Free The Unlikely Romance of Kate Bjorkman by Louise Plummer Page B

Brothers!” We criticized Geraldo’s mannerisms—“He strokes his own chest, he’s so proud of himself”—and laughed while stuffing down pounds of cheese puffs.
    And, of course, those romance novels, which I didn’t
have
to read but did, because I, like a voyeur, really liked those three-paragraph, sweat-inducing kisses.
    3. Ashley knew how to have fun. If it hadn’t been for her, I never would have rented Rollerblades and skated around Lake of the Isles. I never would have spray-painted minor obscenities on the faculty bathroom walls in middle school, the only act of vandalism of my life. I wet my pants, I was so scared. And so thrilled.
    She was like having Pandora for a friend. I was never sure what would come out of her box to entertain or horrify me.
    Last Christmas I found out what was in the bottom of that box.
    * * *
    T RISH WAS AT breakfast Christmas Eve morning, but not Bjorn. He had left the house earlier; no one knew where he’d gone. Divorce lawyer would have been my bet.
    “I’d like to take individual Christmas portraits of everyone over the next couple of days. Would that be okay with you guys?” Trish spoke shyly, self-consciously. Perhaps she was embarrassed about walking out on us the night before. Perhaps she wondered if we had heard them fighting. I wondered what Mother and Dad had said to them.
    “You can take my picture if you’ll be kind with the light,” my father said, handing her a plate of sausages. He held her shoulder. “This is my good side,” he said, tilting his head.
    Trish smiled at him.
    “I hope you’ll take us as a group as well,” Mother said.
    “You want to remember the Christmas of the invaders?” Fleur was stabbing at a sausage.
    “Yes, I do,” Mother said.
    It was past ten o’clock, because we’d all gotten to bed so late. I wasn’t surprised when the back-door bell rang.
    “Hello, Ashley,” I said, sounding like a school principal. My body blocked the doorway. The freezing air raised goose bumps on my skin immediately.
    “Guess what?” she squealed. “I found the diamond earrings! My mother had them hidden in a drawer in the laundry room. They look
gorgeous
on me.”
    “Great,” I mumbled. Ashley had never once been surprised on Christmas day. Manipulators don’t like surprises.
    “Can I come in?” She glanced over my shoulder.
    “We’re in the middle of breakfast,” I said, trying to keep from shivering. I folded my arms for warmth.
    “Are you mad at me?” She seemed truly shocked.
    “Well, yes, as a matter of fact.” I was glad suddenly to be six feet tall, looking down my nose.
    “Because of what I said yesterday? I was just being honest.” She tried to peer over my shoulder.
    “And now I’m being honest. You’re just using me to get to Rich when you know—you
know
”—I lowered my voice—“that I like Rich. I thought you were my friend.” I was shivering hard now, and suddenly I was afraid I would cry. The cold made it worse. Expressing my disappointment out loud made it worse.
    “Kate, close the door, you’re freezing us out in here.” Mother appeared in the doorway. “Hi, Ashley, come in and join us for breakfast.”
    Ashley stepped past me into the back hall. “Thanks, Mrs. Bjorkman. Just coffee would be nice.”
    I closed the door and stood in the hall, hunched over, hugging myself, until I stopped shaking.
    “Hi, you guys. Hi, Rich.” Ashley’s voice grated. The shivering started up again.
    As she’d done yesterday morning, she had taken Mother’s chair next to Richard and was semihuddled against him. “I’m still cold,” she said breathlessly, heaving her breasts under Richard’s nose.
    He smiled benignly.
    “Why don’t you put your coat back on?” I said and wished I hadn’t. It sounded sullen, the way I felt.
    “Do you still want help with your Desdemona paper?” Could Fleur sense my misery?
    I nodded.
    “Let’s run down to the university library the day after Christmas. I don’t know how long