Second Child by John Saul Read Free Book Online Page B

and her mind went back to the dress. She got up and went to the closet, hesitating only a second before pulling the door open.
    The dress was hanging neatly on a hanger.
    Melissa stared at it for a moment. Had she been wrong? Had her mother not come in at all? Had she imagined the whole thing?
    At last, her hands trembling, she reached out and took the dress off the hanger. Turning the seams inside out, she examined them care fully.
    Some of them looked perfectly normal. But others—the ones that held the sleeves on, and the one up the bodice—were different.
    The stitches were tiny and perfect, but the thread was a few shades different from the dress itself.
    She smiled, then glanced up at the ceiling. “Thank you, D’Arcy,” she whispered. “Thank you for mending it for me.”

CHAPTER 4
    “For heaven’s sake, Cora! What are you doing?” Phyllis Holloway’s sharp voice startled the housekeeper, and the paring knife in her hand clattered into the sink.
    Her eyes automatically flicked to the large clock on the wall: it was only nine-thirty, at least half an hour before Mrs. Holloway made her usual appearance in the kitchen. She picked up the knife, set it on the drain board, then turned to face her employer. “I thought I’d make an apple pie,” she offered. “You know how Melissa loves my pies.”
    Phyllis’s lips tightened. “After her behavior yesterday, I hardly think she deserves a treat, does she?” Cora, knowing the question was purely rhetorical, said nothing. “And you have better things to do than make pies today, don’t you?” Phyllis went on.
    Cora’s brows rose and she quickly reviewed what she’d already done that morning. Melissa’s breakfast had already been finished and the dishes washed, and Mrs. Holloway’s pot of coffee had been waiting in her room as usual. Downstairs, the last of the mess from the party had been cleared away, and every room thoroughly dusted. Thenshe thought she understood. “I was holding off on the vacuuming,” she explained. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
    “And that was very considerate of you,” Phyllis replied, relenting slightly. “But it was Teri I was thinking of. It seems to me we ought to start getting her room ready.”
    Cora felt a wave of relief flow over her as she realized she was going to be spared one of her employer’s tirades over some minor detail she had overlooked. “I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “I thought maybe the corner room in the east wing …” Her voice trailed off as she saw the dark look that immediately came into Phyllis’s eyes.
    “The east wing?” Phyllis repeated. “But that’s the guest wing, with all the best views. No, I was thinking about the room next to Melissa’s.”
    Cora’s brows knit in puzzlement. Melissa’s room was in the corner of the south wing, and there was nothing next to it except the small nurse’s room, connected to it by a bath. “Well, I don’t know,” Cora began. “It’s awfully small—”
    But Phyllis didn’t let her finish. “We’ll go up and take a look at it.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Cora murmured. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, then followed Phyllis through the butler’s pantry and dining room into the large foyer. Upstairs, they turned to the right, and a moment later stepped into the small chamber that adjoined Melissa’s large and airy room. Cora looked around doubtfully. The room was sparsely furnished with only a small daybed, a worn bureau against one wall, a table in front of its single window, and an old wooden rocking chair. Covering the hardwood floor was a threadbare oriental rug that Cora knew had originally been in one of the guest rooms, but which had been consigned to this room when it had been deemed too frayed for further use.
    Except in the servants’ quarters.
    “It—Well, it’s kinda small, isn’t it?” Cora asked, then regretted the question as Phyllis’s impatient eyes fastened on her.
    “This was my room once,