Scattered Leaves by V. C. Andrews Read Free Book Online Page A

doorjamb. Why hasn't it been sanded and
adjusted? Look at those shades dangling in rooms.
What about the ones missing from the upstairs
bedroom? I'm afraid to inspect the rest of the house.
Minor repairs have been neglected everywhere you
look here: the porch steps, porch floor, railings, that
stairway and banister. The place is a disaster and it
was once a prime property."
"None of that's my fault. I just agreed to clean
up. That other stuffs my father's job," she said. He
was hired to be the property manager, not me." I was shocked to hear a daughter shift blame
toward her own father.
Felix grunted.
"Don't worry. I'll be talking with him shortly.
Let's first get this place liveable. There's a young girl
going to be living here now."
"Well, don't blame me if it turns back to a
pigsty before you even drive away," she muttered and
charged past me down the hallway to a closet. She
jerked it open and pulled out a pail and a mop, glared
back at us and continued into another room, probably
the kitchen. I had yet to explore the downstairs. Felix watched her and then walked slowly to
the living room doorway, where I stood waiting.
Great-aunt Frances either hadn't heard the commotion
or had ignored it. She was still transfixed on her soap
opera.
"Miss Wilkens," Felix said.
She just waved at him. He looked at me
quizzically. I smiled and shrugged. Finally, the
commercial came on and she turned to us.
"Oh, are you all unpacked, dear?" she asked. "Not yet. I had to find the bathroom first. Is that
the one I'll be using, the one across the hall?" "Yes, it is. We'll arrange it together. Now that
you're here. I'll have to get myself more organized,"
she said. "I'll have to be more like Emma."
More organized? I don't see any order, I I
thought,
"You mentioned you were going to make her
some lunch," Felix said.
"Lunch? Oh, right, lunch. In a few minutes.
Debbie has just learned that her sister's child is her
husband's, too, and her husband is in a panic and just
wandering aimlessly in the city_ . Marcia says he's
like an amnesiac. They don't know if he's pretending." "Miss Wilkens. I have Mae Betty here cleaning
up the house. "Oh, wasn't she just here? I can't
remember."
"If she was, she forgot some things." Felix said
and glanced at me. "I'm sure you want it to be in
better shape than it is. It was once a prime property.
Mrs. March would have a second stroke if she set eyes
on it the way it is now."
"What? Yes." Great-aunt Frances considered
what he said, and then her eyes widened, "Emma's not
coming soon, is she?" she asked, obviously terrified of
the possibility and forgetting what Felix had already
told her about Grandmother Emma.
"No, Miss Wilkens. She won't be coming in the
near future, but eventually, she might."
"Well, let me know first. I'd like to get her
room fixed up the way she likes it. She so likes fresh
flowers in vases on the night tables. No one dares use
that room but Emma, even though she hasn't used it
since... since I can't remember.' She laughed. "Yes, well, as I said, things have to be taken
care of better than they are. Miss Wilkens, whether
Mrs. March comes or not," Felix said. "I'm--" "Oh, it's starting!"
She waved her hand at us to tell us to shut up
and leave her alone.
"I have to go talk to Lester now," Felix said, his
voice filled with frustration. "Just wait a little longer.
I'll return to see that you're getting your lunch." "I'm not that hungry anyway," I said.
He went out again. I thought a moment and
decided to walk down the hallway rather than go in
and watch a soap opera with Great-aunt Frances. The
kitchen was down the hall on the right. Just past it was
the dining room, and across from it was an office and
another door. All the furniture I saw looked old and
worn. Nothing was polished and sparkling like the
furniture in Grandmother Emma's house.
I opened the closed door and saw a stairway
going down into the basement. Then I heard Lester
Marshall's daughter Mae Betty filling the pail with
water