Dream House Read Online Free

manipulative. Gina had always been reluctant to share achievements with her. Now she wondered: how could a mother feel competitive with her children? She’d always hoped that Esther and Ben would surpass her in feeling fulfilled in life.
    â€œNot to mention,” Cassie said with a snicker, “she hated that boys liked us.”
    A foghorn blew. “Nubble Light, five o’clock,” Cassie said. “Time to drink.”
    She went into the kitchen and called, “Damn! I wanted to pick up some wine.” Gina heard the jangle of bottle openers that hung on thedoor of the tiny liquor cabinet in the bottom of what had once been the water heater closet. “Vodka, gin, scotch, and vermouth. How about a martini?”
    â€œSounds good,” Gina answered, though she didn’t like martinis. She was beginning to feel as if her older sister was the host and keynote speaker of a days-long event at which Gina was a guest.
    Gina stood and shifted to the living room window that framed the cove and harbor. The window! She’d forgotten, during these brooding, interior days, the escape it offered. Their mother had dreamed of replacing the one double-hung sash with glass doors. But Gina had always thought the narrow window made the experience of viewing the waterscape more intimate and poignant because, when standing at it, there was only room for one. The tide was high, and in the late afternoon light, the cove was a gloomy gray. Trees on the shoreline hadn’t yet leafed out, but already someone was sailing a small boat from the harbor. Gina wished she were that sailor, but she was lost on a sea of boxes in a house that seemed far from home.
    With Cassie still distracted in the kitchen, she decided to take her phone into the piano room to sneak in a call to Paul.
    â€œI have a call to make before my next appointment, so I can’t really talk,” Paul said, when she reached him. “We’re all fine. Esther’s quiet but seems engaged with school again. Check in later if you want to talk to her. You okay?”
    Gina reported that she was and said goodbye, missing her kids even more than before the call.
    In the kitchen, Cassie gave Gina’s arm a playful pinch. “You’re such a helicopter mom! You have to stop this before your kids are teenagers. All the attention you give them might backfire.”
    Cassie had hit a nerve—Paul, too, often accused her of hovering over the kids. “Do you eavesdrop on your kids, too?” she said, regrettingthat she’d taken Cassie’s bait. She opened the refrigerator and looked at the date on a bottle of green olives. “The olives expired a year and a half ago.”
    â€œOlives never go bad,” Cassie said.
    Gina chose to believe her about the olives. But while Cassie finished making the martinis, she plucked old jars of mayonnaise, mustard, jelly, pickles, ketchup, marmalade, salad dressing, chutney, and capers out of the refrigerator door and set them in the sink. “Do we have to recycle all these, or are we exempt, under the circumstances?”
    â€œSave the skunks,” Cassie said, pointing to the garbage can.
    She handed Gina the martini and they returned to the living room where Cassie took stock. “Well? There are the portraits and the Civil War weapons, books, and some good silver here that would be more valuable melted down. Not all that much.”
    Silently, they continued sorting through boxes; for Gina, the martini created a pleasant haze between her and their situation.
    When the landline rang, it startled them both. Cassie jumped up to get it.
    â€œAnnie!” she said into the phone, “Yes, we’re buried. Okay, sure, thank you—we’d love to. See you soon.”
    â€œI thought you didn’t want to go to Lily House,” Gina said, thinking, I certainly don’t.
    Cassie slugged the last of her drink. “I’ve had a martini. Things look