The Real Allie Newman. Janice Carter

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Philadelphia?”

      “It’s my hometown,” he said. “My father had died and my mom needed looking after.”

      “Is she…?”

      “Yeah, she had a stroke and died about two years later.”

      “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

      “Yep, one of each. Both living in Philly, still in the same old neighborhood. A bit like the kind of people you were talking about. They’re content to stay put with their families.”

      “Whereas you…”

      “I cut my family ties when I was seventeen. Once you’ve done that, you’re really only a visitor afterward.”

      The terse reply didn’t encourage further conversation, so Allie sat silently, looking out the window as they headed east, away from the city and toward the suburbs. She didn’t speak again until the car turned onto a paved road that ran along beside water.

      “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Is that the Detroit River?”

      “No. Lake St. Clair. Grosse Pointe borders the lake.”

      “So we’re getting close?”

      “Not far now. Nervous?”

      “Of course. Shouldn’t I be?”

      “Perhaps.”

      Something in the way he said that single word alarmed her. There was warning in it, she thought. He’d turned his head her way, but his sunglasses foiled any attempt to read his expression. Too late to go back now, she thought. She decided to make light of it.

      “When I was a kid and I was nervous about something—no matter what it was—my father used to say that I could always change my mind.”

      He nodded, his expression blank. “Good advice to remember,” he said, and turned the car into a tree-lined drive fronted by brick columns supporting a massive wrought-iron gate. The gate was open and the Cadillac passed through.

      Allie felt her heart rate pick up. All she could see so far was a stretch of trimmed lawn and groves of trees that stretched farther than the acreage around the farm back home. Rounding a bend in the drive, she suddenly saw the lake again. And then the house.

      She must have gasped, for Joel simply said, “Tudor Revival, they call it. Built in the early thirties for some auto magnate. Six-car garage with Spiro’s specialty cars over there, at the end of the west wing.” His arm stretched across her face to point. “Tennis court just behind a guest house—you can see it now—and the outdoor swimming pool is next to it.”

      “You mean there’s an indoor pool?”

      “Yup. It’s smaller and occupies most of a separate wing.”

      Huge landscaped gardens that Allie knew Susan would love edged the section of drive that wound its way to the entrance of the house. As the Cadillac coasted to a halt in front of granite steps, double French doors at the top terrace swung open and a handful of people spilled out.

      They organized themselves on the steps as if choreographed. As Joel parked the car and switched off the engine, Allie moistened dry lips and glanced at him.

      “All set?” he asked.

      She nodded.

      “You’ll be fine. And remember, you’re here to give them something. Not to justify whatever happened twenty-seven years ago.”

      She was grateful to him for that and, taking a deep breath, opened the car door. When she stepped out onto the paved drive, the group of people parted as if by silent command, giving way for a tall, thin, gray-haired man grasping a cane and walking slowly through them. Allie was thinking that particular moment was more frightening than diving into the Cataraqui after Harry Maguire. Still, pasting a smile on her face, she plunged forward.

      The elderly man descended slowly to the first layer of steps. “Koritsiemou, Allie. My darling granddaughter.”

      Up close, she could see the ravages of his illness. His skin was waxen and taut against prominent facial bones, but his eyes were bright and alert, as yet undiminished by illness. His raspy greeting activated the others and they clustered around Allie. There was a hubbub of talk and some nervous laughter, mainly from Allie, she realized afterward.

      Spiro introduced the others. First, Allie was presented to a slight woman in her fifties with a blend of black and silver hair, who was wearing a simple but expensive-looking black dress.

      “Ephtimea—Effie—is the wife of my late nephew, Anthony, and the mother of my two great-nephews, George and Christo.”

      The woman stepped forward and shyly kissed Allie on both cheeks. “Welcome, my dear.”

      “That’s George—” Spiro gestured to the man at Effie’s left, “—my nephew, Effie’s eldest son.”

      A large-framed man with the darkest eyes Allie had ever seen nodded, but didn’t smile.

      “And his fiancée, Lynn,” Spiro continued.

      The curvaceous blonde that Allie had caught a glimpse of as she’d walked up the steps strode into the center of the group and held out her hand. “Nice to meetcha,” she said before backing up and taking a long draw on the cigarette she held in her other hand.

      Allie saw Spiro frown, his upper lip curling in a grimace that everybody noticed except for Lynn, who was brushing something off the tight bosom of her lime-green sheath dress. Allie sneaked a peek at Spiro again. His downturned mouth tightened.

      He turned to Allie and seemed to force a smile as he said, “Christo, Effie’s youngest,” and the shorter, handsomer man standing off to one side leaped forward. His grin implied that he, too, had enjoyed the little scene. He grasped Allie firmly by both shoulders, planting a solid kiss first on one cheek, then on the other.

      She wondered for a moment if he was going to release her, but eventually he stood back and said, “Wonderful to meet you at last, cuz. We’ve been breathless with excitement, haven’t we, George?” He cocked his head to George who’d been staring intently at Lynn. Christo burst into laughter. “George! You poor lovesick puppy.”

      George smiled weakly at Allie, though he managed to give his brother a playful punch in the shoulder.

      Spiro shook his head. “Boys, boys.” He made a mock clucking sound but obviously enjoyed their antics. “Allie needs more time before she has to face the family in its true light,” he said.

      Christo laughed again. “Sure, Uncle Spiro, but I’m still waiting for that day myself.”

      Spiro wasn’t amused this time. Allie noted the subtle way his chin pulled downward and his gray eyes flashed. Still, he made no response and turned, instead, to introduce the other three people waiting dutifully in the background.

      “Yolanda, my nurse,” Spiro said, gesturing to a stout woman in a lavender uniform. She beamed warmly at Allie, and Allie responded in kind. Then he gestured for a thin, gray-haired woman in black to move forward.

      “This СКАЧАТЬ