Read Online A Stillness of Chimes by Meg Moseley - Free Book Online Page B

another.
    “It’s a dandy little workshop too. Elliott would have been green with envy, boy.”
    Boy . Dale always used the word with contempt. For Gary, it was just part of his genial, I-love-everybody attitude.
    Sean shot him a quick look, realizing he’d spoken of Elliott the way a sane person would—as if he was a dead man. “Still think the rumors are bunk, Gary?”
    “Absolutely. Do you know if Laura’s heard them yet?”
    “I told her, just yesterday. She didn’t know what to think.”
    “It’s a tough time for her.” Gary shook his head. “So … Ardelle’s timing is lousy, but she wants to invite both of you to our grandson’s birthday party. Trevor turns five next week, and she’s throwing a party on Saturday night.”
    “Party hats and pin the tail on the donkey? That kind of party?”
    “No, thank God. Tigger’s throwing a kids’ party on a different day. This is the one where the grandparents pick the menu and overindulge the kid in stuff he doesn’t need. Cassie’s in town, and I’m sure she’d love to see both of you.”
    “Drew didn’t come?”
    “No, just Cass. She’s laid off, actually, and she … she wanted some timewith the family.” Gary looked away for a moment, frowning into the sun, then smiled at Sean. “You know you want to come.”
    “Sure I do.”
    “You and Laura don’t mind hanging out together?”
    “I don’t, anyway.”
    “All right, then. You can expect an official invitation soon, probably via her.”
    “Great.”
    But the sympathy on Gary’s face made Sean wonder if the whole world could see his heart on his sleeve. He supposed they all knew why he hated birthdays.
    Shrugging it off, he opened the back door and waved Gary into the kitchen. “Sorry I didn’t clean up the mess. I didn’t know you’d be available so soon.”
    “This isn’t a mess. It’s progress.” Nodding with satisfaction, Gary looked around the half-painted kitchen, cluttered with tools, masking tape, and cartons of tile to go on the floor later. He chuckled at the crayon scribbles on the walls—“The last owners really left their mark, didn’t they?”—and cast a critical eye at the cupboard door that had sagged since Sean was a kid.
    “Gotta fix that,” Sean said.
    “All in good time. You can’t fix everything at once.” Gary wandered into the living room, where light streamed in through bare windows.
    Heavy drapes had covered the windows sixteen years before, when social workers stopped by unannounced. When Dale moved to the state pen for a few years, he’d probably been exposed to more sunshine than he’d ever allowed in his own home.
    Sean ran his fingers over the smoothness of the newly painted wall.When he was eight or nine, his mom wanted to get rid of the ugly, outdated wallpaper. She’d pulled off only one narrow strip before Dale stopped her. It stayed that way for years, a jagged ribbon of off-white in a room where everything else was dark: wallpaper, carpet, furniture, drapes. The house had its first breath of fresh air when the bank foreclosed on it and sold it to the Clawsons, who sold it to the family of wall-scribblers. Sean bought it in February, with Gary acting as broker. They used the same bank that had foreclosed on Dale’s loan.
    Elliott had been a surrogate father, but Gary was like an uncle. He’d offered plenty of practical help through the years, including cash, but he never let Dale get wind of it. Gary had said he didn’t want to be paid back. Pass it on to someone else, he always said. Pay it forward.
    Gary continued his walk-through, checking out the bedrooms and the bathrooms too, and returned to the kitchen. “It’s a pretty little house, and it’s solid. Seems premature to sell, though. Except for the workshop, you’ve barely started the renovations.”
    “The workshop had to come first.”
    “Now you get to the rest of the house and you … what? Decide it isn’t worth the trouble?”
    “When I was a kid, I dreamed