Blushing Pink Read Online Free Page A

toxins." Reese cocked her head, and her mother qualified, "I'm making some for myself, too. I thought you'd like to join me, that's all."
    Reese grinned. "Okay, actually that sounds good. I'll go say hi to Dad and meet you back here in five minutes." Joanna pushed off her quilt, and both of them headed up the three steps to the kitchen, which was separated only by a stone half wall and a hanging plant.
    Joanna went to fill her kettle, while Reese continued around the bend and down the front hall. "Honey!" she heard her mother's voice call out.
    "Yeah?" When she turned back, she saw her mother standing in the open archway of the kitchen, with her soft, round body and haphazard golden hair that looked vaguely familiar.
    "I'm just so glad you're home," she said, smiling.
    * * *
    Reese found her dad at his large oak desk, paying bills, smoking a pipe that smelled of pinewood and dried cherries. "Hi!" he greeted enthusiastically when he saw her crossing the thick navy carpet.
    "Hey, Dad, how are you?" She met him halfway for a hug.
    "Oh, I'm fine. Just paying the bills." She'd been hearing that refrain for twenty-seven years, so she'd already guessed that. In fact, she was well aware that virtually all Michael Brock did was pay bills, and virtually all Joanna Brock did was "sacrifice and slave." It was all very much common knowledge in the household.
    She did a double take when she spotted Poor Richard's Almanac on the corner of her father's desk. "Oh, no, Dad." She grimaced. "Not again."
    "What?"
    "You're not back on that Ben Franklin kick, are you?" She motioned to the book with her hand, and sank into an adjacent high-backed chair.
    "Oh, that," he said calmly. "It's not a kick. I was just looking through some of my books, and I rediscovered this one. I think it has some timeless insights, that's all."
    "Mmm-hmm." It was hard not to be skeptical; the last time her father had reread Poor Richard's Almanac, he'd gone around quoting truisms like there was no tomorrow. She could only hope he'd learned to internalize his love for the book this time around.
    "So how is your doctoral work coming?" Michael asked with interest in his voice, and what Reese recognized immediately as pride. Her gut churned. Damn it, why did that Ph.D. have to mean so much to her parents? And why did it suddenly have to mean so little to her ? "Is your thesis coming along?" he asked.
    "Yep," she said cheerfully, lying through her gritted teeth.
    He nodded. "I'm glad. You know, your mother and I are so proud of you."
    She swallowed and forced a smile. "I know, Dad."
    "I've always regretted not finishing my master's degree," he went on, stroking the bowl of his pipe and looking up at the ceiling. "But your mother was pregnant with Angela, and other things took precedence. I wouldn't have had it any other way, of course. But still, it means so much to her and I that you've accomplished what we never could, and more."
    Reese shrank guiltily in her seat. Could her parents just rip her heart out and stick it in the waffle iron?
    "But enough of my musing," Michael said. "Now tell me, how's that professor you work for?"
    Hmm... "Stalinesque" might be too academic, but "fat and ugly" seemed like a low blow. "He's okay, I guess," Reese said on a sigh. Really, she wasn't looking to complain, but sometimes just thinking about Professor Kimble could give her anxiety. The man was such a textbook washed-up hack with a diva complex, it bordered on ridiculous. Apparently he'd peaked with his first (and only) book the year he'd gotten tenure, and now, twelve years later, he was still desperately trying to achieve another academic publication before he officially became the laughingstock of the elitist, backstabbing history department.
    This was Reese's third semester working for him, and she'd probably have a couple more to go, so she was trying to make the best of it. Next year she'd be ABD—or All but Dissertation—which meant she'd have completed her own course work and