€œThe doctor screwed up when Evie was born. The cord was wrapped around her neck and she was deprived of oxygen,” he explained, still crouched beside the fireplace. “The doctor had been on the golf course drinking before he went to the hospital to deliver my sister. He didn’t notice some of the readings on the monitor, so she was without oxygen long enough to causebrain damage. My parents sued him and won, but no amount of money was going to make her the way she would have been.”
    â€œThat sucks,” I said,