Vi Agra Falls by Mary Daheim Read Free Book Online

with a little smirk as the cousins went back out to the deck. “She married Joe, didn’t she?”
    Judith ignored the remark. “Even if they build something decent,” she said after taking a sip of lemonade, “think of all the construction. That’s going to turn everything upside-down at the B&B. Guests don’t come to Hillside Manor to be awakened at seven in the morning by heavy trucks and concrete mixers. And don’t start me on parking places or peaceful neighborhoodstrolls, or the wretched eyesore that will be right outside our front door. Damn!” She banged her fist hard on the patio chair’s arm. “I knew Herself would bring nothing but trouble!”
    â€œYou may be exaggerating,” Renie said, trying to sound reasonable. “Both Herself and Mrs. Swanson’s houses are small, and so are their yards. They look as if they were constructed by the same builder. Is my memory failing even more than I thought, or wasn’t there a third house just like the other two?”
    â€œYou mean next to Herself’s place, where the Ericsons live?” Judith nodded. “Yes. They tore that one down about the same time I moved back home after Dan died. But Ted Ericson is an architect, and although their home is more modern, he was able to hurry along the builders and the rest of the workmen. Our house and the Rankerses’ are the two oldest ones in the cul-de-sac. They were put up about the same time, almost a hundred years ago. As I recall, the homes where the Porters and the Steins live were built in the mid-twenties, or even a little later. But none of our houses seem out of place, at least now that I’ve gotten used to the Ericsons’ sharp angles and so much glass. They’ve fenced in their front yard, and all their plantings have matured to soften the appearance.”
    â€œYes,” Renie agreed. “The exterior has weathered well, too.”
    The cousins sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching a hummingbird zip from the camellia bush to the cedar tree and taking in the view to the east, where the mountains were silhouetted against the bright blue sky. The Joneses’ lot was a block wide, with their garage on the street that ran past the back of the house.
    â€œSomeday,” Renie said ruefully, “this house will be a teardown, too. The double lot is probably worth more than the house. Worse yet, I assume this block is zoned for condos, since we’ve already got them across the street out front.”
    â€œBut they’re rather modest in size,” Judith pointed out. “I’ll bet Herself will put in a swimming pool.”
    â€œAnd fill it with gin?” Renie grimaced. “Don’t look for trouble, Coz.”
    â€œI try not to,” Judith said in woeful tone, “but I have a feeling it’s coming my way.”
    Renie didn’t argue.
    Â 
    W hen Judith got home later that afternoon, she went over to see Arlene and Carl. They were in the backyard, sitting under an old pear tree and watching their Boston terrier, Tulip, chase a tennis ball.
    â€œWell?” Judith said. “Do you know anything more than what Joe passed on to me?”
    Arlene shook her head. “I went to see Mrs. Swanson after Cathy called me about the house sale. Unfortunately, Mrs. Swanson was on her way to her daughter’s to make plans about the move. Then I tried to call on Vivian. We’d gotten a letter for someone at that address. A substitute carrier left it in our mailbox.” She frowned. “Is that Spanish girl’s last name Agra?”
    â€œShe’s not Spanish,” Judith replied, “she’s Hispanic, and her last name is Vasquez. Nobody named Agra ever lived at that address.”
    Arlene shrugged. “With the post office, who knows? Anyway, this girl who looks like she might be Spanish told me that her employers had gone to an appointment about the sale. I don’t