No Place Like Home Read Online Free

reception room. “How did it go?” Georgette asked, her anxiety apparent in the tone of her voice.
    â€œI would say that Mrs. Nolan put up a very good act of seeming to be delighted by her husband’s birthday surprise,” Paley answered. “I believe she convinced him. However, she did not convince me.”
    â€œWhy not?” Robin asked before Georgette could frame the words.
    Henry Paley’s expression was that of a man who had completed a mission he knew was doomed to failure. “I wish I could tell you,” he said. “It may just be that she was overwhelmed.” He looked at Georgette, obviously afraid that he might be giving the impression that he had somehow let her down. “Georgette,” he said apologetically, “I swear, when I was showing Mrs. Nolan the master suite, all I could visualize was that kid shooting her mother and stepfather in the sitting room years ago. Isn’t that weird?”
    â€œHenry, this agency has sold that house three times in the last twenty-four years, and you were involved in at least two of those sales. I never heard you say that before,” Georgette protested angrily.
    â€œI never got that feeling before. Maybe it’s because of all those damn flowers the husband ordered. It’s the same scent that hits you in funeral homes. I got it full force in the master suite of Little Lizzie’s Place today. And I have a feeling that Celia Nolan had a reaction like that, too.”
    Henry realized that unwittingly he had used the forbidden words in describing the house on Old Mill Lane. “Sorry, Georgette,” he mumbled as he brushed past her.
    â€œYou should be,” Georgette said bitterly. “I can just imagine the kind of vibes you were sending out to Mrs. Nolan.”
    â€œMaybe you’ll take me up after all on my offer to back you up on what you told Alex Nolan about the house, Georgette,” Robin suggested, a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

3

    â€œB ut, Ceil, it’s what we were planning to do. We’re just doing it a little faster. It makes sense for Jack to start pre-K in Mendham. We’ve been cramped for these six months in your apartment, and you didn’t want to move downtown to mine.”
    It was the day after my birthday, the day following the big surprise. We were having breakfast in my apartment, the one that six years ago I had been hired to decorate for Larry, who became my first husband. Jack had rushed through a glass of juice and a bowl of cornflakes, and hopefully was now getting dressed for day camp.
    I don’t think I had closed my eyes all night. Instead I lay in bed, my shoulder brushing against Alex, staring into the dark, remembering, always remembering. Now wrapped in a blue and white linen robe, and with my hair twisted into a bun, I was trying to appear calm and collected as I sipped my coffee. Across the table, impeccably dressed as always in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and figured blue and red tie, Alex was rushingthrough the slice of toast and mug of coffee that was his everyday breakfast.
    My suggestion that, while the house was beautiful, I would want to be able to completely redecorate it before we moved in had met with resistance from Alex. “Ceil, I know it was probably insanity to buy the house without consulting you, but it was exactly the kind of place we both had in mind. You had agreed to the area. We talked about Peapack or Basking Ridge, and Mendham is only minutes from both of them. It’s an upscale town, convenient to New York, and, besides the fact the firm is moving me to New Jersey, the added plus is that I can get in some early morning rides. Central Park just doesn’t do it for me. And I want to teach you how to ride. You said you’d enjoy taking lessons.”
    I studied my husband. His expression was both contrite and pleading. He was right. This apartment really was too small for the three of us. Alex had given up so much