Here I Stay by KATHY Read Free Book Online Page B

unlocked for them. "Yeah, those're the ones."
    Jim scanned the shelves. "I don't see anything about graveyards."
    Reba opened the door. The night air felt hot and humid after the air-conditioned chill of the restaurant; but as she stood motionless, looking out at the street, a slight shudder rippled through her massive frame.
    "Let me look," she said. Selecting a volume bound in faded red cloth, she blew dust off the top before handing it to Jim. "Here it is. Got to get those lazy little bitches to dust in here."
    "I'll return it in a few days," Jim promised. Reba put a large hand gently on his shoulder.
    "Take your time, Jim. Take all the time you want."

III
    Since she was not in a position to employ full-time help, Andrea had to settle for a few hours a week from a local girl who had dropped out of high school at sixteen. "Linnie's not worth much," Reba told her, when recommending the girl.
    "But she'll work if you keep on her tail, and you can get her cheap."
    Linnie was early the following morning, which was unusual but, under the circumstances, not surprising. She had been struck by the photograph of Jim that Andrea kept on her bureau. "He sure is good-looking, Miz Torgesen." With not one, but two new men on the premises, she could be counted on to be prompt until the novelty wore off.
    Occasionally Linnie drove herself to work, but when her father needed his pickup truck, he dropped her off. He had done so that morning; Andrea waved, and a long arm flapped back at her from the truck window as it rattled down the drive. Hochstrasser was a widower, and Andrea felt sure that the supervision of Linnie was a never-ending trial to him.
    She turned a disapproving frown on the girl, who stood before the mirror fluffing her hair. "That outfit looks terrible. What happened to the skirt and blouse I bought you?"
    "They're in the wash." Linnie shifted her gum— from one cheek to the other. "I usually wear jeans—"
    "And how you ever manage to bend over in them I don't know."
    Permanently set wrinkles fanning out from the crotch of the jeans proved that Linnie could bend at the hips, but the fabric adhered to every curve. She also wore a livid chartreuse T-shirt, sleeveless and low-cut, that clung to her heavy breasts. Her features were too flat and coarse to be pretty, but makeup and billowing blond hair gave her the kind of allure television cameramen focus on when there is an out on the field during a football game.
    "You'll wear one of my blouses," Andrea said. "I'm expecting our first guest today, and you look like a waitress in a cheap bar."
    Linnie was ironing and Andrea was mixing muffin batter when the boys appeared, yawning and stretching. Andrea greeted them curtly. Correctly attributing her grumpiness to nerves, Jim said reassuringly, "Everything is going to be okay, Andy. The house looks great. If you want us to do anything— " He stopped, staring at Linnie, who had come in from the dining room carrying a curtain.
    Andrea introduced them. The boys studied Linnie appreciatively; Linnie smirked and swayed. Andrea sent her back to the ironing board, but she refused to stay there, wandering in and out of the kitchen on one pretext or another while the boys ate breakfast. When they had finished, Jim asked again, "Do you want us to do anything?"
    "The lawn needs mowing," Andrea said.
    "I'll do it," Jim said. He squared his shoulders as if expecting an argument, but Andrea had already fought her private battle on this point. The riding mower she had picked up at a local sale was a necessity, but it was also a concession to Jim's passion for cars. He had to have something to drive. And he couldn't get in trouble with the mower, the lawn was a gentle slope, smooth as a table.
    "I want both of you to do it," she said. "It's a four-hour job even with the riding mower, and there are places that need hand mowing. Don't hit the trees and don't run over the flowers—"
    "Picky, picky," Jim said. But the smile that warmed his face