Free Prospect Street by Emilie Richards Page A

a tough position, David. I imagine they believe everything you told them all those years.”
    David wondered how he had ever thought he had the right to tell anyone else how to live.

6
    H ating David would have been simplest, but the next morning, when Faith began to pack the Accord with cleaning supplies, gratitude was higher on the list. Despite what she’d said about saving on gas and insurance, having the Accord was going to make her life and the children’s twice as easy.
    â€œI don’t see why I have to go.” Remy, in modest shorts and a T-shirt of the same blue-gray as her eyes, had been repeating the same sentence from the moment she’d discovered she was going to spend the day in Georgetown.
    Faith was already tired, and the day had barely started. “When did I tell you that whining was a good way to get what you want?”
    â€œI don’t want to go there. I hate it!”
    Faith lifted a box of clean rags into the trunk. “You’ll hate it less when it’s clean.”
    Remy moved directly in front of her mother, just in case Faith hadn’t gotten the point. “I’ll never hate it less. I’ll just hate you for making me live there.”
    Faith snapped to attention. “Listen carefully, Remy. You’re entitled to your feelings. I want you to be aware of them. I really do. But you won’t take them out on me.”
    â€œYou don’t care how I feel.”
    â€œYou’re going to have to face facts. This is our best shot, and we’re taking it. Now go inside and get Alex. We’re leaving.”
    Remy didn’t have to go inside. Alex came flying out of the house. “Can I sit up front?”
    â€œ I don’t want to, that’s for sure.” Remy slid into the back seat and slammed the door hard enough to rock the car.
    Alex took advantage of his sister’s bad temper and chatted all the way into D.C. Faith realized how rare it was for Alex to be the child who was “in tune.” He seemed thrilled by the possibilities.
    â€œDo you think there’ll be any kids in the neighborhood?” He unlocked, then relocked, his door for the fifteenth time in as many minutes.
    Faith crossed Key Bridge and turned uphill onto a side street that would take her to the house. “Just plenty of college kids, and maybe some politicians—who’ll be too immature for you. But we’ll have plenty of room for your friends to visit.”
    â€œLike anybody would want to come,” Remy said.
    Faith searched for parking. “Even though you don’t want to live here, Georgetown’s a major attraction. The shopping and restaurants are fabulous.”
    â€œYou can stop making it sound like fun.”
    Since the tour guide routine wasn’t working, Faith got down to business. “One of the things you have to do today is figure out which bedrooms you want. I’m taking the one at the front, so I can keep an eye on things. The other two are the same size. If you can’t decide, we’ll flip a coin.”
    â€œI want the attic,” Alex reminded her.
    â€œWe’ll check it out.”
    In the rearview mirror Faith watched Remy roll her eyes. Scenes from The Exorcist had been filmed on Prospect Street. Faith wondered if there was a convenient priest who could rid her daughter of the bad spirits that seemed to have taken over her slender body.
    They parked two blocks away, and Faith made a mentalnote to get a residential parking permit. She unlocked the trunk and began to remove the boxes of cleaning supplies, handing one to Alex and another to a reluctant Remy.
    â€œThis isn’t going to be fun,” she admitted, as they trudged toward the house. “We’re just going to get the worst of it today. There’s a crew coming in to refinish the floors next week. They’ll be finished just in time for us to clean up again and move in.” Somewhere Lydia had found the money for the