Summer Breeze Read Online Free Page B

house, several teenagers played volleyball, jumping, yelling, snorting with laughter. At the other tables, families gathered with other families, and Grace and John Horton strolled among the guests, saying hello and asking if they had everything they needed. Grace would never be anyone Natalie would choose as a close friend. She was at least ten years older, and in her ironedwhite shorts and shirt and gold earrings shaped like anchors, there was something a bit prissy about her. Natalie was certain Grace would find Natalie’s artistic dreams too bohemian. But this seemed to be Grace’s talent—to hold large, casual gatherings where neighbors got together to enjoy life.
    At Natalie’s table, the group broke off into separate islands of conversation. It amused Natalie to see how animated Ben was as he argued with Morgan about the Environmental Protection Agency’s attempt to bring all universities and colleges into compliance with the current hazardous waste management laws. Odd how Morgan, who’d seemed rather stiff, even aloof, when she first arrived, was vivacious now. Who knew what a few sweet words about waste management could do for a girl?
    At her left sat Josh O’Keefe, leaning forward rather aggressively in his chair, pounding the side of one hand into the palm of the other like some revolutionary Russian, clearly trying to convince Aaron of something about Bio-Green. Natalie tuned in; was Josh actually trying to get Aaron to invest in Bio-Green? It sounded like it. Not the most charming way to converse at a cookout.
    “Josh?” Bella asked sweetly, rising. “Would you help me clear the table?”
    Josh said, “Of course,” and stood up to help. Instantly he reverted to the man Natalie had met on the deck: low-key, good-humored, easygoing.
    Natalie leaned back in her chair for a moment, letting the talk all around her fade into the background while she lost herself in pleasure at the sight of the water shining as if glazed with gold by the setting sun. She wouldn’t allow herself to gawk constantly at Ben, but she was aware of him all during the evening, as if he were a song drifting through the air, or light from the rising moon.
    When the party ended, Josh carried Petey home, the child’s head lolling on his shoulder, rather than risk waking the boy by placing him in the stroller. Back at their house, he carefully laid his son in his crib.
    “I’ll take off his clothes and tuck him in,” Morgan whispered.
    Josh nodded and left the room. As Morgan undid the snaps of his OshKosh overalls and slid them off his chubby body, Petey shifted in his sleep but didn’t wake. She checked his diaper—still dry; she’d just changed it at the Hortons’ house. He’d be comfortable enough in his tiny white tee shirt, even if a few grains of sand were sifting off his clothes. Her child lay flat on his back, arms and legs spread, as if he were effortlessly falling through his sleep. His lips opened slightly as he puffed his sweet breath into the air. The sight of his innocent face made Morgan feel peaceful in every vein and bone. She etched his face on her brain for the inevitable days to come when he would turn into Hyperactive Tantrum-Throwing Monster Boy.
    In their bedroom, she pushed the button (how swank was that!) and the blinds buzzed shut across the wall of windows facing the lake. She undressed, hung up her clothes, pulled on one of Josh’s long-sleeved tee shirts she’d appropriated for her own use as a nightshirt.
    She was tired. These days it seemed she was always tired, which was weird, because Petey at twelve months slept through most nights. She got comfortable in bed, plumped up her pillows, and waited for Josh to come back upstairs. Now was the sweet time, chatting lazily with him about the evening and the people they’d met. As tired as she was, she wouldn’t mind making love tonight. It had been a while.
    Josh didn’t come up. She went out into the hall and leaned over the railing.