Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 03 - The Recorder's Way Read Online Free PDF

Costello’s immaculate living room, Helen Costello’s mother pumped Mrs. Clapton for information about the future groom.
    Mrs. Clapton smiled endlessly at Max, as if modeling for a toothpaste commercial.
    In the dining room, Helen paged through stacks of bridal magazines with the daughter of her mother’s high-school acquaintance. The younger women faced the living room, where their mothers were talking with Max.
    The matrons in matching chairs on each side of the fireplace faced Max whose largeness was distributed across most of the love seat’s cushions. He resembled an over-sized teddy bear come to tea with delicate china dolls. Helen searched her mother’s face. Julia Costello’s hands were steady as she handed the delicate china cup-and-saucer to Max and the toothy Mrs. Clapton.
    No speck of dust, no newspapers, shoes or sweaters were allowe d to rest in her mother’s house, especially not in the white-carpeted dining room and visitors’ parlor. Even the family room’s shiny wood floors brooked no mess for long. The fireplace tiles sparkled a day after a cozy fire as they had the day before.  Every stray item was returned to its proper place, and every inappropriate emotion hidden. The only time Helen heard her father complain about her mother’s compulsive cleaning was when she threw away notices for plays and concerts as she opened the mail.
    Julia Costello did allow storage of important items. All of Helen’s prom dresses were cleaned and kept in individual hanging fabric bags. However, after each style season, Helen was required to justify why each piece of clothing in her closet and dresser drawers should be kept for the following year. If her mother couldn’t remember seeing her wear a particular outfit, the entire ensemble was sent to Purple Heart, as were books which would not be read a second time.
    The work of constant upkeep occurred whenever Helen and her father were out of the house. Nevertheless, Helen recognized the sustained effort housekeeping, or homemaking required. The paraphernalia necessary to embark on a single life even in an apartment boggled her mind. Raising children couldn’t be contemplated because of the sheer enormity of the work involved. Supposedly, children just happened to most people as if caught unaware as a hurricane or tornado approached their lives.
    If Helen moved out of her parents’ home, where would she store her collection of dollhouses? The twenty-five diminutive homes decorated in furniture spanning decades from the 15 th through the 21 st centuries, lined her bedroom walls and the upstairs hallways. She would need an extra bedroom for the multitude of miniature abodes. Helen spent an inordinate amount of time justifying her present status as an unmarried daughter satisfactorily living at home.
    He r mother entertained not at all. Except for church functions, Julia Costello didn’t keep up with people in town. No grandparents on either side of the family, no aunts or uncles added to their small family. For a detective, Helen realized she knew nothing about the cause of her mother’s social isolation. Maybe she’d been raised to be a recluse, too.
    Helen asked Mrs. Clapton’s daughter, Millicent, “A June wedding?”
    Millicent rubbed her reddening nose. “A year from now. Mother insists you will take that long to secure a man’s background.”
    “Is his family questionable?”
    “I don’t know.” Millicent sniffed. “ He’s so beautiful!” She lowered her eyes to whisper, “I’d like to lick the sweat off his back.” She straightened in her chair, rubbing her palms down the thighs of her slacks. “He plays tennis at the club. Swims there too.”
    “Millicent,” pink-haired Mrs. Clapton called. “Come join us.”
    Before Helen replenished the tea service with more cucumber sandwiches, she wondered who she should inform the girl was in lust, not love.
    Instead , she heard Max tell Mrs. Clapton, “We provide a wealth of information for our