Read The Girl Who Chased the Moon for Free Online

Sawyer,” Julia called to her. “I can’t believe you’re waiting for him in the bathtub. Get out before you turn into a prune.” Emily’s brows rose and Julia said, “That’s Stella. Don’t ask. Come on, I’ll show you my part of the house.” She started up the stairs and motioned Emily to follow.
    At the top of the staircase, Julia had to step back in the narrow hallway to let Emily enter, then she reached around her to close the door.
    “Just let me turn off the stove,” she said as she walked to the bedroom that had been turned into a tiny kitchen. There was a mood of magic and frenzy to the room. Crystalline swirls of sugar and flour still lingered in the air like kite tails. And then there was the smell—the smell of hope, the kind of smell that brought people home. Tonight it was the comfort of browning butter and the excitement of lemon zest.
    The window in the room was wide open, because that was the way Julia always baked. Bottling up the smell made no sense. The message needed some way out.
    “What are you making?” Emily asked from the doorway as Julia turned off the stove.
    “I experiment with recipes here before I make them for the restaurant. My madeleines aren’t up to snuff yet.” Julia picked up a madeleine from her first batch. “See? Madeleines should have a distinct hump on this side. This is too flat. I don’t think I refrigerated my batter long enough.” She took Emily’s hand and placed the small spongy cake in her palm. “This is how the French serve madeleines, with the shell side down, like a boat. In America, we like to see the pretty shell side from the shape of the madeleine pan, so we serve them this way.” She turned the madeleine over. “Go on, try it.”
    Emily took a bite and smiled. She covered her lips with her hand and said, her mouth full, “You’re a really good cook.”
    “I’ve had a lot of practice. I’ve been baking since I was sixteen.”
    “It must be nice to have such a gift.”
    Julia shrugged. “I can’t take credit for it. Someone else gave it to me.” Sometimes she resented the fact that she never would have found this skill on her own, that she had only discovered what she was truly good at because of someone else. She had to keep reminding herself that it didn’t matter how the skill got there, it was what she did with it, the love that came out of it, that mattered. Emily looked like she was going to ask what Julia meant, so Julia quickly said, “How was your first full day here?”
    One more bite and Emily had finished the madeleine. She took a moment to chew and swallow, then said, “I guess I’m confused.”
    Julia crossed her arms over her chest and leaned a hip against the ancient, olive-drab refrigerator. “About what?”
    “About why my mom left. About why she didn’t stay in touch with people here. Did she have friends? What was she like when she lived here?”
    Julia paused with surprise. Emily had a lot to learn about this town, about the havoc her mother had wreaked. But Julia certainly wasn’t going to be the one who told her. “Like I said, I didn’t know her well,” Julia said carefully. “We weren’t in the same social group in school, and I had my own problems at the time. Have you talked to your grandfather? He’s the one you should ask.”
    “No.” Emily tucked back some of her short, flyaway hair. Her whole demeanor was so achingly sincere. “He’s been hiding in his room all day. Did he and my mom not get along? Do you think that’s why she never came back?”
    “No, I don’t think that’s it. Everyone gets along with Vance. Come sit down.” Julia put her arm around Emily’s shoulder and led her out of the kitchen bedroom and into the living room bedroom. This room contained the only nice thing in her apartment—a royal blue love seat Stella’s mother had given her from her decorator’s showroom. There was also a television on an old coffee table and a rickety bookcase full of pots and