Last Summer with Maizon Read Online Free PDF

said skeptically.
    â€œThen it’s going to be a grocery store for rich people who want clean streets,” Maizon said, concentrating on her i.
    Margaret looked up at her window. People had been upstairs for hours eating and laughing and talking about what a good man her father had been. She wanted to take a nap. But there were even people in her bedroom!
    â€œMaizon, let’s go to your house.”
    â€œWhy?” Maizon frowned. “All the good food is in your house.”
    â€œBut there are too many people there, and I’m tired.”
    Maizon looked puzzled for a moment, then agreed. “Me too,” she said. “It’s too hot out here, anyway.”
    They walked down the quiet block, past the one tree on Madison Street. Margaret stopped.
    â€œMaizon, remember when we were little and we couldn’t go past this tree? So we’d meet here.”
    â€œAnd then I decided to call it the compromise spot,” Maizon said proudly.
    â€œBecause it’s the same distance from both our houses.” Margaret smiled, looking at the tree as though she were seeing it for the first time. “That seems like forever ago.”
    â€œYeah.” Maizon moved closer to the tree. “Hey, Margaret, check this out,” she said, pointing to the spot on the tree where she and Margaret had dug a hole and stuck a branch in, two years before. “The branch is gone.”
    Margaret peered into the hole.
    â€œMaybe a bird used it for her nest.”
    â€œYeah,” Maizon said. “Maybe.”
    They continued down the street. Maizon undid the latch on the heavy black gate in front of her house and rang the bell.
    â€œMaizon, use those keys!” her grandmother called from inside.
    Maizon pulled two silver keys out of her sock and smiled at Margaret. She unlocked the two locks on the walnut-brown door. It creaked open with a whine. Margaret followed her into the cool, dimly lit vestibule that led to the kitchen.
    Maizon’s grandmother stood at the counter, her back to them. Margaret grabbed Maizon’s hand and put a finger to her lips. “I want to watch her for a moment,” she whispered.
    Maizon’s grandmother’s skin was warmed with gold. “She’s Cheyenne Indian,” Maizon had bragged. “That makes me an Indian princess, almost.” Her silver hair was French-braided and pinned at the nape of her neck. Her shoulders shook as she sprinkled cinnamon onto rolls, and she was humming softly. She stopped suddenly.
    â€œDon’t I get a greeting or a kiss? You two act like spies, coming into my kitchen not saying anything.” She turned and flashed a smile. Her teeth were small and even. Maizon had said they were false but Margaret didn’t care. The smile was real.
    â€œHi, Grandma,” Margaret said.
    â€œMargaret wanted to watch you,” Maizon tattled.
    Margaret followed Maizon over and waited her turn for one of Grandma’s kisses. She loved kissing Maizon’s grandmother because she always held you tightly afterward like it had been ages since she’d last seen you and ages before she’d see you again.
    â€œYou seem to be getting along just fine, Margaret. I am so sorry about your daddy,” Maizon’s grandmother said, holding Margaret. “Oh, but the funeral was beautiful, wasn’t it? Just beautiful. I sure will miss him.”
    â€œMargaret just wishes everyone would leave her house already!” Maizon said, going over to the refrigerator and looking for something to drink.
    Grandma turned and frowned at Maizon. “Cat got Margaret’s tongue? Let her do her own talking. Put those rolls in the oven for me.”
    â€œYes, ma’am!” Maizon saluted her grandmother.
    â€œIf your mother wasn’t having such a hard time, I’d ask her to trade kids with me. This one here is just too smart for her own good!”
    They laughed.
    â€œSo how long has it been, Margaret,