Marianne, the Magus & the Manticore Read Online Free PDF Page A

door. Someone turned the knob and Marianne heard Mrs. Winesap's voice.
    "Girl? I heard you coming in. Someone brought you a pretty."
    Mrs. Winesap was addicted to slightly regional speech, the region in question varying from day to day so that Marianne was never sure whether the woman was from the South, West, or New England states. On occasion, Mrs. Winesap's speech approached an Elizabethan richness, and Marianne thought the true source of her changing accent might be overdoses of BBC
    period imports.
    "Mrs. Winesap. Come on in. What is it?"
    "Crocuses," the woman replied. "In a pretty pot. A man brought them. I was out front, and he came along looking lost, so I asked him who he was looking for. After he told me they were for you, we got to talking. I thought at first he might be your brother, there being a family resemblance and my eyes not being that good. Then I knew that was silly, your brother being the kind of person he is and all."
    Marianne had never discussed Harvey with Mrs. Winesap that she could recall, and her attention was so fixed on the gift that she completely missed the implications of this statement.
    Mrs. Winesap often seemed to know a great deal about Harvey or, perhaps more accurately, knew a great deal about people and things that affected Marianne.
    "The man who brought these is... he's a kind of cousin, I guess, Mrs. Winesap. I met him today. It was nice of him to be so thoughtful." The crocuses were precisely as she had visualized them, purple ones, in a glazed pot of deepest, persian blue.
    "Same name as yours, so I guessed he was some kind of kin," commented Mrs. Winesap. "Anyhow, he left the flowers with me after he made me promise six times I'd see you got them as soon as you got home. Seemed like a very determined sort of person. You got something cold to drink, Marianne? I been moving that dirt out back, and it's hotter'n Hades for April."
    Marianne hid a smile as she went to the refrigerator. It was true that Mrs. Winesap was a bit dirt-smeared, and also true that she was largely responsible for the emerging order in the garden, but it was not even warm for April, much less hot.
    Mrs. Winesap simply wanted to talk.
    "Larkin bought an edger at the flea market. Paid a dollar and a half for it. Want to go halfies?" This was rhetorical.
    Mr. Larkin would present Marianne with a written bill for seventy-five cents, which Marianne would pay without demur.
    Sometimes Marianne believed that the two downstairs tenants suspected Marianne owned the place and were playing a game with her. Other times she was sure they had no idea. Whatever their suspicions or lack thereof, they had decided that garden maintenance was to be their particular responsibility, and that the upstairs tenant should pay what they delighted in calling
    "halfies." Since the expenditures never exceeded two or three dollars at a time, Marianne managed to cope.
    "An edger?" she asked.
    "You know. A flat blade on a handle, to cut the grass straight where it comes along the flower garden. It was all rusty is how come he got it so cheap. You know Larkin. Give him something rusty and he's happy as a clam all day cleaning it up. Does your brother know this cousin of yours?"
    As usual with Mrs. Winesap's more personal inquiries, the question caught Marianne completely by surprise and she answered it before she thought. "No. I just met him today myself."
    "Ah," said Mrs. Winesap with deep satisfaction. "So you'll have to call your brother and tell him about it. About meeting a new relative and all."
    The emotion Marianne felt was the usual one, half laughter, half indignation. Her response was also the usual one: dignified, slightly cool. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I was just going to call Harvey, Mrs. Winesap. Take that soda along with you. I do need to catch him before he leaves for the evening...." Polite, firmly shutting door behind her visitor, Marianne fought down the urge to peer through the keyhole at the landing in fear she might