The Silver Glove Read Online Free PDF Page B

“I’ve been with a delightful male companion, and it’s somebody you know already.”
    Well, of course at that point I knew, all right. Window-shopping! For what, a new Claw?
    I tried ignorance anyway, on the off chance that I was wrong: “I know him?” I said. “From where?”
    She brought out some cheese and ham and took a bite of each. “Can’t you guess?” she said. “Valli, darling, why didn’t you tell me that the new school psychologist is such a sweet, smart, caring man?”
    â€œBecause he isn’t!” I yelped. “And he’s got a face like a—like a bulldog!”
    Mom looked hurt. “Since when have you thought that looks were everything?”
    â€œHe’s too old for you,” I said. “Come on, he is a lot older than you are, isn’t he? He told us he was old, in assembly.”
    She blushed. It was awful. “Well, maybe he is—I didn’t ask to see his birth certificate. I didn’t know you were so conservative, Valli.”
    â€œI’m not, I’m just trying to tell you—you can’t —how can you stand him? He’s a creep !”
    She flinched, which made me feel awful. But I was desperate.
    She recovered her poise, though her voice got an edge on it as she went along. “Look, I know it’s against the unwritten code for a mother to get involved with a staff member at her kid’s school. But you’d better face it, love, and learn to live with the crushing embarrassment as best you can.”
    I was now more alarmed than ever. Mom only gets sarcastic with me when she’s defending something really important to her. “What do you mean, involved?” I said.
    â€œHe seems like a very nice man,” she said, and she got a plate and sat down to start some serious chomping. “He gave up a substantial chunk of his free time to me today.”
    â€œWhat did you talk about?” I said, remembering what I’d heard over the radio at Kress’s. What would her version of that awful, smarmy conversation be?
    â€œAbout you, of course, but lots of other things, too: life, and the state of the world, and publishing, and how hard it is to go into business for yourself. I told him a little about striking out on my own as a literary agent. He’s had two books published, did you know that? They don’t know how lucky they are at that smug little school to have a man of his caliber on their staff. For once I feel as if the price of sending you there is justified.”
    She was so caught up in all this that she had poured herself a glass of milk instead of her usual Perrier.
    I said, “You’re going to see him again?”
    â€œAs soon as possible.” Then she gave me a long look, and she said, “You’re really upset, aren’t you? Look, darling, I’m as worried as you are about Gran, but for the first time I’ve found someone who seems to have a sense of what I’ve been going through. Besides you, of course.”
    â€œYou talked to Brightner about Gran?” I said, feeling totally betrayed.
    â€œWell, of course.” Abstractedly she gulped down the milk and blotted her mouth on a dish towel. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I guess I forgot. What a strange coincidence—your Dr. Brightner turns out to be the same person whose letters I have in my desk offering to include Granny Gran in his Alzheimer’s study up in Buffalo. I thought the name was familiar.”
    What a coincidence! But what could I say? That I’d listened to part of their conversation on Mr. Kress’s radio while Brightner’s Claw—that thing had to be his—tried to nab me and haul me off into never-never land? Well, you can imagine how that would go down. I could, too, so I didn’t even try. But I was sure that if only I could get through to Mom I could save us all a load of grief.
    I compromised. I said Brightner was a