Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
My parent’s behavior has grown increasingly strained over the last week. They’re both showing signs of cracking. Mom is edgier than usual, and Dad has become even more tight-lipped about the company and the history of this town. Every time I attempt to work a few questions into our conversations, he swiftly shuts them down. If I didn’t have so much shit to deal with, I would take the time to dig deeper.
Mom jerks her shoulders and presses her lips together. For a long moment, I wonder if she’ll respond.
“Your grandmother,” she says haltingly, “was not a beloved figure in Hawthorne.”
Ha! From what I’ve discovered, that’s an understatement. She had a difficult relationship with her own son, so it only stands to reason that there were other people in her life she couldn’t get along with.
Not exactly a shocking revelation.
“Because of that,” Mom continues, “she created even more bad blood with the Rothchild family, which eventually bled over to the town.” I’m taken aback by her show of emotion when she buries her face in her hands. “It’s all such a mess, Summer.”
My eyes widen and I shift my weight, unsure how to comfort her. This kind of outburst isn’t like my mother. She’s usually so upbeat and cheerful.
“Mom, I—”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize. I shouldn’t have questioned her.
She drops her hands from her face before inhaling a deep breath, visibly attempting to wrangle her emotions under control. “Please, just be there tonight. We need you.”
I nod and bite my lower lip. It feels like there’s more going on than she’s willing to admit. But then again, that’s the way everything around here feels. We’re all keeping secrets from each other. If given half a chance, this place will destroy the tightly woven fabric of our family. I don’t want that to happen.
I clear my throat and push out the question. “What time should I be ready?”
This party will be an ugly wake up call for them, but there’s nothing that can be done about it now. The only thing I can do is stand in solidarity next to them with my head held high.
Her shoulders slump as her face clears. “People will start arriving at seven o’clock.”
I glance at my sports watch. That’s three hours from now.
“The caterers should be here any moment. The plan is for them to set up a bar in the dining room.”
Excellent idea. Mom and Dad need to ply these people with as much liquor as possible.
“Do you need help with anything?” I glance around the foyer and living room. Wood has been polished to a high shine and glass sparkles in the sunlight that filters in through the windows. It’s obvious that Mom has spent a lot of time scrubbing the house from top to bottom.
“No, I’m almost done.” As she meets my gaze, a strained smile lifts her lips. There are tiny lines of tension bracketing her eyes that never used to be there. “Thanks for asking.” Her gaze searches mine before she expels a tense breath. “You’re a good girl, Summer. You’ve tried to make the best of this situation and we appreciate that.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Even though there are plenty of negatives about this place, there have also been a few positives. That’s what I try to focus on. The house and pool are amazing. I love our G-wagon. And the night sky...
Almost every evening I stare up at the brightly shining pinpricks of light, trying to find my Zen. Running and the stars. The only two things that make me forget how much I hate it here. Strangely enough, school has become tolerable. From an educational standpoint, it’s rigorous and will look good on my transcript.
“I just wish...” Mom’s soft voice trails off as she pins her lower lip with her teeth and glances away.
A strange feeling of foreboding fills me.
“What?” My throat tightens as if Kingsley’s fingers are wrapped around it, slowly constricting my airways.
“I wish this company had never been founded,” she blurts.
The honesty of her words and the threads of resentment woven through them take me by surprise. Sure, that’s how I feel, but I wasn’t expecting her to voice the same sentiment.
“Then we’d be back in Chicago,” she finishes almost wistfully.
“Yeah.” I don’t understand where all this is coming from. From everything I’ve seen, Mom has been happy here. So this sudden about face doesn’t make sense. “That would be nice.”
For me, it’s been a different story. I wish more than anything we could go back to our old life. We’ve been here less than a month and it feels like forever. I search my brain, trying to dredge up memories of Chicago. It’s disconcerting to realize that some have already blurred around the edges. They aren’t as crisp and clear as they should be.