Read Online Death by Surprise (Carolyn Hart Classics) by Carolyn Hart - Free Book Online
Authors: Carolyn Hart
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thinned, her shoulders bowed.
I frowned. Amanda was too old for this kind of evening. My God, all of us were coming. That meant dinner for . . . I counted them up in my mind . . . dinner for nine. I heard the chatter of voices, light and deep, and the chink of glasses from the drawing room. Mother, of course, still had a drawing room.
“Amanda, who’s helping you tonight?”
She looked a little surprised. “Jason. He’s going to wait tables.”
Jason was her cousin and almost as old as she.
Dinner for nine and all the cooking and cleaning up that would entail.
“I’ll bet you’ve been working since early this morning.”
For just an instant, her shoulders sagged, then she said quickly, “It’s all right, Miss K.C. And it’s so nice to have everyone home again, even if it’s only for a little while.”
I slipped off my coat and she reached out to take it.
“I thought Dad set up an annuity for you, Mandy. You always said you were going to retire to a cabin out at the lake and spend the mornings fishing and the afternoons rocking on your front porch.”
“Oh now, Miss K.C.,” she chided, “you know your momma can’t find anybody to take my place. Nobody wants to live in anymore. I’ll take care of her for as long as I can because your poppa did everything for me. He put my Rudolph through school. If it wasn’t for your poppa, Rudolph wouldn’t be a doctor today.”
Maybe not, but was Amanda supposed to pay for that for the rest of her life? And I wasn’t surprised that Grace couldn’t find anyone to take Amanda’s place. Who wanted to work from dawn to dusk with only Thursday afternoons and Sundays off? The market for exploited servants is slim these days.
Grace was taking advantage of Amanda. Amanda knew it, too, but she was busy satisfying a debt that didn’t exist. Dad wouldn’t have expected Amanda to work forever just because he helped Rudolph. And, God knew, helping Rudolph was little enough to do for the sturdy little woman who kept our home running for all those years.
“Miss K.C.!”
“Yes.”
“You don’t say nothin’ now to your momma. She has problems of her own. I tell you, Miss, she is all upset about something.”
“That is no reason for you . . .”
“You hush now.” Amanda looked at me sternly. “You are too young, Miss K.C. You see everything as so simple. Sometimes, it isn’t so simple. Old Amanda knows what she has to do. You don’t need to fret.”
She looked so much like a little dark cat with fluffed fur that I grinned in spite of my resolve. Amanda was right. I did have a tendency to want to run everything, which isn’t an altogether attractive trait. One I had picked up from Grace, perhaps?
I leaned down, hugged Amanda again and felt her body relax. “Don’t worry, you old workaholic, I’ll mind my own business.”
But, as I walked down the central hallway toward the drawing room, I couldn’t help judging the amount of work it took to keep this place going. Amanda used to have two full-time girls to do the cleaning. Did she still? I would check on that. Whatever Mother’s problems, they didn’t include money. She could certainly afford help for Amanda and I intended to make sure Amanda received it.
The house is a relic, a huge, energy-wasting, magnificent survivor of the time when every oil baron built for posterity. It is, as suits Northern California, a Spanish hacienda with immense cool dark rooms, a fountain in the central hallway and wide stone stairs leading up to the second and third floors. Fourteen bedrooms and a ballroom complete the upper stories.
The centerpiece of the drawing room is a fireplace with tiles from Taxco and a redwood mantel. Above the mantel hangs a Goya.
I paused in the wide doorway. Little clusters of my kin dotted the room.
Kenneth and Megan stood near the fireplace listening courteously to Travis. Travis’s wife, Lorraine, watched, a skeptical expression on her face. Lorraine and Travis were, in my view, an
I frowned. Amanda was too old for this kind of evening. My God, all of us were coming. That meant dinner for . . . I counted them up in my mind . . . dinner for nine. I heard the chatter of voices, light and deep, and the chink of glasses from the drawing room. Mother, of course, still had a drawing room.
“Amanda, who’s helping you tonight?”
She looked a little surprised. “Jason. He’s going to wait tables.”
Jason was her cousin and almost as old as she.
Dinner for nine and all the cooking and cleaning up that would entail.
“I’ll bet you’ve been working since early this morning.”
For just an instant, her shoulders sagged, then she said quickly, “It’s all right, Miss K.C. And it’s so nice to have everyone home again, even if it’s only for a little while.”
I slipped off my coat and she reached out to take it.
“I thought Dad set up an annuity for you, Mandy. You always said you were going to retire to a cabin out at the lake and spend the mornings fishing and the afternoons rocking on your front porch.”
“Oh now, Miss K.C.,” she chided, “you know your momma can’t find anybody to take my place. Nobody wants to live in anymore. I’ll take care of her for as long as I can because your poppa did everything for me. He put my Rudolph through school. If it wasn’t for your poppa, Rudolph wouldn’t be a doctor today.”
Maybe not, but was Amanda supposed to pay for that for the rest of her life? And I wasn’t surprised that Grace couldn’t find anyone to take Amanda’s place. Who wanted to work from dawn to dusk with only Thursday afternoons and Sundays off? The market for exploited servants is slim these days.
Grace was taking advantage of Amanda. Amanda knew it, too, but she was busy satisfying a debt that didn’t exist. Dad wouldn’t have expected Amanda to work forever just because he helped Rudolph. And, God knew, helping Rudolph was little enough to do for the sturdy little woman who kept our home running for all those years.
“Miss K.C.!”
“Yes.”
“You don’t say nothin’ now to your momma. She has problems of her own. I tell you, Miss, she is all upset about something.”
“That is no reason for you . . .”
“You hush now.” Amanda looked at me sternly. “You are too young, Miss K.C. You see everything as so simple. Sometimes, it isn’t so simple. Old Amanda knows what she has to do. You don’t need to fret.”
She looked so much like a little dark cat with fluffed fur that I grinned in spite of my resolve. Amanda was right. I did have a tendency to want to run everything, which isn’t an altogether attractive trait. One I had picked up from Grace, perhaps?
I leaned down, hugged Amanda again and felt her body relax. “Don’t worry, you old workaholic, I’ll mind my own business.”
But, as I walked down the central hallway toward the drawing room, I couldn’t help judging the amount of work it took to keep this place going. Amanda used to have two full-time girls to do the cleaning. Did she still? I would check on that. Whatever Mother’s problems, they didn’t include money. She could certainly afford help for Amanda and I intended to make sure Amanda received it.
The house is a relic, a huge, energy-wasting, magnificent survivor of the time when every oil baron built for posterity. It is, as suits Northern California, a Spanish hacienda with immense cool dark rooms, a fountain in the central hallway and wide stone stairs leading up to the second and third floors. Fourteen bedrooms and a ballroom complete the upper stories.
The centerpiece of the drawing room is a fireplace with tiles from Taxco and a redwood mantel. Above the mantel hangs a Goya.
I paused in the wide doorway. Little clusters of my kin dotted the room.
Kenneth and Megan stood near the fireplace listening courteously to Travis. Travis’s wife, Lorraine, watched, a skeptical expression on her face. Lorraine and Travis were, in my view, an
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