Seeing Things by Patti Hill Read Free Book Online Page A

table, perfectly within range of Bee’s tail.
    â€œWe better keep moving. Now, show me the dining room, girl.”
    Against the oak paneling, the light switches proved more difficult to find. I felt the wall on either side of the entrance until I found a row of switches and a dimmer. On the rug under the dining room table, royal blue and rust fronds of the tropical kind danced around the border, but more importantly, the edge folded back with a push of my toe.
    â€œHere’s a rug to watch,” I told Bee.
    I stepped onto the rug to get a feel for the thickness and steadied myself with one of the chairs. I prayed I’d never have to move that chair. It weighed as much as my Volkswagen, maybe more. I rubbed at the tabletop with the cuff of my robe, knowing I’d left plenty of smudges on the glasslike top.
    â€œWe better move on before Lupe catches me undoing her work.”
    I followed the tapping of Bee’s claws toward the front door. Another rug, a runner this time, nearly filled the hallway and silenced Bee’s progress. “Stay with me, you sorry excuse for a hound dog. My ankle’s starting to ache, and I still want to see the kitchen.” I paused at the bottom of the stairs that led to the family’s bedrooms. At home I’d marked my stairs with orange tape to differentiate one step from the next. The Wainwright staircase was nothing but an oaken slide to my sorry eyes. I wouldn’t be going up there any time soon. I turned back to the kitchen.
    I found the refrigerator quite by accident, thinking it was the pantry. My mouth watered with anticipation of treasures within. No such luck. Soy milk. Brown rice. Tofu. The pantry, when I finally found it, was bigger than my garage, but not one thing sitting on the shelves appealed to my sweet tooth. The raisins were hard nuggets.
    I must confess that I coveted the double ovens under a sea of burners. Just think of the pies I could bake in all that space! Elsie begged me to increase my output on a regular basis, and the extra income would buy paints and watercolor paper.
    â€œLord, if it would make you smile, I’d love a double oven. Of course, you’re going to have to add on to my kitchen too.” My tummy did a tumble when I thought, quite involuntarily, about Emory’s double wall ovens. Even I wouldn’t marry a man just for his ovens. Would I?
    Before settling back in the bedroom, I scanned the space for any sign of Huck. Nothing. I sighed, surprising myself.
    â€œCome on, Bee. Paula Dean is on in a few minutes.”
    ANDY APPARENTLY SLIPPED INTO the house as I scribbled notes on cinnamon rolls from Paula’s show. Bee snored at my feet.
    â€œFletcher, come down here now!” he called.
    â€œAndy?” I called out.
    The clock announced the time: “Four-thirty-nine.” Early for Andy to be home. Very early. He entered the room, slapping a piece of paper with the back of his hand.
    â€œWhat’s up?” I said.
    â€œYour grandson is getting a B in English Comp. He missed an assignment.”
    All this drama over a B? I chose my words carefully, “Can you sit with me for a minute?”
    â€œAre you in pain?”
    â€œNo, I wanted to show you my new boot.”
    He whistled. “Impressive.”
    â€œAnd I can put weight on the foot.”
    â€œI suppose you want to go home?”
    â€œDo you want me to?”
    â€œNo, not at all.” He shuffled around a bit. “Suzanne told me about the sofa.”
    â€œBee can be a beast. One minute she’s an angel; the next minute she’s gnawing a leg off a table. I should have been watching her more closely. I’m so sorry.” Men are the toughest of the species to read through the fog. So often, and I learned this before I lost my central vision, they believe they’ve answered a question when they haven’t uttered a word. More than once, Chuck swore up and down he’d replied to my inquiry when,