Free The Beresfords by Christina Dudley Page B

insisted. “It wasn’t just about pulling off Greg’s shorts. It’s like the rest of the world exists just to amuse them and be made fun of. Not that their jokes aren’t funny sometimes, but sometimes they’re just mean.”
    “Oh—‘mean’—I’m not sure about ‘mean.’ What Eric did to Greg was mean, yes. He went too far there, but I don’t know if Caroline laughing at it was malicious. You heard what she said—this wasn’t outside their experience.”
    “But, Jonathan,” I said, hating to hear him excuse her, “just because you get used to something doesn’t make it right.”
    “It doesn’t, Frannie. You’re absolutely right, there. I’m just saying that, given their background and what they’re used to, it’s not surprising if they have a whole different perspective on things. You saw when I brought God up, how Caroline reacted.”
    “She didn’t like it. It made her uncomfortable. She changed the subject.”
    “Uh-huh. We have our view on things, Frannie. From growing up in this family and going to our church, living in our bubble, in some ways. You can see how alien we look to someone who didn’t grow up in that bubble. Just like she looks a little alien to you.”
    She ? She ? Why not they ? How did a conversation about the Grants become a conversation about Caroline Grant in particular?
    “Laughing at Greg was too bad, I agree,” my cousin continued, “but I think underneath it all she has good instincts. Look at how she tried to patch things up. And how she went over to you to understand you better. I think she really will make her brother apologize to Greg. Remember that bit in Romans about the Gentiles?”
    I shook my head. There were lots of bits.
    “The part about Gentiles who don’t have the law. Paul talks about when they ‘do by nature what the law requires,’ because they have the law ‘written on their hearts.’”
    Oh. That bit.
    “That was Caroline,” said Jonathan, “looking for reconciliation, even though she didn’t grow up being taught that.”
    I stared at my bare feet in their thongs. I did not like to disagree with him. But it seemed to me that, while Caroline may not have laughed in malice, she showed a decided lack of sympathy in trying to shame Greg out of being angry. And she had not been interested in my presence or opinion until Jonathan consulted me, content to take her cue from my other cousins’ indifference. How could I help but feel that her interest in me was really only spurred by Jonathan’s interest in me?
    “You certainly know what different backgrounds people can come from,” Jonathan began again, when I was silent. “Even if you’ve been with us Beresfords for—what is it now?—eight years?”
    I nodded.
    “You didn’t have a father. The Grants didn’t either. From what I can tell, their parents divorced pretty early on, and they haven’t seen much of him since. To them he’s just an alimony check that comes every month. Imagine how differently you would look at the world if you grew up all that time with your mother.”
    “Yes.” The tiniest patches of hot pink polish clung to my toenails. Julie had painted them at Easter in a fit of camaraderie.
    “We probably will see lots of the Grants this summer, just like Caroline said. It’ll be a contest, Frannie, to see who rubs off more on the other—us or them.” He tweaked my ponytail and rose, picking up his box again.
    I didn’t move when the door shut behind him. I hunched as if I didn’t even notice him going, my thumbnail chiseling at the bits of nail polish. “It’s not like the Grants are the first friends Tom brought home who didn’t come from our bubble,” I whispered. But I couldn’t say the rest of my thought aloud, even with only the twilight air to hear me.
    It’s just that Caroline Grant is the prettiest of them.

Chapter 8
     
    The summer days fell into a routine.
    After about a week of lazing around, Tom joined Jonathan in going to the Core-Pro offices