The Body in the Snowdrift Read Online Free

Welcome to the Water Planet, a huge canvas filled with exploding images of celestial and aquatic images, dominated by a sensual water lily.
    â€œI’m so glad I came. I almost didn’t. Arranging to get away, even packing, seemed like such a big deal.” Faith gave her sister an impulsive hug. “Now that I’m here, I feel as if I’ve been gone for weeks. The city does that. Something about being anonymous. Nobody I’ve passed today cares that my daughter’s teacher has suggested extra time tying bows on the practice shoe or that my fourth-grade son is a teen wanna-be.”
    â€œAnd that would be a bad thing because…” It sounded to Hope like what she had wanted at that age—a time-saving device.
    â€œBecause he’s still a little boy and kids are pressed to grow up too fast.” Reading her sister’s expression correctly, Faith added, “It’s not like what you did. Yes, you followed the market, but you used your crayons to take notes and make those charts.”
    â€œI loved those crayons. Remember, Aunt Chat gaveme a huge box? Fifty, a hundred? How many were there? And all those names—burnt sienna, goldenrod, spring green, maize. When the company celebrated their hundredth anniversary in 2003, for some bizarre reason they let people vote four colors out and new ones in. Teal blue, my favorite, is apparently wild blue yonder now. So much for preserving our past. I should pick up a box for Terry before carnation pink disappears. I know, I know,” she added. “Finger paints first.”
    â€œWith chocolate pudding,” Faith said, noting that her sister didn’t spend all her time on financial Web sites. Obviously, the Binney and Smith one was bookmarked.
    â€œChocolate pudding, what an idea! Ooooh, I get it.” Hope dissolved into laughter and the Sibley girls half-ran, half-walked down the spiraling museum and spilled onto the sidewalk, where they each consumed a Sabrett’s hot dog with everything before going their separate ways. Faith was having dinner with their parents, and Hope was going to clock in a few more hours at work.
    Â 
    â€œBut, darling, we can easily eat here. I have a nice piece of fish and some salad. I’m sorry your father was called away. Poor Mrs. Hammond. I’m afraid she really is dying this time.”
    Mrs. Hammond had teetered on the brink, only to claw her way back so many times in the last few years that it had become a private joke between Hope and Faith. And the deathbed calls always seemed to come just when the Reverend Sibley was about to go out to dinner or the opera, his only indulgence, so far as hisdaughters could determine. Mrs. Hammond had second sight—or the Met’s schedule close at hand.
    â€œI’ve already booked a table for us at Vivolo. You know how much you like their veal, and we can get them to pack something up for Dad.”
    Jane Sibley’s idea of dinner, especially since her daughters had left home, was a nice piece of fish and a salad or a nice piece of chicken and a salad. She regarded her eldest’s career with astonishment, finding it as exotic—and difficult—as, say, mapping the genome.
    In the end, they left the nice piece of fish for another meal and had nice pieces of veal at Vivolo, essentially her parents’ Upper East Side nabe. Faith found herself face-to-face over coffee with another nearest and dearest for the second time that day. It was mother and espresso instead of sister and espresso, but it was the same relaxed feeling. She nibbled a biscotti and realized that she hadn’t thought of those other nearests and dearests up in Massachusetts for several hours. Then Jane spoke.
    â€œYou know when you marry, you don’t simply marry an individual, but a family.”
    Hope had been blabbing, obviously.
    â€œOh Mother, I know that. This is about the Vermont trip, right? Well, I’m going with a smile on my face and