Free Evvie at Sixteen by Susan Beth Pfeffer Page A

“I’ll give your regards to Mr. Hughes.”
    â€œMr. Hughes was the boy’s father,” Aunt Grace said. “No, his grandfather. His father was Tom Hughes. We went out a few times, but there was no magic.”
    Evvie stared at her great-aunt. It was close to impossible to picture her on a date, and even harder to think of her in a magical relationship. Moved by the thought, she bent down, gave Grace a kiss good-bye, and started to leave the room.
    â€œYou kiss too easily,” Grace called out after her. “It’ll get you in trouble one fine day.”
    Evvie grinned and skipped down the hallway. For once Aunt Grace had a point, but Evvie didn’t care. She enjoyed the memory of kissing Sam.
    Not that she’d heard from him since their lunch, two days before. When he’d driven her back to Grace’s they’d been five minutes late, and neither one of them had cared to linger over farewells. Evvie knew Grace scared Sam, but she didn’t think Sam would be scared off forever. So it was just a question of time before she saw him again. And she could wait. The summer promised to be endless, so time would be no problem.
    â€œI’m going now, Mrs. Baker,” Evvie called through the kitchen door. “See you later.”
    â€œHave a good time, Evvie,” Mrs. Baker replied. “And don’t worry about your aunt. I’ll take good care of her.”
    â€œI know you will,” Evvie said, trying not to laugh. Somehow Mrs. Baker had gotten the idea that Evvie was now taking care of Aunt Grace, which, of course, was nonsense. At best she was keeping her company most of the day. At worst, she was aggravating the old woman in between spurts of pillow fluffing and mystery reading. But Mrs. Baker was still doing the caretaking.
    Even so, the thought of a lunch away was intoxicating. Evvie didn’t care how young or bratty Clark’s cousins might prove to be, or how provincial their mother, fresh from Syracuse or Wilmington, might seem. They weren’t old. And after a mere two and a half days with Aunt Grace, anyone who wasn’t old was a pleasure.
    Evvie jogged the half mile to Clark’s house, eager to put distance between her and Grace. Besides, she had yet to see Clark’s Eastgate home. It had figured in a few of Megs’s reminiscences, and Evvie was curious to see what it was like.
    As soon as she rang the doorbell, she knew what it would be like, and as soon as the maid opened the door, she saw she was right. Clark’s house was almost identical to Grace’s, same breathtaking views of the ocean, same thrown-together country feeling. Evvie smiled. She’d have to tell Sam that once you’d seen one summer person’s home, you’d seen them all. That should cut down on his feelings of being outside looking in.
    â€œEvvie, do come in,” Clark said, and he gave her hand a squeeze hello. “Brad, Vivienne, please say hello to Evvie Sebastian. Evvie is Meg Winslow’s daughter, Brad. You remember Meg.”
    â€œThe most beautiful girl in Eastgate,” Brad replied. “Much too young for me, Vivienne my dear. Evvie, how is your mother?”
    â€œFine,” Evvie said, since that, she assumed, was what he wanted to hear.
    â€œSebastian,” Brad said. “That name sounds familiar.”
    â€œIt’s Father’s name, dear,” Vivienne said.
    â€œI know that,” Brad said. “No, as a last name. What’s your father’s first name, Evvie?”
    â€œNick,” Evvie said. “Nicholas.” It occurred to her that Brad might have been involved in one of Nicky’s less successful schemes, and she grew almost faint from the thought.
    â€œNick Sebastian,” Brad said. “I know. He was up here one summer, made quite a stir.”
    Evvie smiled with relief. “That was the summer he met my mother,” she said. “The summer they fell in