Read Online Smart House by Kate Wilhelm - Free Book Online Page A

black skillet meets head, head gives. But an open mesh bag? Drowning a guy in a whirlpool? Well, like I told Milton Sweetwater, we’ll have a looksee, keep an open mind as long as possible, and hang the computer in the end. Let’s go to bed. No storm here tonight. It’s hotter than it was an hour ago.”
    People on the coast went inland to warm up in the summer, the gas station attendant had told Beth that morning, a few miles south of Bandon, Oregon. The day was misty, gray, and cool. Earlier, there had been dense fog, but it had lifted by the time she reached this area. From there to Smart House had been less than an hour.
    Crazy, she told herself, shivering when she drove up to the house, suffering from déjà vu, her stomach in a hard knot that she could not relax no matter how many deep breaths she sucked in. Crazy, crazy, crazy.
    The front door opened before she had her suitcase out of the car. Jake strode out to meet her. He stopped short of actually touching her this time, but examined her face closely, then nodded. “Why didn’t you return any of my calls?”
    “I don’t know. There didn’t seem much point, I guess.”
    She turned from his searching gaze and opened the back door and now he moved past her and brought her suitcase out. Silently they entered Smart House. Neither suggested taking the elevator up. As they mounted the stairs from the foyer, the house seemed uncannily quiet. In the upper hallway she looked down into the atrium, as beautiful as before, with no one in it. The waterfall was working, the splash of water reflected one of the hanging lights, sparkled, and broke the sparkles in an endless kaleidoscope effect. Someone must have left open one of the doors, she thought distantly; the unpleasant odor of chlorine was everywhere. She had forgotten how it filled the house when the doors were left open.
    She wished that someone other than Jake had met her, or no one at all. She could manage her one suitcase. It was true, he had called quite a few times, and she had listened to his voice on her machine, and turned it off each time. What was the point? she repeated to herself. They reached her door.
    “Is… is the computer turned on?” she asked, hesitating now.
    “No,” he said brusquely. “That damn thing’s off for good.” He reached past her and turned the doorknob. “There’s a lock inside, a plain, old-fashioned mechanical chain lock. I installed it a while ago.”
    “I’ll have to open my own drapes and regulate my own bath—” Beth started. At the sound of laughter she became rigid and felt the world going out of focus—Gary’s laughter. She clutched the door frame.
    “Take it easy,” Jake said; he held her arm in a firm grip. “He’s been practicing.”
    Bruce yelled from the elevator at the end of the hall, “It’s about time you got here! We’re having a family meeting in the garden in five minutes.”
    “Oh, my God!” Beth breathed, staring at Bruce. Always before he had stressed the small differences between himself and Gary: He had worn suits, Gary sweaters; he had worn polished shoes, Gary sneakers; his hair had been relatively neat, Gary’s unruly, a mop of curly hair that he had cut only when it got down to his eyes. Today, Bruce was in a sweater and slacks, untied sneakers, his hair wild and bushy.
    Even the words, she thought, he even remembered what Gary had said the last time.
    “As I said,” Jake muttered savagely, “he’s been practicing.” He carried her suitcase on into the room; she followed and stood by the door.
    Now Jake looked awkward. She moved aside for him to pass, but he didn’t move yet. “Beth, don’t let him get to you. Okay? You’ve got friends in the company, you know. Milton, me. Bruce is being ugly, but he doesn’t have any power, and he knows it. He can’t actually do anything. So take it easy.”
    She nodded. “Thanks, Jake. I appreciate that.”
    “Yeah. I’ll see you later.” He left swiftly.
    Beth closed the door,