The Tempest A.J. Scudiere (books to read in a lifetime .TXT) 📖

An hour and forty-five minutes later, they were two towns away, having finally found the Italian restaurant that agreed to their nine-person reservation at the last minute.

“I don't know.” As Sarah looked skeptically at the storefront, she shoved her fists down into the pockets of her sweater. Tonight, her leggings neatly matched her boots, meaning Sarah was at her dressed-up finest.

Not that any of them needed to look nice. Greco’s occupied a brick storefront in a strip mall. The Papyrus font in red, white, and green lettering wasn’t out of place between the pet supplies store and the nail salon.

“Well, we're here now,” Joule said, and heard her own mother as the words tumbled out. “I don't know what it will be, but it will be an adventure.”

She strode inside to the small hostess stand that looked like a lectern stolen from a community college. The hostess herself appeared to be about twelve. But by the time she held the menu, Joule was sniffing the air and saying, “It doesn't look like much, but it sure smells good.”

Even Sarah was agreeing.

An hour and a half later, they all had bags of bread and leftovers folded in tin foil swans—because the waiter thought he was special. The jury was still out on that, but the food had been wonderful.

“Okay,” Sarah conceded. “We can go there again.”

“But first,” Cage replied, “we need to start cooking for ourselves.”

“Do you mean me?” Deveron pointed to his own chest. “That’s a skill I do not possess.”

The others were waving goodbye and climbing into their own cars. Though they were all headed the same direction and would follow each other down the road for a bit, the four roommates had all come in Sarah's car. It had taken a deep breath for Joule to finally relinquish her burning desire to be in charge of the car, but Sarah knew her way around much better than Joule did. Maybe she could let it go, only for tonight. It was difficult to sit in the backseat and not have a method of escape. It was simply one of the leftover pieces of her past, but it was one that was worth leaving behind.

So she sat in the backseat with Deveron and looked out the window.

“You okay?” He seemed to have guessed something was off.

“Yeah.” But the word gave away that she was tired now, loaded up on carbs, and definitely ready to tap out for the evening. She changed the subject and hoped no one noticed. “Last night was the first night that I remember not waking up for the train.”

“I told you you’d get used to it,” Sarah’s announced, her cheer at being right emerging in the sing-song tone.

“And I believed you,” Joule said. “How could I not? I woke up every night and saw you on the other side of the room, eyes closed, snoring like a baby. So I knew it could be done. But last night was the first night I did it. And now I can’t wait to get home and try for a repeat performance tonight.”

She was even hoping to sleep in. Though Radnor had summoned them on one of the Saturdays, there were no call times for this weekend. She caught Sarah’s attention in the rearview mirror now. “What's on tap for tomorrow?”

Sarah had served as their local chaperone for the past several weeks, making sure they got enough “Alabama” to know their way around. “I don't know. It's been three weeks, and I'll be honest, there isn't that much more to do or see around here.”

She waited a beat, thinking. “There are a few wineries, but these are definitely Alabama wines. Not as well-known as France or California, for good reason. We could hit Noccalula Falls, if you want.”

“What is it?” Deveron asked, joining in on the weekend planning for once. He always tagged along, but hadn’t expressed real interest until now.

“Just a nice little park and the falls. And there's a statue of the woman it's named after. You know, there’s a plaque and it’s pretty. You’ll get some local landscape.”

Joule and Deveron looked at each other. That was pretty much their usual work: study the bedrock, avoid hurting the plants and critters. But without Radnor peering over their shoulders, it would be better.

“It's worth the drive,” Sarah added, as though she’d decided to sell them on the idea only now.

From the front passenger seat, Cage uttered a single choice word: “Shit.”

Before she could even ask, he turned around and held his phone up. “The radar is showing a bad storm coming in.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked. There went the falls …

“No. Right now.” He turned around to face her, pointing to the tiny screen. “It's ugly. And it's coming up right behind us.”

5

Cage stood at the window next to Sarah, each of them holding back one of the curtains. He let his knuckles touch the cold glass to keep Sarah from seeing that his hand shook just a little.

Joule was hiding in her room, deep in a book, earbuds in so she could pretend there wasn’t a storm. But Cage stood watch, as if keeping an eye on it would hold the storm away—as if his tension would keep him safe. He knew better, but he still stood at the window, watching.

“Was that a shingle!” He jerked as something black swooped by. Was the house falling apart? He was grateful he wasn't the owner.

“Maybe,” Sarah answered, in a far-too-calm voice. Then again, one of the things he’d learned in the past several weeks was that Sarah didn't show her hand often.

“Losing shingles doesn't concern you?”

“It does.” Then she echoed his own thoughts. “But it's not my house. And nothing's leaking …” She looked up as if to check that she was correct.

Cage let his gaze follow hers, but she kept talking.

“Helio Systems will get us a new house if this one's broken.” She was still gazing out at