A Week From Sunday by Dorothy Garlock Read Free Book Online Page A

and approached a two-story white home, fronted by a wide porch. Adrianna noticed a pair of bentwood chairs on the porch and a swing at the end. With the sun beginning to set, bright light was reflected off the long, slender windows that lined both stories. A door led out onto a small roof porch. An abundance of shrubs flourished around the porch; a small magnolia tree stood at the end. A patch of yard at the side of the house had been set aside for a vegetable garden, although it was obvious from the tangle of weeds overrunning it that it hadn’t been tended to lately.
    As Adrianna walked up the steps and onto the porch she was aware that the house at one time had been splendid, but time and neglect had made it rather shabby. Quinn pushed open the door and walked ahead of her into the house, set her suitcase down, then held open the screen door for her to enter.
    “Come in, Annie.” As he looked down at her, his eyes softened for an instant as if he were apprehensive about her being in his home.
    Adrianna’s heart thumped. She wasn’t sure if it was this big man who caused it or her fear of the future in this house. She looked around. A tall stairway rose from the entry to the upper floor. To the right of the foyer was a living room; a couch, a library table covered with a tasseled scarf, an upright Victrola and an RCA radio were the only furnishings. Adrianna was dismayed by the clutter and disarray; nearly every surface was buried in papers, magazines, and books. She was trying to come up with a compliment about his home when something caught her eye. Above the couch hung a pair of oval picture frames: a sweet-faced woman with her hair piled on her head and a rather stern-looking man who appeared uncomfortable in a stiff collar, suit, and tie.
    The sound of footsteps came from another part of the house, and a woman with a mass of dark hair emerged from a doorway, wiping her hands on an apron. Her face appeared to be freshly made-up: spots of rouge on her cheeks, eyebrows darkened with pencil, and thick mascara on her lashes. Her mouth was a streak of deep red. She smiled brightly at Quinn, the corners of her mouth turning up, but when she saw Adrianna her smile faded.
    “Annie,” Quinn said, “this is Lola Oxnard. Lola, this is—”
    Lola interrupted: “Is she the one?” Her eyes traveled from the top of Adrianna’s head to the tips of her toes. Her look was one of disapproval, and Adrianna knew immediately that the woman resented her being there.
    Adrianna held out her hand. “I’m glad to meet you.”
    Lola touched her hand briefly to Adrianna’s. “Ya are?”
    “Of course I am,” Adrianna said firmly, determined not to let the woman intimidate her. She was aware of Quinn looking from one to the other. When he spoke, it was to Lola.
    “Did you get the room ready?”
    “Of course I did,” she said in the same firm voice Adrianna had used, and Adrianna knew she was mocking her.
    Quinn picked up the suitcase and headed for the stairway as Adrianna followed.
    Lola watched them ascend the stairs. “Bitch,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m not going to let you come in here and spoil things for me. I’ll make you wish you’d never come to Lee’s Point.”
    Quinn flung open a door at the top of the stairs and nodded for Adrianna to enter. She was surprised when she entered the large, airy room. The furnishings were old but well cared for. A large, four-poster bed stood against one wall covered with a faded quilt. A rocking chair sat next to the window. A beautifully embroidered scarf hung over the back. The room was clean and not as cluttered as the rest of the house.
    “This was my mother’s room,” Quinn explained.
    “Are you sure you want me to use it?”
    “I’m sure or I wouldn’t have brought you here. My mother spent a lot of time in here during her last days. She was proud of her needlework, and I’m trying to preserve it for Jesse. He isn’t interested in it now, but he might be