Wish I Might Read Online Free Page B

around the border of the tray. As hectic and hot as the kitchen is this time of day, Sam is cool as a cucumber, peaceful.
    I take a deep breath and let it out. When I’m around Sam, I feel calmer. I want to tell Sam about the British boy and the mermaid and JFK leaving, but there isn’t time. “Good,” I say. “Thanks, Dad. How was yours?”
    It stills feels awkward to say “Dad” — it’s only been since Father’s Day, but Sam truly feels like the father I never had, and so I wanted to give him that honor, calling him “Dad.” Sam said it was the nicest gift anyone ever gave him.
    “Perfect,” Sam says. “Got some gardening in, planted some more butternut squash and pumpkins, scoped out plans for a new trail down by the lake. Had a nice lunch with your mother. Perfect day.”
    “That’s nice, Dad. I’m glad.” I reach for a handful of flowered cocktail napkins and head to the porch with the platter of crab cakes.
    Mother is pouring a guest a glass of wine at the bar. She’s wearing a striking orange dress. I’m sure there’s a fancier name than
orange
for that color—
tangerine
or
sunset
or
desert sands
or something. Tina and Ruby, the fashion experts, would know. With her sleek, jetblack hair swept up in a twist and a simple strand ofpearls, my mother is stunning, the prettiest woman in sight.
    The guest says something to her, and my mother laughs as if this is the most delightful story she’s heard all day.
    “Crab cake?” I say to Mr. Pradia, a rich banker from Texas and a friend of the Blazers who is smiling across the porch at Mother. He can’t seem to peel his eyes from her.
    “Yes, please, princess. Thank you.” Mr. Pradia takes two cakes without looking at me. Pops one into his mouth. “Hmm, hmm, hmm.”
    I smile.
Princess.
He calls every woman “princess,” young or old, it doesn’t matter. Rosie says, “That man’s a royal flirt.” I laugh. He seems harmless enough. And I don’t have to worry about men flirting with my mother. She and Sam are crazy in love. I wonder … was Mother just as crazy in love with Billy Havisham? I shrug it off and move along with the tray. Sam’s crab cakes are a hit.
    When my shift is over, I make a quick tuna sandwich for dinner, change into shorts and sneakers, and bike back out to the beach.
    It’s just about seven. Time to hear Will Havisham’s story.

CHAPTER 6
Tina and Ruby’s Beach Treasure
    I do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
    — Sir Isaac Newton
    A sprawling crowd is gathered on the bluff now, two police cars complete with searchlights, television cameras, and newspaper photographers. Two boys in Red Sox caps have set up a lemonade stand, smart Cape Cod entrepreneurs.
    I look out at the water, nothing but waves, a black duck, some seagulls, the usual. I scan the faces in the crowd. There’s JFK’s mother, Mrs. Kennelly. I walk over to join her.
    “Oh, hi, Willa. Good to see you,” she says. “Joseph told me about the mermaid fuss on the beach, and I thought I’d come check it out.”
    “Did his plane take off okay?” I ask.
    “Yes. He just texted me. He’s already safe and sound in Florida. He says it’s stifling hot.” She laughs. “But I’m sure he’ll have a wonderful time.”
    “I’m sure he will,” I say. I feel a pang of jealousy. Why didn’t JFK text me? I look down at the ink-blue water.
    The waves are calmer now, the tide is out, all the sand castles, beach chairs, and umbrellas gone, the curtain closing on another summer day. Where’s Will Havisham? Where’s my dog? Will’s boat is gone. I look up and down the beach. Nothing. My stomach feels queasy. Maybe JFK was right. Something’s fishy. I told Will to meet me here at seven o’clock. It will be starting to