Read Online Earnest by Kristin von Kreisler - Free Book Online

lonelier without Earnest, especially after Jeff had just seen him at Dr. Nilsen’s clinic.
    Normally, at dinnertime, Earnest lay under the table and rested his chin on Anna or Jeff’s foot as if to proclaim, These are my very own humans, and nobody else can have them . Or Earnest curled up beside the stove and did his impersonation of a giant cannelloni bean, his legs tucked under and his chin pressed toward his haunch. Or he rolled on his back on the crimson bed in the kitchen corner, his legs flopped out, exposing himself in his flasher position. Though he pretended to sleep, he pricked his ears and eavesdropped on Jeff and Anna’s conversation.
    Tonight, if Anna had deigned to eat with Jeff, however, there’d have been no conversation for Earnest to overhear except JefF’s attempting to connect, followed by Anna’s shrinking further behind her Great Wall. Their conflict would have stressed Earnest, and he would have planted himself between them like a referee and waited for them to make up. Maybe it was better for him not to witness the rift, though he might have nudged Anna toward a little guilt for being unreasonable and bringing friction into their house.
    Which was no longer theirs. At least for now, it would only be hers. Jeff shook his head, bewildered.
    He refused to get discouraged, however. He had faith. Squaring his shoulders, he finished his dinner. Though worried about Earnest, Jeff whistled cheerfully so Anna could hear, and he washed his dishes and put them away. To keep Anna from starving in the bedroom, he clumped loudly into their study and opened and closed file drawers so she would know the kitchen was free. He sat at the desk, his back to the door so she could walk, undetected, through the living room. Giving her privacy for her dinner and her withdrawal into herself was the gentlemanly thing to do.
    Jeff Googled “craigslist Gamble Island, WA, apartment rentals,” and three listings appeared on the screen. Not exactly an abundant choice, but Gamble was a small place. He’d make do.
    When he glanced at the first listing’s depressing lead photo, he reminded himself that this move would be temporary. He need not be picky about where he lived. He repeated this to himself. Twice. He studied the listing.
    The photo showed an empty white room that looked like the inside of a cat carrier. The only hint of a window was a feeble streak of light on the white shag rug that had met countless parades of dirty shoes. The picture’s caption was “A Place to Call Home.” Maybe if you’re a needy cat, Jeff thought.
    The photo for the next listing showed a kitchen—a stainless steel sink, a faux wood floor, clean white appliances, natural wood cabinets. Not bad. But the caption troubled him: “GOBBLE UP THIS GREAT APARTMENT before somebody else does! Remodeled just with you in mind! But HURRY!! Don’t miss out!” Why the rush? Surely tenants were not elbowing each other out of the way to get to this ordinary place. As Jeff sensed the landlord’s desperation, wariness ridged his forehead.
    â€œSuper Cute,” the third option, required courage to consider. The photo showed a bathroom with hot-pink walls and lime-green cabinets. Gold veins ran though the cracked white tiles around the sink. Fuchsia whales with long black eyelashes swam across the moldy shower curtain. As an architect, Jeff needed harmonious colors, preferably in subtle shades. He needed taste. But the caption did promise “Location! Location! Location!”
    Jeff leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms toward the ceiling, and laced his fingers behind his head. He heard Anna rustling around in the kitchen and smelled her canned chicken soup. He’d have liked to talk with her, but he knew better than to try. Now his task was to move out. He’d be honorable about it.
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    When Jeff woke the next morning, the sun was shining on his face because he’d