The Aviary by Kathleen O'Dell Read Free Book Online

her will, leaving the house to us along with a modest trust to run it.”
    “Isn’t the fifty years up yet?” asked Ruby.
    “Almost,” said Harriet. “I believe there are only four or so more months before the fiftieth year ends.”
    “And then what?” Ruby asked. “The house is falling down around our heads. A small allowance won’t go far with the old place.”
    “I believe we would be permitted to sell the property and split the proceeds. As long as we provide for the birds, of course. They must be kept together and cared for as long as they live.”
    “Would you really sell, Mama?”
    “I don’t know. There are other provisions in the document. I’m to meet with Mr. Merritt-Blenney in his office on Sunday to get the full picture.”
    Clara was thinking how terrible it must have been for Mrs. Glendoveer to never know what happened to her lost baby, Elliot, when she saw her mother draw a blue leather box from her reticule.
    “This is for you, Clara,” said her mother. “Mrs. Glendoveer told me long ago that she wished you to have it when she passed on.”
    Clara took the box and opened it. “The locket,” she said when she saw the oval citrine stone on its face. The necklace was cold to the touch, which made Clara feelthe dear woman’s absence concretely. She opened it and glanced at the little key held inside. Then she took off her hat, lifted her hair, and had her mother fasten the chain around her neck.
    “I’ll wear it always,” she said, and spent the rest of the ride home with her hand over her heart.

The bit of relief that Ruby, Clara, and her mother had felt evaporated when they entered the door of the house. Inside, the rooms were dark and chilly, and Clara noted that today was the first day in as long as she could remember that the house had been left empty.
    As Ruby and her mother went to the kitchen to make supper, Clara climbed the stairs to Mrs. Glendoveer’s bedroom. The door was ajar, and Clara peeked in and saw that the bed was neatly made. The desk where she had sat and read looked very small.
    For many years, Mrs. Glendoveer, a natural teacher, had praised Clara for being a quick study and an ideal pupil. Now Clara realized that her schooling might well be over.
    Time seemed stretched out before Clara in a way that actually frightened her. Would she spend her days inisolation until someone carried
her
out in an old cabbage rose quilt?
    Gong!
    Clara pricked up her ears. She could have sworn she heard the doorbell ring.
    Gong!
    “There it is again,” she said, rushing down the stairs. The bell seldom rang and was so muffled it couldn’t be heard in the kitchen.
    “One moment!” she called before flinging open the door.
    A woman in a full skirt, shawl, and pearl-gray brimmed hat stood before her holding a large covered basket. “Hello,” she said, smiling shyly. “I do hope we aren’t inconveniencing you.”
    “We?” Clara said.
    A girl with blond curls stepped out from behind the woman. “Yes, we!” the girl said. “The notice of Mrs. Glendoveer’s passing was in the papers, and I told Mother we had to come by.”
    Clara couldn’t find words. Here, in front of her, was Daphne Aspinal, and yet she, Clara, stood mute as a fish.
    “Mother,” Daphne said, “this is Clara Dooley.”
    “How did you …?” Clara gasped.
    “And this is my mother, Delia Aspinal,” Daphne went on. “And I’m Daphne.”
    “Oh! I know!” said Clara. “I received your letter.”
    “May we come in?” Daphne asked.
    “Daphne!” said her mother. “We can’t impose like that.” Then, to Clara, she said, “Please accept this basket, and tell your mother the Aspinals send their condolences.”
    Clara took the basket and looked pleadingly at Daphne. “I don’t know what to say,” she told her.
    “No need to say a thing,” said Mrs. Aspinal. “Good afternoon, dear.” She picked up her skirt and turned to the street, but to Clara’s delight, Daphne stayed behind.
    “I got your