Plain Truth Read Online Free

Plain Truth
Book: Plain Truth Read Online Free
Author: Jodi Picoult
Tags: FIC000000, book
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mean, Ellie, that really hurt.” “What?”
    â€œWhat you just said. God—you called me a fucking troll!” I met his gaze. “I said you were out of control .” Stephen blinked, then started to laugh. “Out of control—oh, God! I didn't hear you.”
    When was the last time you did? I thought, but managed to curb the words before I spoke them.
    The law offices of Pfister, Crown and DuPres were located in downtown Philadelphia, sprawled across three floors of a modern glass-and-steel skyscraper. I spent hours dressing for my appointment with the partners, discarding four suits before I found the one that I believed made me look most confident. I used extra antiperspirant. I drank a cup of decaf, afraid that the real stuff would make my hands tremble. I mentally plotted the route to the building in my mind, and left nearly an hour for travel time, although it was only fifteen miles away.
    At exactly eleven o'clock I slid behind the wheel of my Honda. “Senior partner,” I murmured into the rearview mirror. “And anything less than $300,000 a year is unacceptable.” Sliding my sunglasses on, I headed for the highway.
    Stephen had left a tape in my car, a mix of what he liked to call his “kick-ass” music, which he listened to when he was en route to litigations. With a small smile, I pushed it in to play, letting the drums and the backbeat thrum through the car. I turned it up loud, so loud that when I changed lanes precipitously, I could barely hear the angry horn of the pickup I'd cut off.
    â€œOops,” I murmured, flexing my hands on the steering wheel. Almost immediately, it jumped beneath my touch. I gripped it harder, but that only seemed to make the car buck like a mustang. A clear stream of fear pooled from my throat to my stomach, the quick panic that comes when you realize something has gone terribly wrong, something that it is simply too late to fix. In my rearview mirror I saw the truck looming closer, honking furiously, as my car gave a great shudder and stopped dead in the middle of sixty-mile-per-hour traffic.
    I closed my eyes, bracing for a crash that never came.
    I was still trembling thirty minutes later as I stood beside Bob, the namesake of Bob's Auto Service, while he tried to explain what had happened to my car. “Basically, it melted,” he said, wiping his hands on his coveralls. “The oil pan cracked, the engine seized, and the internal parts glommed together.”
    â€œGlommed together,” I repeated slowly. “So how do you separate them?”
    â€œYou don't. You buy a new engine. You're talking five or six thousand.”
    â€œFive or six—” The mechanic started to walk away from me. “Hey! What am I supposed to do until then?”
    Bob glanced at my suit, my briefcase, my heels. “Get a pair of Reeboks.”
    A telephone began to ring. “Shouldn't you get that?” the mechanic asked, and I realized the sound was coming from the depths of my own briefcase. I groaned at the recollection of my appointment at the law office. I was already fifteen minutes late.
    â€œWhere the hell are you?” Stephen barked when I answered the phone.
    â€œMy car died. On the middle of the highway. In front of an oncoming truck.”
    â€œFor Christ's sake, Ellie, that's why there are taxis!”
    I was shocked silent. No “My God, are you all right?” No “Do you need me to come help you?” I watched Bob shake his head over the twisted intestines of what used to be my engine and felt a strange peace settle over me. “I'm not going to be able to make it today,” I said.
    Stephen let out a deep sigh. “Well, I suppose I could convince John and Stanley to reschedule. Let me call you right back.”
    The line went dead in my hand. Absentmindedly I clicked it off, and then stepped up to my car again. “The good news,” Bob said, “is that after you replace
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