Читать книгу Another Song For Me - Jean Castaing - Страница 10

In less than a minute we were on our bikes and about ten minutes later we skidded into my driveway, neck and neck. It had started to rain pretty hard and water was dripping from my nose. I hopped off my bike and poked Quinn in the side. “Thought you’d beat me, didn’t you?”

“Aw, come on. I was just gliding. Anyway, since I didn’t know where you lived it would have been pretty hard to take the lead.”

He brushed at the watery droplets on my nose. My legs turned to mush. I ran my jacket sleeve across my forehead. “Let’s go in.”

He followed me into the entry, his head turning every which way. “Geeze. This is like a palace. Have you always lived here?”

“No. We moved from California last summer. So, I’m a new kid on the block, too. Except, my grandma and grandpa have always lived here. It’s where my mom grew up.”

“What brought you back?”

“The story goes, that my dad’s best friend, who was chief of staff at River View Hospital, volunteered to serve as a doctor in Iraq. He asked Dad to take his position here. But I know there’s more to it than that.”

I slipped my backpack off my shoulder then hung my jacket on the clothes tree next to the door. Anna, our housekeeper, came out of the kitchen holding an arm full of laundry. She looked Quinn up and down. “My goodness, my goodness.” She tilted her head. “You pick out nice friends, Maddie.”

“Quinn, this is Anna. She keeps me in line when Mom’s away at school. The rest of the time she works at Grandpa’s and tries to help Grandma keep him in line.”

Anna shifted the laundry, which nearly hid her. “Grandpa’s a full time job.” She laughed, and then went upstairs.

Quinn looked over my shoulder and pointed to the grand piano in the corner of the living room. “You play?”

I shrugged. “A little bit.” I picked up my backpack. “Let’s hang out in the kitchen. That’s where the goodies are.”

Quinn didn’t move. His gaze was fixed on the living room. He looked entranced as the rain splashed against the windows and flames danced around the logs in the fireplace. “I’ve never been in a house like this,” he said. “You’d die if you saw our place. Most of it would fit in your entry.”

“Our home in California was pretty small, too. But Mom insisted that if she had to move back to Tennessee and teach here instead of UCLA, she deserved a house that would make the change worth it. I think what she really loves is the river that runs behind the house. At least that’s one thing we have in common.”

Quinn walked over to the piano and studied the large photograph in a silver frame. “I’ll bet this is your mom when she was your age. She looks a lot like you. It’s her smile.” Quinn placed a hand on his chest and grinned. “I’m a smile man.”

I felt my face get hot. Oh, geeze. First he thinks I’m cool and now he likes my smile.

“That’s my sister, Megan. She was the greatest.”

I looked away and wondered if it would ever get easier to say it. “She died in an automobile accident five years ago. She was sixteen.”

Quinn cleared his throat. “I … I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. How would you know?” Anxious to change the subject, I said, “we better start working on your application.”

Quinn followed me to the kitchen, set his backpack on the table and pulled out the papers. Once I told him the kinds of things they wanted to hear, he completed it in a flash. “Done deal,” he said. “I met Silver at lunch and told him you had someone really interesting that I could interview since I don’t know anyone.”

“Do I ever. My grandpa.”

“Your grandpa?” Quinn jumped up. “Please don’t tell me he’s some cigar smoking millionaire.”

“Hardly.” I laughed. “He’s a retired engineer who really wanted to be a meteorologist but thought they didn’t make enough money. So now he’s an addicted TV storm chaser and fisherman. Wait till you meet him.”