Square in the Face (Claire Montrose Series) by April Henry Read Free Book Online

on her watch.
    Claire didn’t need to worry about finding Jean at home - Jean was always home. Her days were structured around the listings in TV Guide . Judicious use of her two VCRs and five TVs meant she never had to miss a program. On birthdays and Christmases Jean gave Claire copies of shows she had taped off PBS (while watching something else entirely) that she thought might appeal to Claire. They were usually shoestring documentaries about elderly beekeepers or the closing of a cardboard box factory.
    A square brown UPS truck waited for her to cross the driveway before pulling into the apartment’s parking lot. She was surprised when she and the driver arrived at Jean’s door at the same time. His hand truck was loaded with a stack of a half-dozen cardboard boxes, the largest about a foot square, the smallest only about three inches across.
    “Are those all for my mom?”
    “You’re Jean’s daughter?” The smile he gave her, white even teeth in a tanned face, made Claire realize why so many women fantasized about UPS drivers.
    Claire nodded and pressed the buzzer. “You know my mom?” Alarm bells were beginning to ring in the back of her head.
    “Yeah, lately I’m here nearly every day. Say, does she own stock in them?”
    “In who?”
    He held up one of the boxes so she could see the return address. “QualProd.”
    “What’s that?” Claire pressed on the buzzer again, wondering why her mother wasn’t answering the door. She could hear the muffled sound of the TV, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Jean left her TVs on even on the rare occasions she did leave the house.
    “Oh, you know. One of those home shopping channels.”
    “Oh, crap,” Claire said. She tried the knob and found it unlocked. She pushed the door open.
    The living room was dim, the shades drawn so that nothing competed with the forty-inch Goldstar with separate twin speakers that held pride of place. Her mother sat on the ratty green velvet couch wearing a white bathrobe with gold appliquéd butterflies. In her left hand she had a cup of coffee, and in her right hand she held a pencil poised over a notepad open on her ample lap. On the arm of the couch next to her lay the cordless phone.
    “Mom” - Claire started, but Jean shook her head without answering, her eyes riveted on the screen. On a little revolving black velvet pedestal lay a tennis bracelet, lit up so that every stone sparkled. In a slightly panicked tone, a man rattled off, “Only a handful of these bracelets remain in stock, and our phone lines are sizzling.” In the corner a digital display counted off seconds, going from thirteen to twelve to eleven as Claire watched. Her mother picked up the phone and punched in a number.  
    The UPS man put the clipboard into Claire’s hands and pointed at a line. “Could you sign for your mom, please? She looks busy.” Claire scribbled her name, anxious to have him leave. Maybe he had seen weirder sights in his deliveries, but Claire was embarrassed by her mother, the moth-eaten couch, the garish appliquéd butterflies, and most of all by the TV, where a knock-off Hermes silk scarf had now appeared on screen. “This scarf is not available in stores,” the announcer said. Probably because any one who could examine it under a bright light would realize it wasn’t worth fifty-nine dollars, Claire thought. On the fine white print running along the bottom of the screen, she noticed the scarf wasn’t even made of silk, but of something called Zilk, which had a little trademark symbol after it.
    “Got it in the nick of time!” said her mother triumphantly, setting down the phone. “The operator said it was one of the last five left.”
    “See you soon, Jean,” said the UPS guy as he finished stacking the boxes against the wall.
    Claire waited until he had closed the door behind him. “Mom, what in the heck is going on?”
    “What do you mean?” Her mother opened her eyes wide, but then was unable to stop