Free Time Windows by Kathryn Reiss Page B

tomatoes."
    Miranda's eyes widened. Tomatoes were her very favorite vegetable. Helen had, in fact, bought extra tomato plants for the garden just to satisfy Miranda. If Helen had said Miranda didn't like chocolate cake or flute music, Miranda could not have been more surprised. "Mither," she said softly. "I've always
loved
tomatoes. Spaghetti with your homemade Bolognese sauce is my favorite dinner." She turned to Philip. "Right, Dad?"
    He nodded.
    There was another long silence in the kitchen. Miranda looked at her mother's stony face and her father's clouded one. She wasn't sure what made her say what she said next: "Dad, do you think old houses keep the personalities of people who once lived in them?"
    "Like ghosts, you mean?" asked Nicole.
    "No, not exactly. I mean, do you think an old house can have a special atmosphere?"
    Philip smiled slightly. "I suppose so, Mandy, but I don't know how the house would get the atmosphere in the first place. I mean, through the years so many people live in a single house before it falls to pieces—you couldn't have impressions left of all of them ... or could you? I don't know."
    "Well, have you noticed that our house has an atmosphere?" Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Helen had grown quite pale.
    "What kind of atmosphere?" asked Philip, becoming interested.
    "Well, a weird atmosphere. Like Aunt Belle said." Then she remembered her father had not heard Aunt Belle that morning. "She said it was the house that made her—"
    At that moment Helen threw down the spatula and burst into tears. She ran from the kitchen. They heard her footsteps racing up the stairs. Philip shoved back his chair so forcefully that it knocked into the wall and tottered as if about to fall.
    "You girls wait here," he commanded, hurrying from the room.
    Nicole and Miranda stared at each other. "Want a sandwich?" offered Miranda finally, not knowing what else to say.
    "Sure." Nicole reached for one.
    Then the silence between them stretched into what seemed like minutes, until Nicole broke it with an uncomfortable laugh. "You seem really different, Mandy."
    "Different from what?"
    "From the way you were in New York."
    "New York seems a long time ago."
    "Come on! Less than a month."
    Miranda reached for another sandwich. "How do you mean, then, 'different'?"
    "Well, haven't you met any kids around here? Do you just sit around all the time?"
    "Of course I've met kids. There are two boys just across the street—"
    "Boys! How old?"
    "Oh, one of them is little, around eight. The other is a year older than we are."
    "Is he cute?"
    Miranda tried to remember what Dan Hooton looked like. "I guess so. Uh—sure, he's okay. I don't really know him."
    "Why not? Does he have a girlfriend already?"
    Miranda shook her head. "I don't know. I mean—I haven't seen him much."
    "See? That's what I mean. You are totally changed. I can't believe there is a boy across the street, and you don't have his life story yet! Back in the city—"
    "It's different here."
    "Like I said. And it's not just you. Your parents, too. What's all this about the house and atmosphere and weird stuff?"
    Before Miranda could think of a response, Philip pushed through the swinging door, his arm around Helen's shoulders. Helen smiled sheepishly at the girls.
    "I'm sorry," she said rather tremulously, sitting down at the table and reaching for a sandwich. "I don't know what got into me. Let's just try to forget it, please."

7
    The girls spent the next week exploring the town and surrounding countryside, taking picnics to the fields and wading in streams. The morning after Nicole arrived, Philip had dragged Helen's old bike out of the stable and lowered the seat to fit Nicole. Miranda held her breath when her father walked toward the corner where the cushionless couch was, but he noticed nothing and rolled Miranda's bike out onto the grass. He had to raise the seat; she had grown several inches since she last rode it. Miranda oiled