The Summer's End by Mary Alice Monroe Read Free Book Online

expense.” Seeing Mamaw open her mouth to object, Harper pushed on, “No arguments. Consider it rent. And tuition for the cooking classes that I’ll be getting from you and Dora.”
    Harper noticed the confused look on Mamaw’s face and changed the subject. “Enough about the kitchen. Let’s do something fun today. What would you like to do?”
    â€œOh, I feel a bit tired. I might lie down after lunch.”
    Harper came closer and her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “Perhaps after dinner we could play cards.”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œAll of us. You, me, Dora, and Carson. Like we used to.”
    Mamaw rallied. “Oh, that would be nice. All right, dear. But”—she looked around the disarray in the kitchen—“what should I do about fixing our lunch?”
    â€œYou don’t have to do a thing.” Harper hugged her. “I’ll order something. You just relax and I’llget this mess all tidied up in no time.”
    Mamaw cast a final glance at the trash bag filled with the old and worn aluminum pots. Useless. Outdated, and ready to be tossed out.
    Like her. She turned and walked slowly from the room.

Chapter Three

    B y midafternoon, Harper had finally finished scrubbing the kitchen. All she had to do now was put all the dishes in boxes and store them until after the paint job. She pushed back a wayward lock of red hair from her brow as she surveyed the room. Her back ached from bending, her manicure was ruined, and she was covered from head to toe with dirt and spills. Hard work, yes, but she was enjoying herself. In an odd way, by cleaning Sea Breeze she was developing an even deeper bond with the old house. As though each scrub were a caress. Each stroke of the broom on the floor made the house somehow hers. It didn’t make sense, but it was how she felt.
    She leaned against the counter and thought back to when she was twenty-two and spending the summer in England with her grandparents before entering Cambridge’s postgraduate program. Greenfields Park was an imposing house in the countryside with a manicured lawn in front, expansive flowergardens in the back, and a kitchen garden close to the house. Farther out on the property was the orchard. She remembered the cherry and apple trees heavy with fruit and how raspberries ripened in profusion. The gardens were a delight.
    Inside, however, the house was somber. Large rooms with fine plaster and wood rococo decoration were filled with well-formed antique furniture that had been passed down in the James family for generations. There wasn’t a comfortable chair to be found where one could curl up and read a book. Harper wanted to feel an attachment to the house, knowing full well that it was her grandmother’s dream that she marry an Englishman and settle down at Greenfields Park.
    That same summer Granny James had initiated her campaign to introduce Harper to eligible young men from good families. Knowing that Granny James liked to prettify her house with bunches of fresh flowers in every room, Harper had gone out to the garden to pick some and make a surprise bouquet for her. Harper had been enjoying herself when she was chased away by the head gardener, politely of course. Later, in her bedroom, she’d moved the furniture to her liking, only to return from an outing to find the furniture put back in its original locations. Much like the household staff, her grandmother had also disapproved whenever Harper tried to cook or do some simple housework. “Best to leave that be,” Granny James had advised. “Betty gets quite upset if we mess her kitchen.” Harper found the house more a museum than a home, and though she appreciated its beauty, she never felt comfortable there. It was the same in her mother’s house in the Hamptons, and even their apartment in New York. Though Harper lived in the gorgeous postwar apartment overlooking Central Park, shenever thought of it as