Terrible Tide Read Online Free PDF Page A

the ignition key.
    “Here, let me.” Cawne took the key from her and slid behind the wheel. To nobody’s surprise, the engine purred obediently at his first try.
    “There you are, ladies. Not at all. My pleasure.”
    He smiled away their thanks and gave Fan a gallant boost into the driver’s seat. “I do hope I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you again while you’re here, Miss Howe.”
    “Come to dinner tonight,” Fan said to her own evident surprise. “Don’t ask me what you’ll get to eat, but we’ll manage something.”
    “I’m sure it will be delightful.” Cawne looked as if he meant it. “What time would you want me?”
    “Could you make at quarter to seven? We keep early hours now that we’re country folks.”
    “A quarter to seven is exotically late for Jugtown. My housekeeper will be impressed. See you then.”
    He waved and turned off toward the shops. Fan put the truck in gear, looking a trifle blank.
    “Whatever possessed me to do that? I was planning to go back and get the rest of that paneling. Now we’ll have to stay and clean house.”
    “You go for the boards and I’ll do the cleaning,” Holly offered, glad of the excuse to dodge another vandalizing expedition. “It’ll be good training for my new career.”
    “You sure do have rotten luck,” Fan sympathized in her own fashion. “Just when an interesting man shows up, you go and stick yourself out at Cliff House, where they don’t allow visitors.”
    “Thanks, Fan. You really know how to cheer a person up. What shall I cook for dinner?”
    They talked housekeeping the rest of the way back, except for a minor squabble when they passed Cawne’s driveway. Holly wanted to turn in for a closer look at the house. Fan was anxious to fix Roger’s lunch and hustle herself back to the walnut mine. Fan won.

Chapter 4
    “R OGER MUST HAVE A customer!”
    Fan got a momentary charge out of seeing an almost-new station wagon parked in the yard. To her chagrin, the visitor turned out not to be a wealthy Yank making a pilgrimage to the master’s workshop but Bert’s nephew looking for a job.
    “That’s an expensive car,” she fussed. “This Sam must charge a mint for his work. I hope Roger doesn’t commit himself to paying so much for the carving that we wind up making zilch out of the furniture. Maybe I’d better go in there.”
    “Hadn’t we better put the groceries away instead?” Holly thought that was more tactful than saying, “Why don’t you mind your own business and let Roger mind his?”
    Fan brushed her off. “You said you’d do the housework.”
    So much for tact. Holly picked up two of the grocery bags and lugged them into the house. If Fan chose to barge into the workshop and throw her weight around, that was between her and Roger. What a relief it would be not having to be caught up in this situation twenty-four hours a day.
    Claudine needn’t have bothered warning her that Cliff House was run down. It couldn’t be worse than Howe Hill. The house had never been modernized. Perishables still had to be lugged down to the cellar because there wasn’t any fridge. Canned goods and other staples had to be stacked on the pantry shelves because Roger hadn’t got around to building cabinets. Oil lamps had to be cleaned and filled, cooking done either on the cranky wood-burning range or else on a frightening little two-burner gasoline camp stove. Holly was trying to get up nerve enough to light it when Fan burst through the back door.
    “Holly, he’s asked him to lunch! Now what are we going to do?”
    “Open another can of soup, that’s all. Nobody expects a banquet at lunchtime.”
    “Jugtowners do. It’s breakfast, dinner, and supper up here.”
    “Then I’ll fry some eggs and make hashed browns out of those potatoes left from last night. Light the stove for me, then go fix your face. If they come in before we’re ready, I’ll offer them whiskey and cheese.”
    “Roger oughtn’t to drink in the daytime.