A Warmth in Winter by Lori Copeland Read Free Book Online Page A

on her hips, Britt jerked her nose skyward. “I am not going to lick that up!”
    â€œShh!” Ducking, Bobby glanced toward the bed. The grandfather slept on, still in his clothes, still with one hand draped across his chest. He hadn’t moved since Bobby woke him.
    â€œYou don’t have to lick it, just help me clean it.” Bobby looked toward the sink. “Where’s that rag he used yesterday when we spilled the milk?”
    With two fingers, Brittany plucked the dishcloth from the sink and brought it to Bobby. The fabric was cold and sticky against his hand and smelled faintly of sour milk.
    He tried swiping the wet cloth through the spill, but the juice only spread over the uneven stone floor. And it smelled! Without even having to look, the grandfather would wake up and know something had happened.
    â€œThis isn’t working.” Bobby handed the dripping cloth back to Brittany, who tossed it in the sink as if it were a disgusting thing. “What else can we use?”
    Moving quietly, he opened drawers and cabinets without finding anything useful. Britt found a drawer of clean dishtowels, but if he used one of them, he’d have to leave it dripping in the sink. When he woke up, the grandfather would see it and know about the spill and the wastefulness.
    Better to find something else.
    Brittany held up an appliance she’d found in a cabinet. “How about this?”
    Bobby grinned. “A DustBuster!” He’d seen the commercial a thousand times. On TV the tiny vacuum cleaner picked up dirt, lint, cat hair, and, of course, dust. Why wouldn’t it pick up orange juice?
    He took the machine from Britt and felt its weight against his palm. He gave the on button a quick push to test the noise, then decided the low rushing sound wouldn’t bother the grandfather. If he’d slept through Brittany’s squeal and his own splashing, the tiny sound of a DustBuster wasn’t going to bother him.
    The DustBuster worked—but only for a moment. Then liquid began to spray onto Bobby’s hand and face and clothes. Nervously he shut off the machine and set it aside, then took one of the dishtowels to wipe his face. Might as well use the rest of them to clean up the floor. Maybe they could hide the dirty cloths outside . . . and sneak them back into the house. Maybe the grandfather wouldn’t notice if they came back one-by-one instead of in a heap.
    So he and his sister cleaned up the spill and rinsed the DustBuster and ate their Froot Loops and brushed their teeth and combed their hair and put on clean clothes. They also put five juice-soaked dishtowels into a spare pillowcase, then slipped outside and hid the bundle beneath the grandfather’s overturned rowboat.
    As they came back inside, Bobby helped Brittany unbutton her sweater, then nodded when she pointed toward the TV.
    â€œKeep it quiet, though,” he whispered. “Don’t wake up the grandfather.”
    Things were going pretty well at the lighthouse. Bobby didn’t want to rock the boat.
    Dust fogged the atmosphere as Vernie whipped a feather duster over the bottles lined in a neat row. She crinkled her nose when particles tickled her nostrils.
    â€œNow, Vernie, what are you doing on that ladder? You’re gonna break your neck.” Coming from behind the candy counter, Elezar steadied the wooden perch, then peered up at her. “Besides, it’s Sunday. You should be resting on a quiet afternoon like this, not working.”
    â€œHold the ladder still. I’m not so tired I can’t do a little dusting.”
    â€œDidn’t say that,” Elezar replied. His lips parted as if he’d say something else, but then he must have decided to hold his tongue. Vernie exhaled in relief and kept dusting.
    â€œShoo, MaGoo.” The clerk gently nudged the plump cat away from the ladder. “If she falls she’s going to take us with her.”
    Vernie eyed him