Flat-Out Love (3 page)

She sighed, blew her bangs out of her eyes, and picked up a framed picture from the desk. The photo was of someone bundled up in winter gear on a snowy hillside, snowboard in hand. It didn’t look like Matt, although it was hard to make out who it might be in the blurry picture.

Julie unpacked a few things from her suitcase, folding her clothes neatly and setting them into the dresser and hanging a few casual dresses in the closet. As much as she hated to keep all her clothes stuffed into suitcases, where they were getting permanently wrinkled, it didn’t seem right to unpack everything she had as though she were moving in for the long haul.

After dinner she would go online and start trying to find somewhere to live. Whitney’s freshman orientation was on Thursday, so that gave her all day tomorrow to come up with something. She’d really love to take care of this quickly, and in a city this big, there simply had to be something decent available.

She glared at her reflection in the mirror and quickly rifled through her luggage until she located her makeup bag and flat
iron. A few minutes later, she practically resembled a normal human being again. Maybe not by cheerleader standards, but she’d get through dinner without frightening anyone and then take a good long shower before bed.

“Julie? Do you need anything?” Matt knocked as he opened the door.

“I thought you were supposed to be studying,” she teased. “Thanks, I’m all set. Whose room am I in, by the way?”

“Finn’s.” He stared over her shoulder, looking vacantly into the room. “He’s away. Traveling.”

“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.”

“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 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 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 recounted the settings. “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 and 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, Erin’s husband, 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.” 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, phe-noloxidase 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 those 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.”

“How
did
you choose Whitney?” Roger asked. “You’re pretty far from home. Is there a program there that you’re very interested in?”

Julie didn’t know how to answer this. She was aware that studying at Whitney probably wasn’t looked at with high regard by the Harvard/MIT/Laboratory for Microbial Oceanography crowd at the table. “I guess I just wanted to try something new. Move to a big city. And to be honest, I didn’t get in to some of the other places I applied,” Julie admitted. “Even though my grades and test scores were good, my high school’s reputation probably didn’t carry much weight with admissions offices. I did get into a few other schools that would have been great, but I didn’t get the financial aid I would need. I’m going to have big loans to pay off as it is.”

“Whitney is a good school,” Erin reassured her. “The college admission process is nearly impossible to navigate. And you can always transfer to another school if you do well at Whitney.”

“Did you pick your classes yet? I could help you,” Celeste offered. “I read through the entire online course catalog when Finn was at Brandeis. He majored in creative writing and minored in journalism.”

Julie smiled. “I have to register on Friday, and I would love your help.”

Celeste was petite, with more her father’s build than Matthew, and her round face hadn’t yet slimmed down with age. And despite being obviously bright and overly articulate, there was something very immature about her. The light green pinafore-style dress that she had on looked more appropriate for a second-grader than a teenager. Julie would never have been caught dead in something like that, and she could only imagine how well it went over with Celeste’s fellow students.

But what struck Julie the most about Celeste had to do with what—or who?—was in the chair next to her.

“Oh, Julie! I didn’t introduce you properly, did I?” Celeste chirped happily and then turned to the seat next to her. “Flat Finn, this is Julie. Julie, this is Flat Finn.”

Erin poured herself some sparkling water, and Roger continued daydreaming about brine, but Julie was sure she heard Matt catch his breath. She eyed the seat again.

Frankly, she’d been hoping to get through dinner without addressing this issue.

No one else had mentioned anything so far, but this must be what Matt had started to tell her about: A life-size cardboard cutout of their brother Finn leaned stiffly angled against the chair, his gaze fixed rigidly on the ceiling’s light fixture.

The funny thing was that—even with the fixed stare—Flat Finn was undeniably cute. Hot, actually, which Julie knew was inappropriate to think considering that, except for the flat cardboard form, he had a lot in common with a deflated blowup doll. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the real Finn in the snowboarding picture, but in this large picture version she saw perfectly mussed-up blond hair, an athletic, ruddy complexion, and a lean but muscular build.

Finn was decidedly adorable. Even in pancake form.

Julie looked across the table and tried not to pause too long before speaking. “It’s very nice to meet you, Flat Finn. I thought you were traveling.”

Celeste wrinkled her nose. “
Finn
is the one who is traveling. Right now he is volunteering at a game reserve for rescued animals. This is
Flat Finn
. He is a symbolic representation of my brother.”

OK, this was obviously not normal. In fact, it was downright weird. But Julie was a guest in their home, and she would be as polite to this Flat Finn thing as she was to the rest of the family. “In that case, Flat Finn, would you like some basil and lemongrass duck?”

Celeste quickly shook her head. “He already had dinner. He is experimenting with not eating after five o’clock because he suspects that he can improve his metabolism and get more
cut
. His word, not mine. He is
quite
interested in women, though, and he thinks he would have better luck if he could just get rid of his tiny love handles.” She rolled her eyes, whispering, “I know, it is beyond outlandish. He looks good just the way he is.”