Read Online Petals on the Pillow by Eileen Rendahl - Free Book Online
Authors: Eileen Rendahl
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there.” Betsy chewed her lower lip. Kelly ignored the slight whine in Betsy’s tone. Whatever the little girl’s problems were with her father’s assistant had nothing to do with Kelly. “Big deal. So will I. Besides, what could Kendra possibly have against the idea of an aviation mural?”
“Yeah, you will be there.” The grin reappeared. Betsy took Kelly’s hand and started walking again. “What supplies do we still need?”
“I need to make sure somebody actually got all the things on the list I sent a couple weeks ago. And some other stuff, like old sheets for keeping the floor and furniture protected, some rags, a few buckets—all things Mrs. Jenkins probably has laying around.”
Betsy picked at the banister around the rotunda while Kelly stopped to peer at a painting that took up most of the back wall of a recessed alcove. “Why didn’t you just have Jenkins or some body do all the stuff you’re doing now? Anybody could patch cracks and put on a coat of primer.”
“Hmm,” Kelly murmured, her nose still pressed to the glass. “ I know, but not everybody would do it just the way I want it. If I do it myself, I’ll be able to make sure it’s done right. I also won’t have anyone else to blame if something goes wrong. Christ! This thing’s filthy.”
Kelly blew a small puff of breath at the frame. A tiny mush room cloud of dust rose up in front of her face. She sneezed. “When was the last time someone dusted these things?”
Betsy shrugged and grabbed Kelly’s hand. “Dad cut down on Mrs. Jenkins’ day help a while back. He said we didn’t need to keep the place like a showroom anymore.” She yanked on Kelly’s hand again. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”
Kelly let Betsy drag her along, but gestured back to the little alcove. “Some of that stuff is gorgeous. I’d really like to see what’s under that layer of dust.”
“Yeah. Yeah. They’ll still be here, still be gorgeous and still be filthy after we get something to eat. You can look at them when I’m not about to faint from hunger.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little over-dramatic?”
“No. I think we didn’t take a break for lunch.” Betsy rolled her eyes and kept tugging on Kelly’s arm. “And trust me, nobody is ever dramatic around this place. Everything here is reasonable and logical and incredibly boring.”
No sooner were those words out of Betsy’s mouth than a muffled male voice raised in anger split the habitual silence of Hawk Manor. Betsy froze in her tracks right outside the doors to Harrison’s office with Kelly right behind her.
“No. I will certainly not sign this ... this ... thing!” the voice bellowed again, this time more clearly. “What are you trying to do, Harrison?”
Betsy’s eyes grew wide. “It’s Uncle David,” she whispered. “But he and Daddy are fighting. They never fight.”
“Uncle David?”
The girl nodded, held her finger to her lips and began tip toeing backwards. “He hasn’t been here in months,” she whispered. “I don’t think we should be here. Daddy will be mad if he thinks we’re listening.”
“I thought you said nobody ever got dramatic around here,” Kelly whispered back furiously.
Betsy held her hands up in a gesture of helplessness. Harrison’s voice rang through the door with ice cold clarity. “I think it’s perfectly obvious what I’m trying to do, David. I’m trying to buy your shares of St. John Industries.”
“Damn it. We built that place together. I’ve invested half my life in St. John’s.”
“Yes, well, I’ve invested half my family’s fortune. And I’m prepared to invest the other half if that’s what it takes to get you out of there.”
Betsy gestured frantically to Kelly to follow her away from the office doors, but Kelly’s feet seemed unwilling to respond to what her brain was telling them. She stayed stuck to the ground. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but something held her to that spot directly in front
“Yeah, you will be there.” The grin reappeared. Betsy took Kelly’s hand and started walking again. “What supplies do we still need?”
“I need to make sure somebody actually got all the things on the list I sent a couple weeks ago. And some other stuff, like old sheets for keeping the floor and furniture protected, some rags, a few buckets—all things Mrs. Jenkins probably has laying around.”
Betsy picked at the banister around the rotunda while Kelly stopped to peer at a painting that took up most of the back wall of a recessed alcove. “Why didn’t you just have Jenkins or some body do all the stuff you’re doing now? Anybody could patch cracks and put on a coat of primer.”
“Hmm,” Kelly murmured, her nose still pressed to the glass. “ I know, but not everybody would do it just the way I want it. If I do it myself, I’ll be able to make sure it’s done right. I also won’t have anyone else to blame if something goes wrong. Christ! This thing’s filthy.”
Kelly blew a small puff of breath at the frame. A tiny mush room cloud of dust rose up in front of her face. She sneezed. “When was the last time someone dusted these things?”
Betsy shrugged and grabbed Kelly’s hand. “Dad cut down on Mrs. Jenkins’ day help a while back. He said we didn’t need to keep the place like a showroom anymore.” She yanked on Kelly’s hand again. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”
Kelly let Betsy drag her along, but gestured back to the little alcove. “Some of that stuff is gorgeous. I’d really like to see what’s under that layer of dust.”
“Yeah. Yeah. They’ll still be here, still be gorgeous and still be filthy after we get something to eat. You can look at them when I’m not about to faint from hunger.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little over-dramatic?”
“No. I think we didn’t take a break for lunch.” Betsy rolled her eyes and kept tugging on Kelly’s arm. “And trust me, nobody is ever dramatic around this place. Everything here is reasonable and logical and incredibly boring.”
No sooner were those words out of Betsy’s mouth than a muffled male voice raised in anger split the habitual silence of Hawk Manor. Betsy froze in her tracks right outside the doors to Harrison’s office with Kelly right behind her.
“No. I will certainly not sign this ... this ... thing!” the voice bellowed again, this time more clearly. “What are you trying to do, Harrison?”
Betsy’s eyes grew wide. “It’s Uncle David,” she whispered. “But he and Daddy are fighting. They never fight.”
“Uncle David?”
The girl nodded, held her finger to her lips and began tip toeing backwards. “He hasn’t been here in months,” she whispered. “I don’t think we should be here. Daddy will be mad if he thinks we’re listening.”
“I thought you said nobody ever got dramatic around here,” Kelly whispered back furiously.
Betsy held her hands up in a gesture of helplessness. Harrison’s voice rang through the door with ice cold clarity. “I think it’s perfectly obvious what I’m trying to do, David. I’m trying to buy your shares of St. John Industries.”
“Damn it. We built that place together. I’ve invested half my life in St. John’s.”
“Yes, well, I’ve invested half my family’s fortune. And I’m prepared to invest the other half if that’s what it takes to get you out of there.”
Betsy gestured frantically to Kelly to follow her away from the office doors, but Kelly’s feet seemed unwilling to respond to what her brain was telling them. She stayed stuck to the ground. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but something held her to that spot directly in front
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