Maud's House by Sherry Roberts Read Free Book Online

taking care of myself for Lewis Lee.”), I was stuck in the funeral march of the leafpeakers.
    It always amazes me that humans, who mix every conceivable color in their chemistry labs, seem astounded when nature manages to produce a hue other than green. I wouldn’t mind if they came because they truly loved the fiery reds, burnt oranges, and flaming yellows. I understand the uplifting quality of color. But, I suspect, the real reason the autumn people storm New England, as the bourgeoisie did the guillotine, is for the show, the chance to see a good aristocratic head roll. Their friends told them they really must see New England in autumn. The Experience was everything, according to the cocktail party circuit. It gives people something to chat about. Police see it all the time at auto accidents and fires. Today half the Vermont countryside was burning and drawing a crowd.
    They clogged usually deserted roads like mine. They came from big cities to the South and French cities to the North, loaded with enough camera equipment to keep Japan in business, two migrations of shutter bugs colliding in the hills and valleys of Vermont. They crept along the roads in every form of vehicle, motorcycle, big car, and bus. They stopped without giving notice and pulled out without looking. They made U-turns on narrow roads, curves, and hills.
    “Oh, Harold, I want a picture of that one.” Snap. Click. Crash. “Harold, why don’t you watch where you’re going?”
    “May I see your license, please?”
    All to watch a few million leaves die.

    Round Corners’ one real street—the only one with a center line maintained thanks to the state’s paint crew—is known as Highway 100 on the Vermont state map. Usually it was sufficient for the small town’s needs. However, it was not nearly enough highway for the hundreds of tourists who passed through on a bright, musty-smelling fall afternoon.
    Since finding a parking space on the street would be impossible for the next two weeks, I automatically whipped in behind Wynn’s Cut and Curl.
    Wynn Winchester was knitting. She sat under one of the shop’s two hair dryers, the bubble hood of the dryer flipped up. From the basket at her feet, I surmised the mysterious tangle of yarn dangling from her lucky needles was going to be a red sweater for Junior. A tiny sleeve hung over the edge of the knitting basket. “Wynn, I’m parked behind your place, okay?” I said, poking my head in the shop. The bell over the door jingled.
    “Might as well. All the traffic has shot my business today. People don’t want to kick and claw their way to a perm. As if I could give anyone a nice curl even if they were feeling energetic.”
    “Still having morning sickness, huh?”
    Wynn motioned to a shelf of bottles and spray cans. “The stuff makes me sicker than a dog.” The hairdresser sighed, then suddenly brightened. She smiled and stretched her shirt tight across her stomach. “I think I’m starting to show. What do you think?”
    I shrugged. “Looks like it to me.”
    “There. I’ll tell that to the High and Mighty Harvey Winchester. He thinks I’m nuts, but husbands don’t know a thing. No matter how many of those baby books they read. A woman knows when she’s starting to show.” Harvey had been studying baby books ever since they learned Wynn was pregnant. He was a fount of information on breastfeeding, the formative years, and ear infections.
    “How long does Harvey’s books say this morning sickness is supposed to last?”
    “Harvey’s books says I’ll be out of the woods in another month. The doctor concurs. Until then, the women of Round Corners are just going to have to do without their fancy hair care.”
    I shivered. Things could get ugly around here.

    I crossed the street to the Round Corners Restaurant. As usual, the first thing I did upon entering the restaurant was inspect the cash register. The supply of Maud Calhoun greeting cards was low. Barns, mountains, cows. The