Read Online Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper by Judy Clemens - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Judy Clemens
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indicated the laundry basket. “Thought I’d get this started, if that’s okay.”
Lillian left the cat. “Of course. Right through here.”
She led Casey through the living room—a huge flat-screen TV set incongruously on the far wall, amongst Victorian furniture—into a sunny room at the back of the house. Painted yellow and surrounded by large, uncovered windows, the room pulsed with life and light. A door led to the outside and stood open, letting in the cool afternoon air. Casey blinked at the brightness.
“Everything you need is above the washer in this cupboard.” Lillian opened a little door to reveal various bottles and jugs. “Use whatever you like.”
“Thank you.”
Casey waited for Lillian to leave, but the older woman sat on a small chair in the corner. Casey set her basket on top of the dryer and began tossing her clothes into the washer, the silver HomeMaker symbol on the glossy white finish catching her eye.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Lillian said. “With Rosie.”
Casey stopped, a shirt in her hand. “Like I said before. Nothing to be sorry about.” The shirt joined the rest of the clothes in the washer.
“This past week has been very difficult for her. For the whole town, of course, but Rosie’s taken it very hard, and she tends to wear her heart on her sleeve.”
“Were she and Ellen close?”
Lillian didn’t respond, and Casey turned to see her staring out one of the windows, her hands clenched in her lap. Casey went back to sorting.
“We offered to keep the children, you know,” Lillian said. “Ellen’s parents aren’t in the best of health, and we have plenty of room. But everyone thought it better if the kids weren’t…if they were with their own family.” Her voice was brittle.
Casey finished up with the darks, measured out the detergent, and began the cycle. “Eric VanDiepenbos—do you know him?—was pretty close to her.”
Lillian’s head jerked away from the window. “Oh. Oh, yes, poor boy. He’s had a hard time of it all. We had hopes… But with his family being what it is, there wasn’t much chance of anything happening.”
Casey opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but Rosemary bustled by the windows of the room and burst in the door with a handful of flowers. “For our table. Aren’t they lovely?”
Lillian’s face lit up. “They are. Let’s go find a vase.”
And Casey’s chance for questioning was gone. She followed the women into the kitchen, where Lillian was pulling a vase out of the china cupboard.
“I’m going to take the bike downtown, if that’s okay.”
Rosemary looked up from her flowers. “Of course, dear, you go right ahead. It’s in the shed out back. The door handle sticks a little, so you have to jiggle it.”
“Thanks.”
Casey actually had to jiggle the handle quite a bit to get the door open, but she eventually won the struggle. The bike, an old Schwinn three-speed, sat enmeshed in cobwebs and trinkets, and she had to work to rescue it from what looked like the detritus of many years. Perhaps from before these women had even owned the place.
By the time she had the bike in the yard she was smeared with grease and dust, and spidery silk clung to her clothes. She left the bike in the shade and went back inside.
“Oh, my,” Lillian said.
“Yes. Would you have a rag I could use?”
Rosemary laughed. “And a bucket for soapy water. You’ll find everything you need in the garage.”
“Not the same shed?”
“No. We actually use the garage. Just go in the side door.”
Casey followed her directions and went into the garage. She flipped on the light. And stood staring at the shiny Pegasus Orion. One of those supposedly hybrid SUVs, huge on promise, not so big on follow-through. Twice as big as the company’s cars. Black, with brand new tires and not a speck of dirt, the SUV squatted there, like a predator. Casey pressed back against the door. In all of her dreams, she’d never have thought those
Lillian left the cat. “Of course. Right through here.”
She led Casey through the living room—a huge flat-screen TV set incongruously on the far wall, amongst Victorian furniture—into a sunny room at the back of the house. Painted yellow and surrounded by large, uncovered windows, the room pulsed with life and light. A door led to the outside and stood open, letting in the cool afternoon air. Casey blinked at the brightness.
“Everything you need is above the washer in this cupboard.” Lillian opened a little door to reveal various bottles and jugs. “Use whatever you like.”
“Thank you.”
Casey waited for Lillian to leave, but the older woman sat on a small chair in the corner. Casey set her basket on top of the dryer and began tossing her clothes into the washer, the silver HomeMaker symbol on the glossy white finish catching her eye.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Lillian said. “With Rosie.”
Casey stopped, a shirt in her hand. “Like I said before. Nothing to be sorry about.” The shirt joined the rest of the clothes in the washer.
“This past week has been very difficult for her. For the whole town, of course, but Rosie’s taken it very hard, and she tends to wear her heart on her sleeve.”
“Were she and Ellen close?”
Lillian didn’t respond, and Casey turned to see her staring out one of the windows, her hands clenched in her lap. Casey went back to sorting.
“We offered to keep the children, you know,” Lillian said. “Ellen’s parents aren’t in the best of health, and we have plenty of room. But everyone thought it better if the kids weren’t…if they were with their own family.” Her voice was brittle.
Casey finished up with the darks, measured out the detergent, and began the cycle. “Eric VanDiepenbos—do you know him?—was pretty close to her.”
Lillian’s head jerked away from the window. “Oh. Oh, yes, poor boy. He’s had a hard time of it all. We had hopes… But with his family being what it is, there wasn’t much chance of anything happening.”
Casey opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but Rosemary bustled by the windows of the room and burst in the door with a handful of flowers. “For our table. Aren’t they lovely?”
Lillian’s face lit up. “They are. Let’s go find a vase.”
And Casey’s chance for questioning was gone. She followed the women into the kitchen, where Lillian was pulling a vase out of the china cupboard.
“I’m going to take the bike downtown, if that’s okay.”
Rosemary looked up from her flowers. “Of course, dear, you go right ahead. It’s in the shed out back. The door handle sticks a little, so you have to jiggle it.”
“Thanks.”
Casey actually had to jiggle the handle quite a bit to get the door open, but she eventually won the struggle. The bike, an old Schwinn three-speed, sat enmeshed in cobwebs and trinkets, and she had to work to rescue it from what looked like the detritus of many years. Perhaps from before these women had even owned the place.
By the time she had the bike in the yard she was smeared with grease and dust, and spidery silk clung to her clothes. She left the bike in the shade and went back inside.
“Oh, my,” Lillian said.
“Yes. Would you have a rag I could use?”
Rosemary laughed. “And a bucket for soapy water. You’ll find everything you need in the garage.”
“Not the same shed?”
“No. We actually use the garage. Just go in the side door.”
Casey followed her directions and went into the garage. She flipped on the light. And stood staring at the shiny Pegasus Orion. One of those supposedly hybrid SUVs, huge on promise, not so big on follow-through. Twice as big as the company’s cars. Black, with brand new tires and not a speck of dirt, the SUV squatted there, like a predator. Casey pressed back against the door. In all of her dreams, she’d never have thought those
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