Flat-Out Love - Park Jessica (книги txt) 📗

“Finn is your brother?”

“Yup. He’s my brother.”

Julie smiled. God, Matt was so… odd. “Older or younger?” she prompted.

“Older. By two years.”

“Making him…?”

He dropped his head, his hair falling over his eye, and laughed softly. “Twenty-three.”

“So you’re twenty-one. And a junior? When is your birthday? Did you take a year off from school after high school?”

“I did. You know, you seem to have your own interest in math. This flagrant fascination with numbers might mean you’re headed for a new major.”

Julie crossed her arms. “Unlikely. I haven’t been fitted with your newfangled compression filter.”

“I could put in a good word with the developer. Maybe get you on the list for the next model?”

“I’ll pass, but thanks.”

“Yeah. This beta version still needs some tweaking.”

Julie smiled. “No kidding. But it’s all right.”

Chapter 3

“Dinner will be here in a few minutes. You must be ravenous.” Erin reached into a kitchen cabinet and retrieved a stack of ceramic plates. She had changed into a linen vest and dark jeans, and retightened her long hair into a neat twist at the nape of her neck.

The air conditioning in the house relieved the heavy air Julie had been suffering through all day, and she knew she should enjoy it while she could; the odds of renting an apartment with central AC were extremely unlikely. Julie took the plates from Erin. “I’ll do this.”

“Thanks. Matthew has the placemats and silverware.” She nodded her head toward the dining room. “Oh, Julie? Did you reach your mother?”

“I did. And she asked me to thank you again.”

“No more thanks necessary. It’s a good thing she hadn’t shipped out the rest of your things yet. They would be sitting on a street corner. I told her to just send everything here, and Matthew can help you move them when you find a place.”

Julie moved to the dining room as Matt set down the last fork. She set the plates on the table and frowned as she re-counted the setting. “There’ll be five of us, right? You, me, Erin, your dad, and Celeste? We’ve got an extra place set.” Julie went to remove the plate.

“No. Just… um…” Matt cleared his throat. “Just leave that one. I should probably tell you,” he started, while busying himself with the napkins, “that Celeste has this thing she does. She has this… I guess, it would be considered…”

Julie waited while he started and stopped a few times, and finally she leaned in to whisper, “I’ll need to hear more actual words in order to understand you.”

“I don’t know how to explain it to you.” He sighed. “Celeste—” The front door opened and Matt mumbled something.

Julie looked questioningly at him. “What?”

He shook his head. “Just try to go with it.”

**********

Well, the food was good. Cambridge Thai restaurants had a clear win over the single Thai restaurant back home that served generous portions of distinctly unappetizing dishes. And the company was entertaining, if not alternately overwhelming or altogether intelligible.

Erin had kept up a stream of information regarding Massachusetts politics (“A tangled web of corruption, nepotism, and general discombobulation”), the hierarchy of Harvard professors and chances for tenure (“Dominated by a goddamn miserable social infrastructure!”), and the history of Boston’s public transportation system (“A toxic blend of poor planning and archaic engineering”). Just when she feared Erin might absolutely run out of breath and collapse face-first into her meal, Julie managed to ask Roger what he did for work, prompting the quieter man to let loose a slew of information.

“I’m particularly drawn to the study of nutrient dynamics and interdisciplinary investigations of coastal habitats.” Erin’s husband Roger was now in the middle of a complex explanation about his most recent research paper. He was a researcher at the Laboratory for Microbial Oceanography and had received a grant to travel to Southeast Asia. “But my trip will focus primarily on shrimp defense mechanisms and immunomodulation to enhance sustainability and reduce antibiotic usage in shrimp culture.”

Julie poked at her curry. “Shrimp culture. Yes.” She essentially had no idea what Roger was talking about, but she enjoyed his enthusiasm. He had a real Dad look about him: button-down shirt, khaki pants, loafers with no socks, thinning gray hair, soft blue eyes, and charming wrinkles that appeared when he even hinted at a smile.

Roger adjusted his wire glasses and leaned his thin frame into the table, gesticulating with a forkful of chicken satay. Despite his flailing hand motions, his voice was soft, soothing. “Refining techniques to determine the activity of shrimp defense mechanisms is important. Pagocytic activity, phenoloxidase activity, and of course, bacterial clearance ability. There will be a lot to explore on this trip.” He spilled some peanut sauce onto the cuff of his wrinkled button down shirt and smudged it dry with a napkin.  “Which reminds me that I have to go back to the office tonight. I’ve got more paperwork that needs to be filled out for the grant commission.”

Erin reached for the container of ginger noodles. “I have to go to the office tonight, too. I’ve got mountains of work ahead of me, and I still have to finalize the syllabus for the classes I’m teaching this semester. My apologies, Julie. And, Matt , classes start next week for you, too, so you should get a jump-start gathering materials for your independent study. I’m sure you could find something more challenging than the last set of articles I saw you reading.” She frowned at him.

Matt remained expressionless, as he had through most of the meal. “Sure. I’d love to.” There was an edge to his voice that momentarily silenced the table.

Erin set her fork down. “Matthew, don’t sulk. One of those articles you were fussing over had been published in some unheard-of journal, and it was beneath you.”

“Maybe Julie can help Matt?” Celeste suggested.

Julie looked across the table and smiled at Celeste. The thirteen-year-old was breathtaking, and Julie found it impossible not to be drawn in by her appearance alone. She looked like one of those pitiable children forced to don ridiculous wings and pose for angel-themed calendars. But with that long blond hair that fell in wild waves and penetrating blue eyes, Celeste was positively… Well, ethereal, appropriately enough.

 “Celeste, I’m sure Julie has zero interest in helping me root through online article databases,” Matt said. “Not everyone finds the American Institute of Physics as titillating as I do.”

“Oh!” Celeste clapped her hand to her mouth, stifling laughter. “Matt said a bad word!”

“I said titillating, not tit.”

“Now you said a bad word!” Celeste squealed.

Erin sighed loudly. “Matthew, is that necessary?”

“It’s just a little dinnertime social intercourse, Mom. Nothing to get upset about. Besides, you’re the one who’s prone to flinging around terms like penal system, rectify, and annals of law.”

“Matthew! That is enough!” Erin spoke loudly in order to be heard over Celeste’s stream of giggling. Erin wrinkled her forehead in disapproval, but Julie detected the beginning of a smile. “Celeste, get control of yourself.”

Julie had to bite her cheek to stop Celeste’s laughter from rubbing off on her. “Anyway, I’m sure I would be more of a hindrance to Matt than a help. Maybe after I get a semester of college under my belt.”

Celeste, who had managed to compose herself, studied Julie’s face. “You look too smart to be going to Whitney.”

“Good God, Celeste!” Erin said sharply. “Julie, I apologize. I don’t know what is going on with this dinner.”

Julie laughed. “It’s OK. I’ll take it as a compliment. I know that Whitney isn’t the most prestigious school.”