Free The Summer of Moonlight Secrets by Danette Haworth Page B

for second. “I mean …” She laughs. “Perhaps I am cold!” Leaning her head, she drapes her hair to her side and twists it, wringing out the water. “And wet!”
    â€œI’ll get you a towel!” I dash over to the cabinet and come back with a nice, fluffy towel.
    She wraps it around herself like a cape. Even sopping wet, she could be a model—she’s that pretty. She dabs her face with the towel, then lowers her arm.
    â€œI like it here,” she says.
    â€œMe too,” I reply. “The gazebo and the garden room are tied for my favorite spots.”
    â€œI mean, I like everything here.” Turning to me, she asks, “Have you enjoyed growing up in this place?”
    â€œOh, yeah!” The Meriwether is like my own little town, and I know all the villagers—Clay, Chef, the cooks, the housekeepers. My dad is like the mayor and my mom is the first lady. And don’t forget the privileges. “From my bedroom to the counter at The Meriwether’s ice cream parlor are two hundred and fifty-three steps.” I know this because I’ve had more than one occasion to count them. “I get blueberry pancakes every morning and everyone here knows me.” I give her some tidbits from the tour, not the whole spiel, of course, but just the stuff about the old days. “I love living here,” I say.
    She takes it all in, everything I’ve just described. “It’s quite beautiful,” she says.
    A warmth pours over me and settles into my heart. The Meriwether is part of me; it’s built into my bones. Hearing how she feels about it makes me like her even more.
    As she pulls the towel off her shoulders, I can’t get over how graceful she is. And soaked. “Do you want to go in? You should probably change into something dry.”
    I stand up, thinking she’s going to do the same, but she only watches me. I quickly sit back down again. “Um …”
    The look she gives me is direct and open. I don’t know why, but it scares me a little.
    â€œI don’t have anything dry,” she says.
    I know she’s waiting for me to say something, but her words don’t make sense. My head tilts.
    â€œI have no other clothes.”
    I pull my head back and laugh a little, like I do when I’m nervous. “What?” Is she playing a joke on me? But when I look at her hard, I see she’s dead serious. “But you’re on vacation!”
    Slowly, she shakes her head while staring directly at me. “I’m not on vacation, Allie Jo.” Her eyes gleam in the darkness.
    â€œI ran away.”

25
    Chase

    It was blazing hot when we first got out here. My skin fried under the heat and sweat trickled from my cast. The only relief was the thin clouds that blocked the sun for a few minutes; now clouds fill the whole sky. Still, it’s one of the best days so far—Sophie sits next to me, splashing her feet in the ice-cold water.
    Looking at her makes me nervous. I stare into the water instead. Clouds in the sky are reflected in the water below.
    â€œMan, this is cold,” I say. “I can’t feel my feet anymore.” But I’m still hot.
    Sophie laughs. “I’m freezing.”
    I steal a quick glance at her and see goose bumps on her arms. It’s funny how you can be cold and hot at the same time.
    A tall, grayish bird flies over the spring and settles in the cattails. He walks like a flamingo.
    â€œAre you and your dad having a good vacation?” Sophie asks. She draws her feet up from the water and shivers. I picture myself wrapping my arms around her just to keep her warm.
    Every night, Dad hunches over his typewriter, his notes strewn all over the desk. But then again, he has to work. He brought me here with him, and right now, at this very moment, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. “Definitely,” I say, staring straight at her because I can’t help it.