The Penderwicks on Gardam Street Read Online Free

shivering.
    “It’s all right, girls. Not a tragedy. More of a comedy, or perhaps a tragicomedy. Come back in.”
    They filed back into the kitchen, sat down, and thanked Aunt Claire for their gifts. The pineapple upside-down cake sat, ignored, in the middle of the table.
    “You tell them, Claire,” said Mr. Penderwick. “This is your doing.”
    “I explained to you, Martin, it’s
not
my doing,” she said.
    “Tell them,” he said.
    “Well, girls—” She paused, then hurried on. “What would you think of your father beginning to date?”
    There was a shocked silence. Whatever anyone had imagined, it wasn’t this.
    “Dates? You mean, like movies and dinner and romance?” asked Jane finally.
    “Romance! Bah!” said Mr. Penderwick, his glasses falling off altogether and clattering to the floor.
    Aunt Claire picked up the glasses and gave them back to him. “Movies and dinner, yes, but there’s no rush for romance.”
    Again, no one could think of what to say. The only sound was Hound’s snuffling search for crumbs on the floor.
    “I don’t think you’re the type for dating, Daddy,” said Skye after a while. “No offense.”
    “None taken,” he said. “I agree with you.”
    Batty slipped off her chair and onto her father’s lap. “Why would you, Daddy?”
    “Your mother thought it best, honey,” said Aunt Claire.
    “Mommy?” This was Jane, whispering.
    Rosalind was feeling dizzy. The kitchen now seemed too warm and the lights too bright. “No, I don’t believe it,” she said. “There’s been a mistake.”
    “It’s true, Rosy. This was your mother’s idea,” said Mr. Penderwick, looking down at the blue paper he was still holding. “She was afraid I’d be lonely.”
    “But you have us,” said Rosalind.
    “Grown-ups sometimes need the company of other grown-ups,” said Aunt Claire. “No matter how wonderful their children are.”
    “I don’t understand why this is happening now,” said Skye, picking up a fork and stabbing the table. “Is there someone you want to date, Daddy?”
    “No, there is not.” Mr. Penderwick looked like he wouldn’t mind doing some stabbing himself.
    “Your mother believed you girls would be old enough by now that Martin could expand his world a bit, and frankly, I don’t think she was wrong,” said Aunt Claire. “So he and I have agreed upon a plan. Your father will jump into the dating pool, shall we say, and stay there for the next several months. During that time he’ll take out at least four different women.”
    “Four!” Stab, stab, stab, stab went Skye’s fork.
    “If, after that, he wants to go back to being a hermit, at least he will have tried, and I mean seriously tried. No pretending there aren’t any available women in western Massachusetts.” Ignoring her brother’s groan, Aunt Claire soldiered on. “And, since I thought he might have trouble getting started, I called a friend of mine who has an unmarried friend here in Cameron.”
    Rosalind’s dizziness was getting worse—her ears were ringing, and the refrigerator appeared to be tipping to one side.
    “And?” Skye jammed the fork so hard it bent.
    “And thus, tomorrow night I have a blind date with a certain Ms. Muntz,” said Mr. Penderwick. “The die is cast.
Iacta alea est.
”
    Rosalind stood up so abruptly that her chair fell over with a loud clatter. They were all asking her what was wrong, but she couldn’t explain. She only knew that she couldn’t breathe properly and she had to get outside. She stumbled toward the door, pushing away someone’s hands, and heard Aunt Claire saying that they should let her be.
    Yes, let me be, she thought, reaching the door.
    “Rosy!” That was her father.
    Answering him—even looking at him—was impossible. She escaped, slammed the door behind her, and took great, hungry gulps of the night air. Yes, now she could breathe.
    “I’ll walk for a while,” she told herself. “I’ll feel better if I walk.”
    She set off