Read Online Dark Plums by Maria Espinosa - Free Book Online

showed her the new canvas on his easel: a woman with two heads, four arms, and four legs, like an Eastern deity in brilliant hues of orange, red, purple, green, black, and yellow.
    â€œAdrianne, this is for my show. Did I tell you the Harris Gallery is giving me a one-man show in October? It’s a real break for me.With any luck, I’ll sell enough work to quit my job,” He drew her close. “I might even be able to support two people.”
    Her heart pounded as she thought that he must truly care about her. He was haggard; there were hollows under his eyes and lines in his face that she had never before noticed, and she realized for the first time what a strain he must be under. “You need to sleep,” she said. She reached out and stroked the stubble on his gaunt face.
    â€œMake me a cup of that Japanese tea by the stove, will you,
preciosa
?”
    While he slept, she tidied up the loft and swept the floor. Later she washed the dishes in the sink, and she even cleaned what she could of the thick dust and bits of plaster from the ceiling which covered everything. Although she was exhausted, a sense of peace came over her as she worked. Pausing, she looked at Alfredo and watched his regular breathing. His face was peaceful. His lean body was curled up like a child’s.
He trusts me
, she thought, and this gave her comfort.

C hapter 10
    One morning the phone rang at the rooming house while she was still in bed. She heard Max pad down the hall in his slippers and answer. Then he pounded on the door. “It’s for you.”
    â€œWho is it?”
    â€œSomeone named Lucille.”
    Adrianne stretched, rubbed her eyes, and put on her robe, tying the sash tightly around her. As she passed Max in the hall he brushed against her. Ignoring this, she picked up the phone.
    â€œAdrianne, at last I’ve found you!” cried Lucille at the other end. “Why haven’t you written to me? I finally got your address and phone number from your mother. I’m here in New York, at the Plaza Hotel for two weeks. Can you come and visit me today?”
    Adrianne hesitated because Alfredo might call. “I may have to work tonight.”
    â€œCome for lunch then.”
    After she hung up, Max planted himself in front of her. Adrianne could hear the landlady and one of the other roomers, a Chinese student, talking in the kitchen. The landlady’s elderly, matter-of-fact voice contrasted with the sing-song English of the student.
    â€œAdrianne, for days now you avoid me. I must talk with you.” He looked unhappy.
    â€œMax, I just don’t have time right now. I’m sorry.” She felt cruel, speaking to him this way.
    As she rode the crosstown bus and then a Fifth Avenue bus downtown, she wondered why Lucille had come to New York. The strangers around her in this midday heat seemed like shadows, except for their sweaty smells and raucous sounds. How different these voices were from the slower ones of south Texas, and from Lucille’s. Across the aisle sat an old black woman in a cotton housedress, shiny with sweat. Adrianne thought the woman seemed to radiate a dull reddish aura of pain. She looked as if she mopped the floors of skyscrapers at night. At the 72nd Street stop, the woman opened hereyes an instant to look sullenly at her before an onrush of passengers blocked her from Adrianne’s view.
    Adrianne’s memories of Lucille mingled with those of Gerald. She remembered the night she had first met Lucille. She and Gerald had gone to a party at Lucille and Barney’s house. Lucille’s husband, Barney, was a self-made millionaire, and Adrianne had been impressed with the elegance of the mansion and the guests. Unaccustomed to hard liquor, nevertheless she had three drinks to cover up the disturbance she felt because Gerald had never before ignored her like this, and he was openly flirting with other women at the party. A tall and handsome doctor, with his