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Authors: Nicole Young
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opposite Crandall this week.”
I hated to tell her I’d never heard of Crandall.
“In the meantime, it’s good that your uncle Denton is a generous provider.” Her voice became sharp. “Though he’s not nearly as generous as his father was.”
Ms. Rigg turned red and her eyes bugged out. “Be careful, Jane. The professor is under no obligation to support you.”
“I see no reason he should support me at all.” Jane’s lips toyed in false thought. “Why, it’s my own inheritance he doles out to me in such very stingy portions.”
I tried to follow along. “Oh? He’s the executor for your estate?” I had a hard time imagining Jane as Denton’s ward.
A twitch of Jane’s eyebrow. “We share the same father,” she said. “Dennie is legit, so he got the money, while I, the illegitimate daughter, was conveniently left out of the will.”
Ms. Rigg’s face spasmed. “Jane, dear. I’ve told you again and again the ambassador was not your father.”
A wave of her hand. “Honestly, Mother. I figured it out by five years old. I’m sure Lenore Braddock did too. That explains why she hated me so much.”
Ms. Rigg’s trembling fingers tapped across her lips. “No, no. She didn’t hate you. She let us stay. She had a million reasons to throw us out, but she never did.”
“My point, exactly. As long as she kept you in her snooty little sight, she knew you wouldn’t go blabbing that the ambassador slept with an Irish barmaid. Nothing but an unspoken form of bribery.” Jane gave a roll of her eyes. “The things the bored and wealthy will do to uphold their reputations.”
An uncomfortable silence descended.
I swung my arms, hoping to get myself moving. “Uhh,” I pointed toward the fridge, “I’m just going to grab a little snack. It was very nice to meet you, Jane.”
I dipped into some cottage cheese as Ms. Rigg and her daughter hightailed it out of the kitchen, Jane laughing like a mischievous seven-year-old as her mother dragged her by the elbow. I leaned against the counter as I ate, detoxing from my crazed climb up the cliff and the equally crazed conversation that followed. Jane dear didn’t strike me as a sugar-and-spice kind of girl. There seemed to be a little more naughty than nice to that woman. I set down my fork and peered through my tote again. The fact that everything was accounted for didn’t ease my suspicions.
Shrugging, I finished my snack. Under the circumstances, I probably couldn’t help but be a tiny bit suspicious of everybody. After a quick cleanup, I slung my tote over my shoulder and headed upstairs.
9
I met Team B at the worksite at 8:00 Wednesday morning. Portia had come up with a detailed schedule that would theoretically allow us to attend our other classes and still finish the project on time and in style.
Today was marked “Demolition Day” on the calendar. “Grab a hammer,” Portia said as I walked in. Koby and Celia apparently hadn’t arrived yet.
“Hello to you too.” I dug through a toolbox, picking out a mini-sledge. Bold orange letters on the handle marked it property of DGC. The Revamp Program supplied the tools and materials for the project. The students provided the labor and know-how. But when it came to imagining a timely completion, I just didn’t know how it was going to happen.
Overwhelmed, I sighed. We’d just have to take things one day at a time. A narrow staircase took me to the second story. Cracked and bowed plaster covered the walls. I snapped a dust mask over my face, slid on a pair of safety glasses, and whaled away with my sledge. My neck jarred with every blow. Muscles in my back flexed and stretched. My heart raced and my ears rang as I lost myself in the mindless battering. An hour or more passed with barely a letup. I’d be sore tomorrow, but nothing beat the feeling of accomplishment that would come when all the walls were bare.
One final swing and I stopped for a break. I sat on the top step and leaned against an
I hated to tell her I’d never heard of Crandall.
“In the meantime, it’s good that your uncle Denton is a generous provider.” Her voice became sharp. “Though he’s not nearly as generous as his father was.”
Ms. Rigg turned red and her eyes bugged out. “Be careful, Jane. The professor is under no obligation to support you.”
“I see no reason he should support me at all.” Jane’s lips toyed in false thought. “Why, it’s my own inheritance he doles out to me in such very stingy portions.”
I tried to follow along. “Oh? He’s the executor for your estate?” I had a hard time imagining Jane as Denton’s ward.
A twitch of Jane’s eyebrow. “We share the same father,” she said. “Dennie is legit, so he got the money, while I, the illegitimate daughter, was conveniently left out of the will.”
Ms. Rigg’s face spasmed. “Jane, dear. I’ve told you again and again the ambassador was not your father.”
A wave of her hand. “Honestly, Mother. I figured it out by five years old. I’m sure Lenore Braddock did too. That explains why she hated me so much.”
Ms. Rigg’s trembling fingers tapped across her lips. “No, no. She didn’t hate you. She let us stay. She had a million reasons to throw us out, but she never did.”
“My point, exactly. As long as she kept you in her snooty little sight, she knew you wouldn’t go blabbing that the ambassador slept with an Irish barmaid. Nothing but an unspoken form of bribery.” Jane gave a roll of her eyes. “The things the bored and wealthy will do to uphold their reputations.”
An uncomfortable silence descended.
I swung my arms, hoping to get myself moving. “Uhh,” I pointed toward the fridge, “I’m just going to grab a little snack. It was very nice to meet you, Jane.”
I dipped into some cottage cheese as Ms. Rigg and her daughter hightailed it out of the kitchen, Jane laughing like a mischievous seven-year-old as her mother dragged her by the elbow. I leaned against the counter as I ate, detoxing from my crazed climb up the cliff and the equally crazed conversation that followed. Jane dear didn’t strike me as a sugar-and-spice kind of girl. There seemed to be a little more naughty than nice to that woman. I set down my fork and peered through my tote again. The fact that everything was accounted for didn’t ease my suspicions.
Shrugging, I finished my snack. Under the circumstances, I probably couldn’t help but be a tiny bit suspicious of everybody. After a quick cleanup, I slung my tote over my shoulder and headed upstairs.
9
I met Team B at the worksite at 8:00 Wednesday morning. Portia had come up with a detailed schedule that would theoretically allow us to attend our other classes and still finish the project on time and in style.
Today was marked “Demolition Day” on the calendar. “Grab a hammer,” Portia said as I walked in. Koby and Celia apparently hadn’t arrived yet.
“Hello to you too.” I dug through a toolbox, picking out a mini-sledge. Bold orange letters on the handle marked it property of DGC. The Revamp Program supplied the tools and materials for the project. The students provided the labor and know-how. But when it came to imagining a timely completion, I just didn’t know how it was going to happen.
Overwhelmed, I sighed. We’d just have to take things one day at a time. A narrow staircase took me to the second story. Cracked and bowed plaster covered the walls. I snapped a dust mask over my face, slid on a pair of safety glasses, and whaled away with my sledge. My neck jarred with every blow. Muscles in my back flexed and stretched. My heart raced and my ears rang as I lost myself in the mindless battering. An hour or more passed with barely a letup. I’d be sore tomorrow, but nothing beat the feeling of accomplishment that would come when all the walls were bare.
One final swing and I stopped for a break. I sat on the top step and leaned against an
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