What a Girl Wants Read Online Free Page B

you?”
    “Grow up.” I put my hand over my mouth and pretend to yawn. “Oh, I forgot, you did grow up. It’s just not that obvious because you’re, like, living with your mama!”
    “Ashley Wilkes Stockingdale, you be nice to your brother.” My mother comes out of the kitchen carrying what looks like a side of beef, ringed with potatoes. She’s wearing her homemade apron and reminding me that marital bliss is definitely not all I dream it will be. Mom kisses my cheek. “Happy birthday, dear.”
    Dad is watching football in the family room, too immersed to bother saying hello or even acknowledge his firstborn’s birthday. My brother sits down in front of the pot roast and stretches his arms behind him. “I’m starving,” he says.
    “You just wait, Dave. Your father will come in on commercial and pray for us.”
    Prayer. That is just what this family needs. So we wait. My brother can hardly resist the temptation of razzing me, and he preys like a crouched lion until the opportunity presents itself. My mother walks into the kitchen to get the rest of my birthday feast—which will no doubt include strawberry angel food cake, my favorite since kindergarten.
    “Hey, maybe this is the year you’ll find some sucker—I mean, guy —to marry you.”
    I don’t say what I want to say. I give my Christianity credit for that. “Do you really think I need some man to rescue me?” I ball my fists under my chin. “I guess my brand new Audi TT convertible and my apartment in Palo Alto are really hard to deal with—my life is a trial, an utter trial! I guess you’re right, Dave, I do hope a man will rescue me soon.” I add a wistful sigh for effect. “But when is someone coming to rescue you?”
    As ever, my mother comes out at the worst possible time. “Ashley, it’s not becoming to hurt your brother that way.” My mother has never caught Dave saying a word against anyone. “Ashley wouldn’t talk that way about another.”
    Ashley is Ashley Wilkes of Gone with the Wind and my name-sake. Why my mother thought to name me after the mealy-mouthed male character, rather than Rhett or Scarlett, is a Big Question. But it does explain her undying devotion to Dave who possesses Ashley’s useless ways in spades. I suppose too much spark is dangerous in a person, and my mother, Mary Stockingdale, never could handle conflict. I should count my blessings I won’t be asked to marry one of my cousins. Wilkes always do, you know.
    “Hey Mom, you know the rents are coming down lately.” I look at my brother, and the corner of my lip lifts ever so slightly. Dave’s eyes thin as if to make his dark threat known. “Dave might go ahead and look for his own place soon.”
    “Now Ashley, you know your brother is in the service industry. He’s just never going to make the kind of money a patent attorney does because he helps people.” She pats my shoulder as she places Jell-O salad on the table. The service industry. Like cutting off a Mercedes for the sheer joy of it is service-oriented.
    Dave gives a sardonic smile. “Some of us were out living life while others wasted all those beautiful summer days in a classroom.”
    “Classroom?” I ask dryly. “You make law school sound like elementary school. But then that’s all you’ve known, right?”
    “Hey. I went to the school of reality. I can explain my job.”
    “David,” my mother says. “Your sister worked hard for her job. You should be proud of her.” I barely conceal my shock that she’s standing up for me. Her reproach makes Dave take pause, at least. “Hank!” My mother yells to my father. “Come pray so we can eat!”
    “It’s in overtime! Start without me,” he shouts back. Praying is not exactly my dad’s specialty. I’m appreciative they put forth an effort when I’m over, but the last time my father graced a church with his presence was when he married my mother. His prayers are usually those rhyming numbers that sound like an Irish