Read Online Separate Beds by Lavyrle Spencer - Free Book Online Page A

stairway that led off the left end of the foyer took two turns, at two landings, on its way up. A rich, old, heavy handrail with spooled rails spoke of grander days. Beyond the colonnade spread the living room and dining room, like a sunny, comfortable cavern. Colored light filtered through old leaded glass, splashing across the living room like strokes of an artist's brush: amethyst, garnet, sapphire and emerald falling through the elegant old floral design as it had for eighty years and more. Wide baseboards and hip-high wainscoting had been miraculously preserved. The room was furnished with an overstuffed davenport and chairs of mismatched designs that somehow seemed more proper than the most carefully planned grouping would have been. There were tables with worn edges, but of homey design. The only incongruity present seemed to be the television set, which was off now as Catherine and Bobbi stood in the front hall watching three girls clean the room. One was on her knees sorting magazines, one was pushing a vacuum cleaner and another was dusting the tables. Beyond the far archway, a little girl bent over a dining room table that could have easily seated the entire Minnesota Viking team. Chairs of every nameable style and shape circled the table, and so did the little girl, slapping at each seat with her dishcloth. She straightened up then and placed a hand on her waist, fingers extending around to the small of her back, stretching backward. Staring, Catherine was abashed when the girl turned around to reveal a popping, full-blown stomach. The child was no more than five feet tall and hadn't even developed breasts yet. She might have been thirteen years old or so, but was at least eight months pregnant.
    A glorious smile broke out on her face when she saw Catherine and Bobbi. “Hey, you guys, turn that thing off. We've got company!” she yelled toward the living room.
    The vacuum cleaner sighed into silence. The magazine girl got up from her knees; the one who'd been dusting threw the cloth over her shoulder, and they all came toward the colonnade at once.
    “Hi, my name's Marie. You looking for Mrs. Tollefson?” said the girl who looked like her name: very French, with tiny bones, pert, dark eyes, a wispy haircut and piquant face that Catherine immediately thought of as darling.
    “Yes, I'm Catherine and this is Bobbi.”
    “Welcome,” Marie said, extending her hand immediately, first to one then to the other. “Which one of you is staying?”
    “I am. Bobbi's my cousin; she brought me here.”
    “Meet the others. This is Vicky.” Vicky had a plain, long face whose only redeeming feature was the bright cornflower blue of her eyes. “And Grover.” Grover looked as if she should have learned better grooming habits in junior high home ec class; her hair was stringy, nails bitten, clothes unkempt. “And that's our mascot, Little Bit, playing catch with the dishcloth over there. Hey, come on over, Little Bit.”
    They were all in various stages of pregnancy, but what surprised Catherine was how very young they all looked. Up close, Little Bit looked even younger than before. Marie seemed to be the oldest of the four, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, but the others, Catherine was sure, were not older than fifteen. Amazingly, they all seemed cheerful, greeting Catherine with warm, genuine smiles. She had little chance to dwell on ages, for Marie took the lead, saying, “Welcome then. I'll see if I can hunt up Tolly for you. She's around here someplace. Have you seen her, Little Bit?”
    “I think she's in her office.”
    “Great. Follow me, you guys.” While they trailed after Marie, she informed them, “Like I said, Little Bit's our mascot around here. Her real name's Dulcie, but there's not much to her than a little bit, so that's what we call her. Mrs. Tollefson's a good egg. We all call her Tolly. As soon as we talk to her we'll get you settled. Hey, have you guys had your lunch yet?”
    Whatever Bobbi's