A Shore Thing Read Online Free

their minds, my stubbornness made me walk away from everything I’d built.
    Didn’t they understand the real reason I took Justin’s offer to buy me out?
    I neared the top, my breathing jagged, my face overheated, when my stray friend raced me toward the peak. His tongue hung from his mouth, rubbery and pink like a warm strip of taffy. I stopped and bit my lip. How would Sheila react if I brought him along? As I stood there, debating how a four-legged date might disrupt our family gathering, my new friend hoisted himself on his hind legs, looking much like a miniature kangaroo. He sniffed my aching elbow and gave it a swift lick. How gross. And precious.
    With my good arm, I placed a fist on my hip. “Okay, my new friend, you’re invited. Just be on your best behavior.” His tail wagged in agreement and we headed up the hill, Sheila’s picture-perfect home framed in the clearing.
    My sister welcomed me, if you could call it that, at the door. “You’re late again.” The rooster on her apron glared at me, and Sheila stared over my shoulder. “What is that?”
    “Oh, Sheila, you’re never going to believe—”
    She turned her back on me. “With you, sure I would. Don’t bring that thing in, and hurry up, we’ve already started eating.” I watched her sidle away.
    In one quick bend, I scooped up the doggy—really must find him a name—slipped along the side of the house and opened up the back gate to a long and wide expanse of manicured lawn. “Here you go, mister. Behave and maybe I’ll bring you some quiche or something.” He gazed at me with wondrous eyes. “Okay, some red meat. I’ll find you some. Promise.”
    I slipped in through the slider door. “Auntie Callie, you’re here!” My six-year-old niece Brenna rolled from her chair and into my arms. We laughed in unison, her hug sending us both onto Sheila’s pomegranate-colored Oriental rug, the one she ordered from the Front Door catalog at half price.
    She buried her chubby face into my hair, and I breathed her in. “How’s my girl?”
    “Ggrrreat!”
    Sheila’s agitated voice cut through our giggles. “Brenna, get off that floor. Go wash your hands again now.”
    Brenna scampered off and Sheila passed by with a platter of fish. She muttered into my ear. “You should know better.”
    I rose, smiled, shrugged, and glanced at the rest of the family. “Hey, everybody.”
    A spattering of hellos filled the air like an out of sync choir. My mother smooched my cheek and my father raised his glass in my direction. My brother Jim gave me a straight-mouthed smile, much like the one he might give my never-present nephew Kirk when he asked for the car keys one too many times, and his wife Nancy tossed me a parade wave, before glancing away.
    Greta, my brother Bobby’s wife, gestured to me with graceful fingers, while her other hand lay quite motherly across her burgeoning belly. As the second course made its way around the table, Bobby rose to greet me. Laughter lit his eyes as he found my ear. “Can’t wait to hear what you’re up to now.”
    I stuck out my tongue, surreptitiously of course, the way I learned to do when we were kids. With just seventeen months between us, we learned to say much without many words.
    “Pass the potatoes, please.” Blake, my five-year-old nephew was seated next to me. He giggled. I laughed back. “What?”
    He raised his chin, showing me his shiny white teeth and impish smile. “That’s a tongue twister—pass the potatoes please!”
    Sheila corrected him with her eyes. “Close your mouth when you’re eating, Blakey.”
    Greta bumped me with her shoulder. “Tell me something to keep my mind off all these contractions I’m having.”
    I sucked in a breath and turned to face her. My eyes roamed from her belly to her eyes. “You’re having contractions already?”
    Greta giggled. “Don’t worry. Little Higglebottom or Mollysue still has time to play in there.”
    She had been teasing us with name ideas