Read Online Minerva Clark Gives Up the Ghost by Karen Karbo - Free Book Online Page A

off and call my boyfriend. She sometimes talked about my brothers with their short attention spans, but they had inherited them from her. She was worse than a ferret—obsessed to death about one thing until a minute or two later she was obsessed about something else.
    Finally a tall blond man in a white apron came out from the back, wiping his floury hands on his chest. His hair was the same color as the snickerdoodles, and he wore it in a small ponytail. His face was long and pale,his hands were long and pale, everything was long and pale, like an elf from one of Mark Clark’s video games.
    â€œSo hey,” I said, “when are you guys moving?”
    â€œMoving?” he said. He scratched his head, then wrapped his arms around his skinny middle. I could tell he didn’t know what I was talking about.
    â€œI saw the sign. In the window.”
    â€œOh, right!” He smiled. His front teeth overlapped. “Not sure. Was supposed to be next month, but now we’re just not sure. Can I get you something?”
    â€œIsn’t that where the Corbett Street Grocery is? At 222 Southwest Corbett?”
    â€œWhere what is?”
    â€œWhere you’re moving?” Adults could be so irritating. They always got on you about the tone of your voice, never stopping to think that if they weren’t so annoying, you wouldn’t be forced to give tone. Either Mr. Elf-Man was just the baker and really didn’t know anything, or he was hiding what he knew, and why would he do that?
    â€œYou’d have to ask Paisley,” he said. “She’ll be in tomorrow.”
    I thanked the baker, then scooted out the door and into the heat. I could feel his curious stare on my back.
    I’d beat cheeks out of there not a moment too soon. Mark Clark and Mrs. Dagnitz walked out of the soap store just as I walked out of the pastry shop.
    Mrs. Dagnitz stopped. “Weren’t you going to Starbucks?”
    â€œI thought they’d have one in there,” I said. “It was closer.”
    â€œThe Starbucks restrooms are always so nice,” said Mrs. Dagnitz. “They’re so reliable. They always have a nice piece of art and plenty of toilet paper.”
    â€œThis one was fine,” I said. Why did I bother to say anything?
    â€œYou should stick to the Starbucks,” she said. “It’s a known entity, and known is always better than unknown.”
    I shut up. I fell into step behind Mark Clark. We continued our search for gelato, which I didn’t even want anymore. Didn’t Mrs. Dagnitz know anything about me? That for me, now, the unknown was better? Or at least more interesting? There are three gelato shops on Twenty-third, but only one of them was acceptable to Mrs. Dagnitz, for some reason I didn’t listen to, something to do with one hundred percent organic something, or recycled whatnot. But the acceptable gelato shop didn’t have any gelato that day because their refrigeration was broken. We drove home with all the windows rolled down. Mrs. Dagnitz had an attack of guilt over using the air-conditioning because it contributed to global warming. I was all for it. Doing our part to keep the polar ice caps good and frozen meant it was too loud to talk, which meant too loud for Mrs. Dagnitz to talk. Her wedding reception was on Saturday. Because I knew I would feel too guilty, I keptmyself from counting the hours and days until she cut her second second-wedding cake and would go home to Santa Fe.
    Kevin showed up on his bike just as I was finishing the dishes. We’d had leftover halibut (yuck!), which I’d snuck to Ned, praying to St. Francis of Assisi that there would be no bones. Did dogs choke on bones like people did?
    Through the window over the sink I saw Kevin fly up the driveway on his little bike. Usually, just the sight of Kevin made my internal organs feel as if they were part of a dolphin show, flipping and spinning. But not when I saw