Petals on the Pillow by Eileen Rendahl Read Free Book Online

pursed. Her expression clearly stated she thought she might be dealing with a mental defective. Slowly and with a great deal of show about the business of enunciation, she said, “Generally, people don’t want their breakfast left on the stairs, miss.”
    Kelly grinned, instantly recognizing someone who could dish it out as well as she could herself. “Generally, I’m up and working by seven. If it’s all right with you, I’ll just come down to the kitchen when I get up and grab a cup of coffee and some fruit.”
    Mrs. Jenkins’ eyes remained narrowed, but finally her dough ball of a face creased into a smile. “We’ll be getting along all right, then,” she said as she ambled over to the butcher’s block, ample hips rolling. She picked up a chopping board covered with onions and shuffled back to the stove, sliding the vegetables into the pot that was simmering there. “What would you like this morning?”
    “Really, just a piece of toast and some fruit will do,” Kelly assured her.
    “Fine. Sit down then. I’ll have you fixed up in a minute.” The older woman sent Kelly scurrying to the table with an imposing nod of her top-knotted head. A piece of toast and an orange were in front of her in seconds.
    “I got the blackberries you wanted.” Betsy came tripping into the kitchen through the back door. She wore an old tat tered cardigan over her overalls and carried a wicker basket cradled in her arms. Seeing Kelly at the table, Betsy ducked her head and dragged her feet. A blush stained her fair cheeks under her brace of freckles.
    “Well, come here, child. Don’t dawdle by the door all day,” Mrs. Jenkins commanded from the stove. She took the basket from Betsy. Flicking gently at a berry with a sausage-like finger, she said, “You’ve got such a light touch, child. Not a single berry bruised. And them so fragile when they’re ripe. You’ve got the fingers of an angel.”
    Betsy blushed harder. “Good morning, Kelly.”
    “Hey, kiddo.” Kelly patted the chair next to hers. “Come and sit down. We’ve got work to do today.”
    “What kind of work?” Betsy asked as she slid into the wooden seat.
    “The most important part. Preparation. I need to see the wall I’m supposed to work on and check out what work it will need before we start.”
    “It’s just a wall. What do you have to check it for?”
    “Cracks. Rough spots in the plaster. Stuff like that. I’ve learned from experience that a little extra work at the front end, making sure everything is prepared properly, can keep you from completely screwing up a project at the end.” Kelly jumped as a huge glass jar full of change was thumped down in front of her. She looked up into Mrs. Jenkins’ face. “Yes?”
    “That’ll cost you a quarter, young lady.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “No, ma’am. There’ll be no excuse for using foul language in my kitchen.” Mrs. Jenkins shook her head.
    “What foul language?” Kelly looked to Betsy for an explanation.
    “I think she means the ‘s’ word you just said.”
    “‘S’ word? You mean ‘screwed’?”
    Mrs. Jenkins thumped the jar on the table again. “You’re up to 50 cents now, Miss Donovan.”
    Kelly looked to Betsy for help. Betsy shrugged and said, “Even Dad pays up.”
    “I didn’t bring my wallet with me. Can I give you an IOU?” Kelly smiled up at Mrs. Jenkins’ impassive face.
    “Fine, then. Put a note in the jar before you leave the kitchen and I’ll thank you to remember to keep your language clean when you’re in here from now on.” Mrs. Jenkins headed back for the stove with a meaningful backward glance from Kelly to Betsy.
    “Okay. Like I said, we have to get the wall prepped proper ly so we don’t sc—I mean, mess up the final painting, and then we’ll need to finalize the working drawings.”
    Betsy focused her attention on her hands in front of her, but regarded Kelly out of the corner of an eye. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here this morning. The