Monday's Child Read Online Free PDF Page B

sleeve of his jacket. When he pulled his arm away and took a step back, she immediately closed the distance between them.
    At that, he threw up his hands, as if in exasperation, then hurried off. When he got to the front of the building, he ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and disappeared inside.
    Miss Appleton was no match for his long legs, but she followed him anyway.
    What, she wondered, had made Mr. Barry mad?
    She thought she knew. Something would have to be done about Miss Appleton.
    But not today.
    Today she was tired.
    The house was stuffy from being closed up, and Jill left the front door open after making sure that the screen door was locked. She picked up the mail that had been dropped through the slot and carried it with her into the kitchen.
    After putting the mail on the table, she went to the refrigerator to look for a snack.
    All she could find was a can of Hershey’s Fudge Topping. She took off the yellow plastic lid and used her finger to get a taste.
    The rich, slightly bitter flavor was just what she needed to quell her hunger.
    She went to get a spoon.
     
     
     

Nine
     
    Georgia fixed spaghetti for dinner, going to the trouble of shaping individual meatballs rather than simply frying the hamburger and dumping it in the sauce, but Jill ate only a few bites before asking to be excused.
    “Aren’t you feeling well?” Spaghetti was usually a favorite.
    “I’m not hungry.”
    Georgia frowned, put down her fork and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Come here, honey.”
    Jill pushed her chair away from the table and came around to stand by her side.
    “You look a little flushed,” Georgia said. She placed the palm of her hand on her daughter’s forehead, but although her color was high, the child’s skin was cool and dry to the touch. “Well, you don’t seem to have a fever.”
    “I’m okay.”
    “Hmm.” Georgia smoothed the hair back from Jill’s face, tucking the silken strands behind her ears. “Then you’re excused.”
    Jill went to take her plate to the sink.
    “But put on your slippers,” Georgia said, belatedly noticing that the girl was barefoot. “I don’t want you catching cold.”
    She finished her own dinner and started to clean up, scraping the remains off Jill’s plate into the disposal. She flipped the switch and listened to it grind, standing to one side so that if the motor decided to seize up, she wouldn’t get the back flow in her face.
    It took the disposal forever and a day to devour the spaghetti, but she couldn’t throw it in the garbage.
    In the past few weeks, the neighborhood had been plagued with dogs. No one knew where they’d come from, but there were packs of them, lean hungry-looking animals, and they got into the trash cans at night, scrounging for whatever they could find.
    She didn’t want the smell of food attracting them into the yard, especially now that they had Hoppity.
    All of which reminded her that the town council had agreed to a meeting early next week to discuss what they could do about the dogs and she wanted to call a few of her neighbors to organize a committee.
    Of course, it was the dinner hour, not the best time to be knocking on doors.
    Dinner hour. How long had it been since they’d had an old-fashioned family dinner? How long since Dave had even had dinner at home?
    Maybe she and Jill should go down to the restaurant some night and surprise him.
    For some reason, the prospect made her uncomfortable.
    She ran hot water, intending to let the dishes soak. As she waited for the sink to fill, she glanced out the kitchen window at the house across the street and was surprised to see the porch light on.
    The doctor was in town, then.
    Should she invite him to the meeting? Maybe he wouldn’t want to be bothered; although he’d bought the house some five years ago, he was seldom there.
    From what others had told her, he lived and worked in Los Angeles. Every few months he showed up in Winslow and spent a day or two at