Read Online Finding Grace by Becky Citra - Free Book Online

paper. I try some lotion from a glass container and test the taps, which gush with steaming hot water.
    When I come back into the room, Mom is flipping through a skinny yellow phone book. “There’s no Donnely in here. There are only a couple of pages for Harrison Hot Springs. And there’s no Donnely.”
    For a second, I don’t know what Mom’s talking about. Then I remember that Donnely was the last name of Sharon, the nurse who adopted Grace. I guess I just thought that Grace’s last name would be King, like mine.
    â€œWhat does that prove?”
    Mom sighs. “Nothing. I suppose the great-aunt could have a different last name. Her name would be listed in here, not Grace’s.”
    Mom kicks off her shoes and lies on the bed. I plunk down at the desk and examine the contents of the drawer. There’s a black Bible, cream paper with Harrison Hot Springs Hotel written in fancy writing at the top, envelopes, a pen, and a book filled with pages about the hotel.
    â€œThere’s two pools, one inside and one outside,” I report to Mom as I flip through the book. “The indoor pool is sulfur and you can drink sulfur water every day if you want – UCK! – and you can have something called a massage salt rub. And there are movies on Friday nights, and they serve tea every afternoon in the lounge. It says it’s complimentary.”
    â€œThat means it’s free,” Mom says.
    I keep reading. “You can borrow bicycles. And, oh, there’s a menu here and – HOLY TOLEDO – you can get food sent to your room!”
    Mom winces. “Don’t shout. It’s called room service. All good hotels have room service.”
    â€œAre you serious? Do you think it’s complimentary? Can we order something?”
    â€œNo.”
    Mom doesn’t sound too good. Her voice has brittle edges. When she gets like this, I’m sometimes afraid she’s going to shatter into a thousand pieces, like a piece of glass, and disappear.
    â€œIt’s not complimentary,” Mom says, “and we’re not having it. I made all those sandwiches and I packed you an apple, too. You can take a dollar out of my purse. Now hush and close the curtains. I’m going to stay here for a while.”
    A dollar! That’s four allowances!
    There are two gold cords with tassels to pull that make the curtains glide shut. Neat-o. The curtains are made out of really heavy material and the room is dark now. I feel around in Mom’s purse for a dollar bill and then slip out the door.
    I whisper, “See you later,” but if Mom hears me, she doesn’t answer.

    â€¢ • • • •

    I’m dying to explore the hotel. I wander up and down the long hallways and get lost twice before I figure out where everything is.
    I find the indoor pool first, which is in a big steamy room that smells like boiled eggs. The water is pale green and when I dip my hand in it feels as hot as a bath. There’s no one in it except for a man with a big round belly, like a beach ball, who is floating on his back in the shallow end.
    I venture down some more hallways and then a sign leads me to The Copper Room. I peer through a doorway into a dining room with tables set with white cloths and glistening silver.
    There’s a gleaming piano that looks like it’s made out of copper. It’s as shiny as a mirror. And there’s a round polished wooden floor that I bet is for dancing. I get this crazy idea to take my running shoes off and slide around in my socks when a man with a tray of glasses comes through a doorway at the back of the room. I give him a small wave and disappear.
    Back in the lounge, the afternoon tea is over. All the guests have left except for a woman reading in the corner and two little girls in bathing suits and bathrobes playing cards at a round table. I manage to grab a leftover piece of yellow cake with gooey icing just as a teenaged