The Voice of the Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

said.
    “When?”
    “When you’re ready.”
    “When will that be?”
    “When I say you are.”
    “jeez.”

5

    Colin’s mother came home from work at five-thirty.
    He was waiting in the cool living room. The furniture was all shades of brown, and the walls were papered in burlap. Wooden shades covered the windows. The lighting was indirect, soft and easy on the eyes. It was a restful room. He was on the big sofa, reading the latest issue of his favorite comic book, The Incredible Hulk.
    She smiled at him, ruffled his hair, and said, “What kind of a day have you had, Skipper?”
    “It was okay,” Colin said, aware that she didn’t really want the details and would gently cut him off when he was halfway through the story. “What about your day?” he asked.
    “I’m pooped. Will you be a love and mix me a vodka martini the way I like?”
    “Sure.”
    “Twist of lemon.”
    “I wouldn’t forget it.”
    “Of course you wouldn’t.”
    He got up and went into the family room, where there was a well-stocked wet bar. He couldn’t stand the taste of hard liquor, but he mixed her drink quickly, with professional skill; he had done it hundreds of times.
    When he returned to the living room, she was sitting in a large chocolate-brown chair, her legs tucked under her, head laid back, eyes closed. She didn’t hear him coming, so he stopped just inside the doorway and studied her for a moment.
    Her name was Louise, but everyone called her Weezy, which was sort of a kid’s name but which suited her because she looked like a college girl. She was wearing jeans and a short-sleeve blue sweater. Her bare arms were tan and slender. Her hair was long, dark, shiny; and it framed a face that Colin suddenly thought was pretty, really quite beautiful, although some people might say the mouth was too wide. As he looked at her, he began to realize that thirty-three was not really old, as he’d always thought.
    For the first time in his life, Colin was consciously aware of her body: full breasts, narrow waist, round hips, long legs. Roy was right; she had a terrific figure.
    Why didn’t I ever notice it before?
    He answered himself at once: Because she’s my own mother, for God’s sake!
    Heat blossomed in his face. He wondered if he was turning into some sort of pervert, and he forced himself to stop looking at her well-filled sweater.
    He cleared his throat and went to her.
    She opened her eyes, lifted her head, took the martini, and sipped it. “Mmmmm. Perfect. You’re a sweetheart.”
    He sat on the sofa.
    After a while she said, “When I got into this thing with Paula, I didn’t realize that the owner of a business has to work harder than the employees.”
    “Was the gallery busy today?” Colin asked.
    “We had more people in and out of there than you’d find in a bus station. This time of year you expect a lot of browsers, tourists who don’t really intend to buy anything. They figure that because they’re vacationing in Santa Leona they’re entitled to a few free hours of each shopkeeper’s time.”
    “Sell many paintings?” Colin asked.
    “Surprisingly, we sold quite a few. In fact, it’s the best day on record.”
    “That’s great.”
    “Of course, it’s just one day. Considering what Paula and I paid for the gallery, we have to have a lot more days like this if we’re going to keep our heads above water.”
    Colin couldn’t think of anything more to say.
    She sipped her martini. Her throat rippled slightly when she swallowed. She looked so dainty and graceful.
    “Skipper, can you make your own supper this evening ?”
    “Aren’t you eating at home?” he asked.
    “The shop’s still very busy. I can’t leave Paula alone this evening. I just came home to freshen up. Much as I dread the thought of it, I’ll be going back to the grind in twenty minutes.”
    “You’ve only been home for supper once in the past week,” he said.
    “I know, Skipper, and I’m sorry about that. But I’m trying