Antiques Maul Read Online Free PDF Page B

wanting to cross, and the pressure mounted. In my mind the Jaws theme played counterpoint to the Jeopardy final round music.
    Teeth bared, eyes glittering, Mother said, “ Now! ”
    But I exclaimed, “No!”
    Then, several long moments later, Mother and I both yelled “ Now ,” and I hit the gas…. Whether the decision was a good one or a bad one, at least we’d made it together.
    And you thought life in a small heartland community lacked in excitement.
    Nearly across, I was feeling relieved, until a car horn blasted and brakes squealed. I looked in my rearview mirror to see a figure in a pickup truck giving me a high five, the one-finger variety.
    I guess I hadn’t allowed for the U-Haul.
    I sank down in my seat and said to nobody, “Sorry….”
    Mother sniffed, “Serves him right. He was going too fast, anyway.”
    Probably, but that would have been a small consolation had we been hit.
    Dusk had fallen, or crept in or sneaked up or however it gets here, and a huge harvest moon popped up on the horizon like a big orange Necco wafer as our little caravan pulled into the Mark Twain housing addition. As soon as we had made the turn, Sushi knew where she was—don’t ask me how, doggie radar, I guess—and she began to shimmy and shake with excitement. We rumbled down Aunt Polly Lane, went left on Tom Sawyer Drive, then right on Becky Thatcher Road, and finally arrived at Peggy Sue’s modern monstrosity of a house on Samuel Clemens Court.
    Get back to me, if you sense a theme here….
    I pulled into the long driveway and parked in front of the first of the Hasting household’s three garages. As Mother opened her car door, Sushi jumped out (blindness be hanged) and began running and sniffing all over the thick, green grass. There wasn’t a lawn anywhere that she liked to pee and poop on better than Peggy Sue’s, much to my sister’s dismay.
    I, however, had made sure Soosh was running on empty before we’d left home, and it was comical to see the darling trying to squeeze out even one little chocolate drop to mark her return—much as I hated to spoil her fun.
    From the car I gathered up Sushi’s pink bed, and a tote bag containing her special dog food, insulin, and syringes, and followed Mother up the curved walkway, which was lined with colorful fall mums. The wonderful, smoky smell of burning leaves wafted toward me. The leaf-burning ban was restricted to inside the city limits—which was designated by the bypass; the ban was partly in consideration of those afflicted with asthma, but mostly due to an old couple who accidently burned their house down.
    Bob opened the front door as if he’d been poised there waiting for us.
    Mother gave her son-in-law a cheerful “Hello!” and brushed past him, stepping into the house; her level of interest in Bob was minimal, because somebody as cheerfully self-centered as Mother doesn’t have much left in the gas tank for a mere in-law. I, however, stopped short, startled by Bob’s appearance, although I hope I didn’t show it.
    Peggy Sue’s husband looked thinner than usual, face more gaunt, with less hair on his head than I’d remembered, and suddenly seemed way older than his fifty-plus years. Unless Bob was recovering from a recent bout with the flu, my brother-in-law was in desperate need of a vacation.
    I gave him a hug with my usual greeting, “Hi, handsome…what’s new with you?”
    He grinned, showing some of his old spark. “Not much…work, work, work….”
    The two of us had a nice, comfortable rapport due to our mutual standing: We were both at the mercy of my sister.
    “You should get some extra help at the office,” I scolded.
    He shrugged good-naturedly. “That’s a problem.”
    “Yeah? Why?”
    “I’d have to pay them.”
    “Generally how it works,” I returned, while keeping an eye on Sushi, who was navigating the front stoop.
    Bob shook his head and grinned, changing the subject. “That dog’s amazing…she remembered every