Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,34
at the vineyard in no hurry to leave.
She also wasn’t in a hurry for breakfast; an hour after opening her eyes, she remained huddled under the covers, furtively turning the pages of Lace. Every time she felt a hunger pang, she told herself: just one more chapter.
Sometimes, on formal occasions Charles would make Maxine gasp or blush or even forget what she meant to say. He could manage this by directing one meaningful look at her.
A knock on the bedroom door made Sadie jump. She shoved the novel under her pillow.
“Uh, come in,” she said.
“Just want to make sure you’re packed,” her father said.
“Yeah, yeah. All set.”
“I’m going to grab a quick bite downstairs and then we’ll hit the road.”
“This early?”
“I want to beat the traffic.”
Traffic heading into Manhattan? It was probably just an excuse. Her father was itching to leave.
He closed the door. She sat up and pulled the book onto her lap.
One night, shortly after they were married, Charles had murmured, “I don’t want you to wear any underwear to the de la Fresange ball tonight. I want to know that if I care to feel you at any time, you will be ready for me.”
Appalling. And, she had to admit, intriguing. Sadie got out of bed and tucked the novel into her suitcase. She doubted anyone would miss it. Especially once the library was all packed up into boxes and stored away somewhere.
With a quick check in the mirror to tame her hair, wild from sleep, she changed into cutoff jeans and a fresh T-shirt. She tossed a few last things into her suitcase and zipped it shut.
Another knock on the door.
“Come in.”
This time it was her mother. Leah’s hair was in a messy knot, and she had shadows underneath her eyes. Sadie couldn’t tell if the rumpled yoga pants and T-shirt she was wearing were her night clothes or day clothes.
“Your father wants to leave earlier than planned,” she said.
“I know, Mom. He was just in here. You okay?”
Leah sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve decided to stay a few more days. Maybe a week. I’m concerned about your grandmother.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No, no. You have a job to get back to. Just say goodbye before you head out to the car.”
Sadie felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t exactly lied to her parents about her job—she just hadn’t told them she lost it.
Leah leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before leaving. When she was gone, Sadie sat and looked at her suitcase, thinking about the copy of Lace stashed inside. Maybe she should have found some time to ask her grandmother about the book. What she really wanted to ask her about was the book club, but that would mean admitting she’d snooped around and found the journal. Now it felt too late to talk about anything; Vivian had more important things on her mind. And Sadie needed to get her own head back where it belonged: with her thesis paper.
She headed down the hall and saw that the door to her grandparents’ bedroom was closed. She knocked. No response. She knocked again.
“Gran? It’s me, Sadie. I want to say goodbye before I go.”
Her grandfather opened the door.
“Hello, Sadie,” he said. “Maybe come back in a little bit? Gran is tired.”
“I’m leaving soon. My dad wants to get going.” Sadie looked past him. The room was dark, the curtains still closed against the bright morning sun. From the hallway, she could feel the frostiness of the room’s air-conditioned climate.
He reached out and patted her head. “Give her a call when you get back to the city. Wonderful having you this week. Good luck with your studies.”
He closed the door, but she didn’t move. That was it? Even for her brusque grandfather, it felt a little abrupt.
She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Vivian. In the past few days she’d discovered another dimension to her grandmother: beyond the elegant, manicured façade, she was also a woman who had a secret trashy novel book club. A club she recorded in a journal she’d subsequently hidden in the wall.
Sadie wondered if Grandpa Leonard had known what was in those novels his wife was reading. Had Vivian sat there beside him in bed at night, furtively turning the pages while Leonard watched the eleven o’clock news? The thought made her smile.
Her grandmother was a spirited, interesting woman. Fine, she wasn’t exactly a feminist. But in that book club, in those secret stashes of