Read Online Together Alone by Barbara Delinsky - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara Delinsky
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fresh soup and home-baked bread, as tasty as it was politically correct. Doug was, after all, an organic farmer.
In those early days, he and his partner worked a piece of land on the far side of town, and while they weren’t setting the world afire, they managed to bring in enough of a profit to make for a comfortable life in Grannick. Then the public caught on to the idea of organically grown produce, and the farm began to thrive. Adjacent land was purchased. Production increased. They hired more hands. Doug set up an office, ditched his jeans and workboots for khakis and loafers, and immersed himself in management and marketing. He began to travel. He met savvy entrepreneurs. He graduated to suits.
Eventually he sold the business to his partner, invested his take in his own consulting firm, and was on his way.
He was still on his way. Gone, wherever.
Emily waited for him to call, but he didn’t. Several friends did, wanting to know how she was doing without Jill. But Doug was apparently tied up.
He was very bright, his success no surprise. He applied to his business the same foresight that had prompted him to buy their house at a time when they could barely afford it but when it was dirt cheap. They owned it free and clear now.
Emily wished he had been as wise in planning for Jill’s education.
But that was water over the dam, come to mind only because she was idle waiting for him to call. She preferred being busy. Then she didn’t think about things beyond her control.
Determined not to repeat the fiasco of the night before, she put John Coltrane on the stereo, aimed the speakers toward the downstairs bathroom, and began stripping wallpaper. It was a small half-bath. Two nights’ work would be all, she figured, and if matching the pattern took longer than she expected, she could always work late. She had nothing better to do.
Pulling off the last of the strips, she stuffed them into a garbage bag and set it outside with the trash. Returning, she sanded rough spots on the wall and spackled cracks, with one ear on the music and one on the phone.
Doug usually called before dinner, since his meetings often ran late. Occasionally he called during a mid-evening break. Some nights he didn’t call at all.
She was worried that he wouldn’t call this night. But she had to speak with him. So, when nine o’clock came without any word, she phoned his hotel.
The front desk informed her that he wasn’t there, had never been there, had never even made a reservation.
She didn’t understand. The last thing he had told her on his way out on Sunday was, “You know where I’ll be.”
Well, she didn’t. And she wanted to reach him. Apparently he was staying somewhere new. She had no idea where.
She returned to the bathroom and worked a little longer, but the more she thought about it, the more disturbed she was. Thinking that maybe the person on the phone had made a mistake, she called again. She spoke with someone different this time, but the end result was the same.
In an attempt to find out what hotel Doug was at if not at the usual, she tried calling the travel agent who booked his flights, but the office was closed.
On the chance that he had left Baltimore and gone to Philadelphia a day early, she called his hotel there, but he wasn’t expected until late the next day. She hung up the phone, feeling unsettled and alone.
Within seconds, she snatched the phone back up.
Kay was stretched out on the lounge in the screened-in porch at the back of her house, luxuriating with a biography of Jenny Churchill and a tumbler of iced lemonade, when the phone rang in the den. She slid her glasses to the top of her head and listened to the rumble of John’s voice. When he didn’t immediately call her, she assumed it was for him.
Then again, it could be Marilee, though Marilee usually tried to call when John was out. John was a stickler of a father. He asked questions in a way that suggested he wasn’t getting the
In those early days, he and his partner worked a piece of land on the far side of town, and while they weren’t setting the world afire, they managed to bring in enough of a profit to make for a comfortable life in Grannick. Then the public caught on to the idea of organically grown produce, and the farm began to thrive. Adjacent land was purchased. Production increased. They hired more hands. Doug set up an office, ditched his jeans and workboots for khakis and loafers, and immersed himself in management and marketing. He began to travel. He met savvy entrepreneurs. He graduated to suits.
Eventually he sold the business to his partner, invested his take in his own consulting firm, and was on his way.
He was still on his way. Gone, wherever.
Emily waited for him to call, but he didn’t. Several friends did, wanting to know how she was doing without Jill. But Doug was apparently tied up.
He was very bright, his success no surprise. He applied to his business the same foresight that had prompted him to buy their house at a time when they could barely afford it but when it was dirt cheap. They owned it free and clear now.
Emily wished he had been as wise in planning for Jill’s education.
But that was water over the dam, come to mind only because she was idle waiting for him to call. She preferred being busy. Then she didn’t think about things beyond her control.
Determined not to repeat the fiasco of the night before, she put John Coltrane on the stereo, aimed the speakers toward the downstairs bathroom, and began stripping wallpaper. It was a small half-bath. Two nights’ work would be all, she figured, and if matching the pattern took longer than she expected, she could always work late. She had nothing better to do.
Pulling off the last of the strips, she stuffed them into a garbage bag and set it outside with the trash. Returning, she sanded rough spots on the wall and spackled cracks, with one ear on the music and one on the phone.
Doug usually called before dinner, since his meetings often ran late. Occasionally he called during a mid-evening break. Some nights he didn’t call at all.
She was worried that he wouldn’t call this night. But she had to speak with him. So, when nine o’clock came without any word, she phoned his hotel.
The front desk informed her that he wasn’t there, had never been there, had never even made a reservation.
She didn’t understand. The last thing he had told her on his way out on Sunday was, “You know where I’ll be.”
Well, she didn’t. And she wanted to reach him. Apparently he was staying somewhere new. She had no idea where.
She returned to the bathroom and worked a little longer, but the more she thought about it, the more disturbed she was. Thinking that maybe the person on the phone had made a mistake, she called again. She spoke with someone different this time, but the end result was the same.
In an attempt to find out what hotel Doug was at if not at the usual, she tried calling the travel agent who booked his flights, but the office was closed.
On the chance that he had left Baltimore and gone to Philadelphia a day early, she called his hotel there, but he wasn’t expected until late the next day. She hung up the phone, feeling unsettled and alone.
Within seconds, she snatched the phone back up.
Kay was stretched out on the lounge in the screened-in porch at the back of her house, luxuriating with a biography of Jenny Churchill and a tumbler of iced lemonade, when the phone rang in the den. She slid her glasses to the top of her head and listened to the rumble of John’s voice. When he didn’t immediately call her, she assumed it was for him.
Then again, it could be Marilee, though Marilee usually tried to call when John was out. John was a stickler of a father. He asked questions in a way that suggested he wasn’t getting the
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