Eden Hill Read Online Free PDF Page A

Cheshire cat, and the man from Zipco was practically dancing on the tables.”
    “So?”
    “Why am I the only one who isn’t happy?”
    “Because you’re expecting?”
    She turned away and paused for a long time. “No, because I should have expected something like this.”

    Virgil stood up and stepped to the doorway, where he could look across the road, scratching at his chin. A new sign was nailed over the old one.
    COMING SOON   —
ZIPCO SUPER SERVICE STATION
    Virgil was a practical man, not given to worry, and especially not prone to excitement. He did note, however, that his coffee cup was upside down and empty. He’d poured the contents down the front of his trousers. Again.
    Virgil refilled his mug, then entered his small office off the storage room and took a seat. He had run Osgood’s since he and Mavine married back in ’48. A simple but sturdy concrete block building, the business featured a single gasoline pump in the front. Osgood’s sold only regular gasoline, a sensible motor fuel. Anyone fool enough to own a car that needed premium would just have to buy his gasoline somewhere else.
    He’d never bothered with a name brand. The gasoline he sold was just fine, and as far as he was concerned it was Osgood’s. Old crazy Sam Wright used to say that Virgil made the fuel himself in a copper still, just like moonshine. The old men who played pinochle on the porch at Stacy’s Grocery claimed Virgil bought it secondhand from someplace in Louisville. Always good for a laugh. At any rate, he pumped it with a smile and checked every customer’s oil. Over time he’d added Reddy-Start batteries, Safe-T-Made tires, and most importantly his mechanic, Welby. But it was still a service station, without frills and without apology. After all, it was Osgood’s.
    He stood up and stepped to the doorway, where he could look across the road. What was he so worried about? Whatever was going to be built in the vacant lot across the street, he could handle it.
    Probably.

    For the first time in a week, Mavine felt like her life was under control. The first load of clothes was clean, wrung out, and hanging to dry on the porch. The smell of bleach, whiledistasteful, meant that Virgil’s white undershirts and socks would be clean and presentable. Vee’s jeans and plaid shirts were still grinding away in the Maytag, waiting for rinsing and a trip through the wringer. She’d turned the radio on, with the volume up loud enough to drown out the chugging of the washing machine.
    She had begun working in the kitchen and listening to Swap ’n’ Shop on WNTC when Virgil came home for lunch. He slammed the door hard, which made the plates in the dish drainer rattle while she was trying to hear the phone number for the woman with the Encyclopedia Americana for sale. It was “. . . missing volume 1, A–Annuals, used very little.” Fortunately, the announcer repeated it, since the seller also had “. . . a crystal punch bowl and a wedding gown, size twelve.” The caller had choked up a little when describing the last item. Even twelve years old, the encyclopedia would be a good buy for Vee’s school reports, and as long as he stayed away from papers on aardvarks and John Adams, he’d be just fine. She made a note on the small memo pad she kept next to the telephone.
    “Your hamburger will be ready in a minute.” She sniffed the smoke rising from the cast-iron skillet. Almost done. “Mayonnaise is in the refrigerator.”
    “Mavine, we’ve got ourselves a problem.” Virgil had parked himself in his usual seat at the end of the dinette. He hadn’t stopped for the mayo.
    She froze as last Monday’s conversation once again filled her mind. A problem? Gladys had said much the same thing when she and George were getting ready to separate. HadVirgil actually read the article as he said he would? Maybe he’d talked to Welby about it. And might he have the wandering eye that Dr. LaMour said all men get? Surely