Creed's Honor. Linda Lael MillerЧитать онлайн книгу.
Tricia. We’ll be moving to Paris for at least two years—Sasha will love it, and we’ve already found the perfect private school for her.” Diana, a teacher, home-schooled Sasha, not to keep her out of the mainstream but because the child had a positively ravenous capacity for absorbing information. “The French school is famously progressive. Of course, we have to go over there as soon as possible, to look for an apartment…”
It was a dream come true, and Tricia was happy for her friend, and happy for Paul and Sasha—she truly was. But Paris was so far away. She could hardly get to Seattle these days. How was she supposed to visit France?
“That’s…great….” she managed.
“You’ll come over often,” Diana said quickly. She was perceptive; that was one of the countless reasons she and Tricia were so close.
“Right,” Tricia said doubtfully.
Valentino’s snores reached an epic crescendo and then started to ebb.
Diana went on. “Paul and I were hoping—well—that Sasha could stay with you while we’re away, checking out real estate. Paul’s folks would look after her, but they’re traveling in Australia, and mine—well, you know about my parents.”
Diana’s mother had a drinking problem, and her dad went through life on autopilot. Letting them babysit Sasha was out of the question.
Tricia closed her eyes. She loved Sasha but, frankly, the responsibility scared her to death. What if the adventurous ten-year-old got hurt or sick or, God forbid, disappeared? It happened; you couldn’t turn on the TV or the radio without hearing an Amber alert. “Okay,” she said. “Sure.”
“Don’t be too quick to agree,” Diana said, with a smile in her voice. “We’ll be gone for two weeks.”
Tricia swallowed. “Two weeks?” The words came out sounding squeaky. “What about her schoolwork? Won’t she get behind?”
“Sasha is way ahead on her lessons,” Diana assured her. “Two weeks will be a nice break for her, actually.”
“You don’t want to take her to Paris?”
Diana chuckled. “It’s a long flight, especially from the West Coast. We’d rather she didn’t have to make that round-trip twice. Besides, we don’t get that many opportunities for a romantic, just-the-two-of-us getaway.”
“Two weeks,” Tricia mused aloud, then blushed because she’d only meant to think the words, not say them.
This time Diana laughed. “Feel free to say no,” she said sincerely. “I know you’re busy with whatever it is you do down there in Colorado. Paul can go to Paris alone—he’s perfectly capable of choosing an apartment that will suit us—and I’ll stay here in Seattle with Sasha.”
Affection for her friend, and for Sasha, warmed Tricia from the inside. Made her forget about the driving rainstorm she had to drive through to get home, for the moment at least. “Nonsense,” she said. “Paul is real-estate challenged and you know it. Remember the time he almost bought that mansion with the rotting floors and only half a roof? I’ll be glad to have my goddaughter visit for two weeks.” She paused. “Unless you’d rather I came over there.”
“Sasha’s never been to Colorado,” Diana said gently. “She’ll love it. You do have room for her, don’t you?”
The apartment had one bedroom, but the living room couch folded out. “Of course I do,” Tricia responded.
“It’s settled, then,” Diana said.
“It’s settled,” Tricia agreed, already starting to look forward to Sasha’s visit. The child was delightful and Tricia adored her.
“So what do you hear from the biggest loser these days?” Diana asked.
Tricia sighed. That was Diana’s nickname for Hunter, whom she had never liked, though, to her credit, she’d always been polite to him. “I had a text from him today, as a matter of fact,” she replied lightly. “He misses me.”
“I’ll just bet he does,” Diana said dryly.
“Diana,” Tricia replied, good-naturedly but with the slightest edge of warning.
“When were you planning to rendezvous?” Diana asked, with genuine concern. “Are Paul and I messing up your love life by dumping our brilliant, well-behaved and incomparably beautiful child on you, Trish?”
What love life? Tricia wanted to ask, but she didn’t.
“Hunter and I have waited this long,” she said practically. “A few more weeks won’t matter. And I can’t wait to see Sasha.”
“You’re a good friend,” Diana said.
“So are you,” Tricia replied. Okay, so Diana wasn’t Hunter’s greatest fan. She didn’t really know him, that was all. She was protective of all her friends, especially the ones who had been painfully shy in high school, like Tricia.
“Trish—”
Tricia tensed, sensing that Diana was about to say something she didn’t want to hear. “Yes?”
Diana sighed. “Nothing,” she said. When she went on, the usual sparkle was back in her voice. “Listen, I’ll make Sasha’s flight arrangements and email her itinerary to you. I suppose she’ll fly into Denver. Is that going to be a problem for you? Getting to the airport, I mean?”
Tricia smiled. “No, Mother Hen,” she said. “It will not be a problem.” Diana really was a mother hen, but not in an unhealthy way. She liked taking care of people, but she knew when to back off, too. She’d learned that the hard way, she’d once confided in Tricia, courtesy of her profoundly dysfunctional parents. “All right, then,” Diana said. There was another pause. “By the way, do you have plans for Thanksgiving? Paul doesn’t have to start his new job until after New Year’s, so you could join us in Seattle—”
Valentino stretched, got to his feet and went to press his nose against the door, indicating that he wanted to go out.
Point in his favor, Tricia thought. He’s house-trained.
“Thanksgiving is Natty’s favorite holiday,” she reminded Diana, crossing to open the door for Valentino. “We always spend it together.”
Standing on the threshold, Tricia noted that the rain had slowed again, but the sky looked ready to pitch a fit.
Valentino went out, showing no signs of his previous phobia.
Tricia remained in the doorway, keeping an eye on him, the phone still pressed to her ear.
“I knew you’d say that,” Diana said.
Tricia laughed. It was still midafternoon, but thanks to the overcast sky and the drizzle, she had to squint to see Valentino. “It’s always good to be invited,” she said.
The dog lifted his leg against one end of a picnic table and let fly.
The conversation wound down then, to be continued online, with email and instant messaging.
Tricia said goodbye to her friend and put down the phone before going back to the open door and squinting into the grayish gloom.
There was no sign of the dog.
“Valentino!” she called, surprised by the note of panic in her voice.
Just then, he rounded the row of trash receptacles, trotting merrily toward her and wearing a big-dog grin.
By the time Tricia left for home an hour later, Valentino was sound asleep on his new bed. She carefully banked the fire, made sure he had plenty of water and an extra scoop of kibble in case he needed a midnight snack. She’d been dreading the moment she had to leave him, but he didn’t seem concerned.
She promised she’d be back first thing in the morning and, apparently convinced, Valentino stretched