Ledge Walkers Read Online Free PDF Page A

wondered if there was dread or excitement about moving onto the next. I also wondered if Claudia would even acknowledge it.

    "So now that we've learned there are much better things to do in gym class than badminton, let's see what we can do in our next class,” she said very calmly. “Now we move on to Art Class—"

    Anybody who knew Holly predicted the “Oh, that is so sweet!” that rushed her mouth and collided with Claudia's dissertation.

    "You, Miss Crawford,” Claudia said, wagging a finger, “will be on your best behavior this class, or it's detention for you—alone!"

    Holly's jaw dropped. Then she laughed and said, “Okay. I will. I promise."

    The resulting laughter from everyone did nothing to add any oomph to her vow.

    "Okay, who here—other than Holly, of course—has hadany occasion since being out of school to make a decoupage? Hands please."

    When no hands rose, she asked, “Paper mache?"

    No hands.

    "Shadow box?"

    Still no hands, but the natives were getting restless, and I knew they would start beating their drums. She sensed it, too, and started rattling off, “How about pictures made with glued macaroni? Popsicle stick people? Pipe cleaner animals? Pine cone ornaments..."

    For the first time in six years, I welcomed the bellman's deranged tune. I made a dash for the front door, as Claudia's list dwindled, and she said, “So did those art teachers teach usanything we needed to know to grow up to be strong, healthy women?"

    The same resounding “No!” blasted forth, just in time to impact our visitor through the opening door. His eyes shot wide open, and he froze in place.

    "Women!” I said to him. “Just come on in. It's safer than it sounds."

    He did so, somewhat reluctantly. He put a large box next to the front door, and I led him to the back of the group.

    "Makeup, ladies! They should have taught us ... the fine art of makeup and facials!"

    The whooping and hollering began, and I feared that Charles would run from the house screaming. If he did, I would go with him.

    When Claudia handed the imaginary mic over to me, I introduced him. “Everyone, this is Charles."

    I am not at all sure who started it, but a third-grade exaggeration of “Good morning, Charles” filled the room.

    "Good morning, everyone,” he said quite pleasantly.

    "Charles is a dear friend of ours,” I said, “so be nice to him. And a little hint: He does not like to be called Mary Kay, Estee, or Avon Lady, so do not do it! I warn you: He has one mean pinch."

    "Like this,” he said, taking a nasty squeeze of my thigh.

    Didn't I knowanyone who was normal?

    "Charles is going to guide us through facials and then give us some help with makeup. He's good at what he does, so trust him. This is also—hopefully—where you might need the checkbooks you were instructed to bring.
    His car is loaded with loot, so if he shows you something you like, buy it! He's just getting started on his own and needs all the help he can get."

    "Kate!” he yelled with indignation.

    "Trust me, Charles. For what you're about to get yourself into, you deserve compensation."

    As he retrieved his box, I nonchalantly went into the dining room and pulled the drapes on the sliding glass doors. Keeping them all on one task was difficult enough; chaos would ensue if there was even a hint of what was to come next.

    Charles took his place at the center of the island. He was a very handsome man in his mid-twenties, with rich black hair combed to the side and the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen. He wore a pale yellow polo shirt and crisply pressed khaki pants. With total concentration, he removed what he needed from the box and set it all on the island.

    "The first thing we need to do is strip—” he managed to say only to be abruptly stopped by confusion as many jaws dropped and all eyes riveted to him. He looked to Claudia for explanation and reassurance.

    "'Strip’ is not a good word at the moment, Charles,” she