Read A Sea Change for Free Online Page B

held the dish while she talked, hypnotizing Nick, explaining in minute detail why there were two less muffins than what she’d started over with. It had been an excruciating eight minutes in which, against his will, he’d learned what little Emily actually knew about the woman at Jaed’s house. And when Emily finally placed the blueberry muffins on his kitchen counter, she’d made certain she had Nick’s full attention before saying, “And I must say, she’s a pretty thing.”
    As soon as the door closed behind her, Nick wolfed down the first two muffins between swigs of coffee. They filled his painfully hollow stomach and he sighed in relief. He took his time with the third and was taking the paper off the fourth when he remembered something Emily had said.
    Nick opened the kitchen blind in time to catch his new neighbor’s second act. So, this was the Maddy Phillips Jaed had mentioned.
    Dressed like a clown in a third-rate circus, she was balanced on a ladder, groping along the gutter above Jaed’s living room. Water sloshed over the side and he just bet it was running up inside her sleeve.
    Every couple of feet she had to climb down, move the ladder, and start again. Nick couldn’t figure out why the gutter needed clearing. He’d checked them all in the fall.
    She reached the end that connected to the downspout and pulled out something floppy and red.
    He watched as she leaned forward into the ladder and began to laugh.
    Nick joined in when he realized it was the hat she’d lost to the wind.
    This woman was born to live on Salmon Beach.
     
    JournalEntry
    April 8
    Can’t sleep again. And I seem to go from one emotional extreme to another. I’m either crying or laughing, with no happy medium. Here’s an example: I’m cleaning the gutter, and the wetter I get the madder I get at Ted because it’s his fault I’m outside getting soaked in the first place. I wouldn’t be in this shitty state if he’d really loved me. But he didn’t. His big head was too busy figuring out ways to misappropriate funds from Cheney Stadium, while his little head was busy misappropriating Mrs. Monica A. Hoffman right under Ron Hoffman’s very rich nose. Talk about fucking your brains out…
    And I don’t know what hurts more: The fact that she’s older? Or that he actually managed to salt away nearly $150,000 before he got caught. Or, how about he was doing her in my bed on the nights I worked at the stadium?
    Maybe the worst thing was the guilt-by-association I’ve had to suffer. I’ll never be able to show my face at a ball game again. I love baseball…Loved being part of the “team.”
    I’ve been going to games there since Dad took me on my 7 th birthday!
    Everyone knew me there.
    Well, I guess everyone knows me even better now.
    So anyway, I’m out there on the ladder cursing Ted and then I find the hat I thought I’d lost, clogging up the gutter. I started laughing hysterically. Couldn’t stop. And then I started sobbing. Couldn’t seem to stop that, either. It was crazy. But here’s something crazier. I hate Ted for what he did, but somehow I miss him. I don’t want to be alone. I need to be needed, which must be some kind of sickness.
    I don’t want to think about Ted anymore tonight.
    Out of necessity I got a lot done today. Had to call a taxi so I could pick up the Volvo. Going up those 200 steps in the wind and rain was such a pleasure (she said sarcastically) that I can’t wait to do it again.
    I really couldn’t afford the cab ride, but I didn’t know how else to do it.
    I lugged three bags of groceries back down here. I left two in the car – nonperishable stuff – because I couldn’t face those stairs again today.
    After lunch I sat myself down in front of the computer and went through the email. Jaed alone had sent about 15 rambling messages. I answered them, but won’t hear back till tomorrow because of the time difference. There were over 50 requests for tour brochures. I just printed them