Best Dating Rules by Tamie Dearen (story books to read .TXT) 📗

skin and rosy cheeks. She reached across the table to shake Emily’s hand. “I’m Hannah.”

“On a hike,” Spencer answered.

Grace frowned. “She’s one of those hikers?”

“You don’t like the people in the hiking club?” Emily asked.

“How should I know? I never get to meet them. He doesn’t bring anyone over.”

“I don’t live at home anymore,” Spencer defended. “And why would I bring a friend to the house so you could grill them?”

The tall sister with shoulder-length brown hair spoke up. “We don’t grill them, and you know it. You’re afraid we’ll tell them stories about you. We have lots of stories, and most of them are true. I’m Claire, and I keep secrets better than Olivia.”

“I’d love to hear a story.” Emily grinned, while Spencer buried his face in his hands.

“You want to hear about Spencer’s Senior Prom?” asked Claire.

“Oh, no. Tell her about his Superman underwear,” said Hannah.

“Hannah!” Spencer lunged for his sister.

Emily laughed. “Don’t worry, Spencer. I’m sure you don’t still have that underwear. You’ve probably moved on to Spiderman.”

Grace hooted. “I like you, Emily. Want to come to family dinner on Sunday?”

“No!” Spencer exclaimed.

“Why not, big brother? We promise to play nice.” Grace batted her eyes.

“I’d love to come, but can I let you know tonight.”

“Sure. Give me your cell number.”

“So how do you know Spencer?” Claire asked.

“She’s a friend from work,” Spencer explained.

“I didn’t ask you,” teased Claire. “If you wanted to tell us about her, you should have done it a long time ago.”

“So, are you in the hiking club? I don’t really have anything against them,” said Grace.

“No, this was actually my first hike. I don’t hike or anything like that. My favorite exercise is ballet dancing. At least it used to be.”

“She’s also an artist,” said Spencer.

“How did you know that? I never tell anyone.”

His face reddened. “I... I just saw the watercolors in your cubicle and assumed they were yours. I’m sorry if I wasn’t supposed to tell people, but I thought they were really good. Grace does watercolors, too. I didn’t know it was a secret...” His voice trailed off.

Grace said, “Oh, would you like to take a class with me? There’s a great summer class with a fantastic teacher. He’s amazing—you’ll love him. It’s on Tuesday nights.”

“Actually, it sounds fun.”

She glanced at Spencer, who sported a rather miserable expression. “It’s okay, Spencer. I was only surprised you knew about my painting. That’s all.”

All four sisters observed the small exchange closely. Grace considered Spencer with narrowed eyes.

“I’m really looking forward to getting to know you better, Emily. We’ve got a lot of things to talk about.”

When Steven called during the middle of their lunch, Emily sent a tense glance toward Spencer before stepping away from the table to answer.

“Steven? What is it?”

“They put her on an IV again, and now they’re sending us home. They told us to come back tomorrow if she still can’t eat or drink, and we’re seeing the doctor on Monday. I think we need to try a different prescription.”

“So what do they have her on now?” asked Emily.

“Uhmm... I can’t say exactly. But it isn’t working.”

“Do they have her on an antibiotic?”

“An antibiotic? For an ulcer? Uhmm, no I don’t think so.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Most ulcers are caused by infection, so they usually prescribe an antibiotic. I wonder why they didn’t give one to Mom.”

Steven heaved a heavy sigh. “I wish I could answer that one for you, Emily. Maybe Monday I’ll be able to give you a better answer.”

“You’re worried, aren’t you?”

“I... I’m not... Yes. I am. But, your Mom’s going to be fine. I promise. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

She wanted to believe him. At least he’d admitted his concern, but she knew from her research things didn’t make sense.

She walked back to the table, avoiding the probing eyes of the Marshall sisters. She had to say something. “Good news… Mom’s fine. She’s just dehydrated again.”

Grace started to ask a question, but Spencer caught her eyes. When he shook his head almost imperceptibly, she forked a spoonful of salad and chewed with relish.

Spencer asked Emily, “Are you finishing lunch? Or do you need to go?”

“No, I’m good. I guess I’ll be available for dinner on Sunday as well,” she told Grace.

“Six o’clock, as usual?” asked Spencer.

“Did we invite you, Spencer? I thought this was a girls’ night.” Hannah stuck out her tongue.

“Fine,” he smirked. “Are you cooking?”

“Hey, Spencer. Can we have shrimp scampi this week? You know, since Emily’s coming?” asked Claire.

“But that’s your favorite, Claire. Maybe Emily doesn’t like it.”

“I like everything. Well, except for liver. And eggplant. And mountain oysters. Other than that, we’re good.”

“Too bad,” Spencer chuckled. “I was really hoping to do mountain oysters.”

“What’s mountain—” Claire began.

“Don’t ask,” said Olivia. “I’ll tell you later.”

“I’ll bring dessert. Do you like Hello Dolly Bars?” asked Emily.

“Do they have chocolate in them?” asked Hannah.

“Of course… Dessert has chocolate by definition.”

“This is fun, isn’t it, Spencer?” Grace’s eyes were twinkling. “You should have introduced us to all your many, many female friends.”

Emily watched as he glared at Grace, the muscles in his jaw clenching. But he didn’t respond to her provoking comment. How many female friends had he had over the years? He was awfully good-looking—of course he’d had a lot of girlfriends. Perhaps she could find out at dinner tomorrow night. In fact, she might learn a lot at the Marshall family dinner.

Chapter Four

Anne felt like warmed-over death. And she looked like it, too. She stared at her drawn face in the mirror. She pulled out her concealer and dabbed it under her eyes to camouflage the huge dark circles. Then she rummaged through the back of her drawer, searching for powder blush to lend an appearance of color. Inspecting her work, she told herself she looked halfway normal. Hopefully, she looked good enough to pass the inspection of her daughter who was on her way up. Her husband had already seen how bad she looked.