Read Online Memorymakers by Brian Herbert, Marie Landis - Free Book Online

assumed his most benign expression. “I’m not a stranger. Your mother and I had a nice conversation yesterday.”
    “She’s not our mother,” Emily answered. “She doesn’t like us to use that word.”
    As she let the caterer in, Emily recalled Mrs. Belfer’s statement that the only safe males in the world were under twelve years of age and puny. Mrs. Belfer commented often that she hated men and had no interest in them, but Emily suspected otherwise. Once, when the intercom didn’t operate, Victoria had sent Emily to Mrs. Belfer’s room. The housekeeper’s quarters were crowded with heart-shaped lace pillows, and scattered across her bed were assorted paperback books with lush, juicy titles such as Golden Passions, Island of Desires, and The Lust of Louise.
    It was best to let the salesman in. If Victoria had asked the man to stop by and talk to Thomas and Emily refused to answer the door, Emily didn’t want to think about the consequences.
    With a briefcase, conservative dark suit, white shirt and sedate tie, the caterer resembled a banker or an accountant. One pocket of his suit bulged a little, and Emily recalled the peculiar pipe he had stuffed into his tweed jacket the day before. The pipe had a little animal face like a weasel, with ferocious eyes. It seemed clearer to her now than when she had actually been looking at it.
    “I’m Mr. Squick,” he said, and latched his briefcase.
    “Our housekeeper could talk with you,” Emily said. “But I’d rather not disturb her.”
    “Mrs. Belfer goes to bed early,” Thomas said. “She’s old—forty-seven, I think. She wears a red wig that slides around on her head when she walks, and you can see darkish hair under it.”
    “I don’t want to waken her,” Squick answered, and he stepped inside and closed the door.
    The house changed.
    Emily wondered if Thomas felt it. An odd sensation, as though something had been shuffled about, moved from its familiar position. The feeling was ice-cold and prickled the back of her neck. She looked about the hallway and saw everything in its proper place: the narrow bench with coat hooks on it, the pickle-finish side table with a Tiffany lamp, the paintings to each side on the walls. Still, the agitation on Emily’s neck remained. The order of the house had been disturbed.
    “I’m afraid we won’t be of much help to you,” she said.
    Squick moved a little closer to the children. “Oh, but you will! So many details you can help with. You want to participate in the party, too, don’t you, Emily?” He looked at the boy and added, “Say, that’s a great T-shirt. Mind if I call you Tom-Tom? It’s easier to talk to someone when you know their nickname.” He patted Thomas’s cheek.
    “Emily printed it,” said Thomas. “With a waterproof marking pen. Our stepmom hates this shirt.”
    “I see you’re wearing it anyway.”
    Thomas beamed.
    “It’s the way children assert independence,” Squick said. “A necessary step.”
    Thomas’s smile weakened. He looked puzzled.
    “Adults always want you to do things their way, right?” Squick asked. “Never realizing you’ve got a mind of your own.” He paused a moment. “I’d like to see your room, Tom-Tom. It will reveal the things you like, give me ideas for the entertainment. All right?”
    “Okay,” Thomas said, and led the way down the hallway to his room.
    As Emily followed, she recalled that long ago she had decided Thomas had the disposition of a puppy. He loved everyone, missed people too much. Like he’d trusted his friend Booger, a boy who picked his nose in class and drew realistic skulls on his forearms in red ink. Booger was a square-faced boy who wore his hair parted in two places. He smashed Thomas’s toys, the toys that Thomas shared with him, because Booger enjoyed smashing things. Toys or people, it made little difference to Booger.
    Her brother could calculate complicated mathematical problems, could read and understand his father’s