Nora and Liz Read Online Free PDF Page A

rusty nail holes.
    “I can’t decide,” Georgia said as they went up the fieldstone path to the granite slab that formed the front stoop, “if it would be better to leave these stones as is or scrub the moss off. What do you think?”
    “Leave them as is,” Liz said gruffly. “In fact”—she turned, her key already poised to open the door—“I’d like to be the one to decide what to leave and what to change.”
    “Yes, of course.” Georgia cast her eyes down, subdued. “I didn’t mean…”
    “Ms. Foley,” Liz began, “I…”
    “Georgia, please. And I am sorry. I know this must be hard for you. Why don’t I leave and come back another time? Will you be in town for a few days?”
    “Yes,” Liz said, but she realized she wanted to get showing the house to Georgia over with as soon as possible. “I will. But you might as well come in now, since you’re here. I’ll be staying on afterward by myself, though. I could call you later to discuss repairs.”
    “Certainly. But, oh, dear, I do feel I’m intruding!”
    “And,” Liz made herself admit magnanimously, “I feel I’ve been rude.” She forced a smile. “Let’s start again, shall we?” She held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Liz Hardy. It’s so nice to meet you, to put a face to the voice on the phone.”
    “Ditto, ditto!” Georgia seized Liz’s hand heartily, with more strength this time, and pumped it vigorously. “What a charming place this is! I just know someone’s going to love it and snatch it right up. In fact, as I said, someone’s already interested, a nice man, a teacher like you, as it happens.”
    Liz gave her what she hoped was a dazzling smile and unlocked the front door.
    The odor of five years’ worth of dust, mouse droppings, and cobwebs assailed her nostrils, shot through with the unmistakable stench of decaying animal flesh. Liz, with a quick glance at the stained yellowish linoleum on the kitchen floor (for the “front” door opened into the kitchen), went rapidly through to the living room/dining room and without thinking turned to the fieldstone fireplace, for that was where the bodies usually were. Squirrels came down the chimney and then couldn’t get out again. Sometimes they chewed at the windowsills and died there, but this one hadn’t; she spotted the limp body immediately, near several small skeletons that were nestled in what was left of their rotting gray fur.
    “I’ll just clean these up,” she said, brushing back past Georgia into the kitchen, where she took the metal dustpan and its cobwebby black brush from their hook behind the door along with a plastic bag (later she was surprised there still were some) from the squeaky drawer under one end of the sink counter. Stooping, she swept up the squirrel leavings. It was only after she’d put the bag outside that she noticed Georgia hadn’t moved and that there was a look of frozen horror on her face.
    “It’s all right,” Liz said, suddenly sorry for her. “After spending every summer here as a kid I’m kind of used to country messes. My dad used to pay me and my brother a quarter for each mouse body and fifty cents for each squirrel every spring when we opened up. Well,” she went on, throwing her arms expansively out from her sides, surprised to find that cleaning up the squirrel bodies had cheered her, “this is it!”
    Georgia swallowed hard, as if fighting nausea, and moved quickly to the bank of windows that lined the wall facing the lake. “What a marvelous view!”
    “Yes, isn’t it? Although it needs clearing, a bit.” Every year she and Dad, and later Jeff as well, had snipped and pruned and trimmed while Mom watched from inside the house, directing them, warning them not to cut too much, battling good-naturedly with Dad’s desire to have a clear, unobstructed view to the lake. Mom wanted the cabin to remain “nestled in the trees,” as she put it, “camouflaged by them. Our own tree house.” That had been Dad’s suggestion