"He likes having the letters. Howard. Why is that a problem for you?"

"It's not. I just wondered. I can actually understand why he'd want the letters. It establishes more of a bond. You make a phone call, you talk, you hang up, and there's just silence."

"Exactly."

"Doesn't he have E-mail?"

"No. This uncle hasn't spent ten minutes with a computer. He has absolutely no interest in that sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?"

"Anything technological." I replied. "He's more into natural things."

What did he want? Why was he standing there, smiling at me? He had been giving me looks all day, looks that made me more and more nervous.

"That's kind of why I came around," he said with a slight shrug. "You see how beautiful it is today? Here we are, all caged in most of the day, rehearsing. practicing. We're ignoring nature. It's still quite nice. Warmer than usual for this time of the year here."

"Yes, it does look like a beautiful day."

"So why spend the last part of it inside? Feel like going for a walk?"

"A walk? You want me to go for a walk with you?"

"Just around the block. There's a dead-end street that looks out over the East River. I'd like to show it to you. I found it quite by accident one day.. It's in a very ritzy neighborhood."

I continued to stare at him.

"You want me to take a walk to see the river?"

"We hardly ever talk. I don't mean when we're all together. We've been here weeks and weeks and all I really know about you is your name, you're from Ohio, and you play the violin as beautifully as Itzhak Perlman."

"Hardly," I said.

"Not hardly. Soon." he corrected.

I laughed. His arrogance annoyed me as much as it annoyed the others, but he wasn't acting that way right now.

"I'm just talking about a walk," he said. "It's not holy matrimony. We won't have to go down the fire escape for some clandestine rendezvous," he added with a smile.

Perhaps I had better go with him, I thought. by make him any more suspicious?

"Okay. I'll finish this later."

"Sure. It won't go out until tomorrow anyway. That's nice, your writing to an uncle. You must be very close," he added while I put on my jacket.

"We are. We've always been. Where's Steven?" I asked when we started down the stairs.

"Playing with one of his computer games or something. He's a genius on the piano. but I really can't have an intelligent conversation with him. And I'm not trying to sound superior." he quickly added.

"Somehow. Howard, you don't have to try," I said, and he laughed, but differently from his usual condescending or satirical laugh. This laugh seemed so much more sincere.

He opened the door for me and I nodded my thank you and stepped out. He was right, of course: it was one of those days when the clouds just seemed daubed against the blue, little puffs of them here and there, the breeze gentle, everything still looking remarkably fresh. Most of the trees had lost their leaves, but the grass remained an almost kelly green.

"When New York has this kind of weather, it's unbeatable." Howard said. We walked slowly down the drive. "I like taking these walks in the city."

"I didn't know you went out on your own much. Howard."

"Oh, no? Well, when you girls are all locked up in one of your rooms or another and Steven has his nose in a computer game. I just wander away. I like to feel the energy here. The city almost has a palpable heartbeat. Excitement, lights, people. traffic. It's just... great," he declared. I smiled at his exuberance.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Shooting Stars Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net