Shadow of Ashland (Ashland, 1) by Terence M. Green Read Free Book Online Page B

while staring at the ceiling. My gaze tracked the layers of paint above me to where they met the wall, slid down the vertical surface, over cracks and filled-in nail holes, then fell sideways to the bathroom door, across it like a shadow, resting finally on the window through which I had peered the night before.
    I folded my hands behind my head, stretched in the clean sheets.
    The whining drone of a heat bug rose high in the sky, stinging the warm air.
     
    The bathtub was an old four-legged model that had been fitted with a shower attachment in more recent times. Part of it consisted of a chrome hoop over the tub, suspended from the wall and ceiling, from which the shower curtain was hung. I opened the tiny window in the bathroom, started the water, and stepped inside the plastic wraparound, letting the warm spray center between my shoulders. The water ran in a stream from my chin as I looked upward, watching the steam rise and roll toward the window.
    A new day, I thought. The old and the new, everywhere about me.
     
    I sat down on the red-and-chrome swivel chair and looked down the counter.
    Jeanne glanced up from her magazine and met my eyes. A small half smile was slow in coming. Flipping the magazine over to save her place, she sauntered toward me, pencil poised over her receipt book. "Can't believe you're back."
    "Must be a creature of habit."
    "Once is a habits
    "A habit I started when I was a kid. You can blame my mother. People blame them for most things, now that I think of it." I caught myself, as a picture of her came back to me— an image of her about my age, her dark hair braided and wrapped around her head—actually in the Woolworth's at Yonge and Eglinton, with me in tow.
    "In the five-and-dime with Mom."
    I nodded. The memory could not be shared.
    She shrugged. "So what'll it be?"
    I'd been studying the signs. "Says you got an all-you-can- eat breakfast for three forty-nine, until one p.m."
    She smiled. "Can be quite a bargain, you know how to do it."
    "How should I do it?"
    "Don't touch the pancakes."
    I waited for more.
    "Nor the sausages."
    "What does that leave?"
    "Bacon, eggs, toast, juice, coffee. Nothing much we can do to them. You'd be safe."
    "How many do I get?"
    "Like it says. How many you want?"  
    "Why don't you load up a plate for me? You decide."  
    "You look like you could use some fillin' up." She stood back, appraised me. "I'll go easy on the cholesterol, though."  
    "You've got a good eye."
    "An' I got two of them," she said, watching me with one of them as she scrawled on her receipt pad.  
     
    "You ever heard of Barbara Hutton?" I asked.  
    She refilled my coffee cup.  
    "Can't say that I have."  
    I nodded, lifted the cup to my lips.  
    "Should I have?"  
    I shook my head, swallowed.  
    "Sounds like a movie star."  
    "Does, doesn't it?"  
    "Well?"  
    I looked at her.  
    She waited.  
    "It's not important."
    She rolled her eyes. "What'd you mention it for then?"  
    "I don't know."  
    "What is it, a big secret"?"  
    "No. Not at all."  
    "Well?" She waited.  
    "She used to own Woolworth's."  
    She looked surprised. "This one?"  
    "All of them. In the thirties."  
    "The thirties," she said, emphasizing the last word.  
    I smiled. "That was before your time, right?"  
    She put a hand on her hip. "Just barely." Then, with a bit of coyness: "Was it before yours?"
    "It used to be. But," I said, "I'm not so sure anymore."
     
    "I'm Leo, by the way."
    She cleared away my dishes, leaving the coffee cup. "Where you from, Leo?"
    "Toronto. Canada."
    "Jeez. So you come all the way from Canada to eat at Woolworth's in Ashland. You escape from a mental institution or something?-"
    I chuckled. "I'm on vacation."
    "So this is the big trip, is it?-" A fake whistle. "I don't know about you, Leo. You got your day pass on you?"
    She was funny. I checked her finger. No ring. When I looked back at her face, she was smiling at me. Her face had lines, but they were good lines, travel