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Authors: Sheri S. Tepper
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born to a different mother, and gone to the outskirts of the city to live in a house of his own by the time I was five. All that was long ago, but today was now, and tomorrow morning would come soon.
All of the day had been interesting, though some of it had been slightly scary and at least one thing had been annoying. Why did Sultana Winetongue assume that I would tell them stories about my adventures? Now that they were letting me out, did they really think I would return?
3
Dora Henry’s New House
F inding a place of her own had sounded simple when Dora had said it. At the end of two weeks, spending every evening looking at houses and condos, she was sick of the idea. Every place she’d been shown was either filthy, or dilapidated, or badly located, or too expensive. Each place was either the size of a phone booth or the size of a barn. Then on Friday, three weeks after Jared was hurt, Phil’s wife called saying she’d found the perfect place, she’d meet Dora there.
Dora told herself not to be hopeful. She’d been disappointed too many times. Still, when she found the address and parked out in front, just behind Charlene’s car, the surroundings gave her a tiny thrill of excitement. Something was right about this place! When she got out of the car, however, she shook her head slowly. The three-story stone house was huge!
“This isn’t it,” said Charlene, who’d driven in behind her. “Follow me.”
She stalked down the concrete driveway toward thegable end of a wide, two-storied garage. Its overhead doors were tightly shut; the two windows above were shuttered. The stone wall of the big house was on their left, and where it ended at the back corner, a high, wooden fence took its place, running from house to garage, with a gate at the garage end. Charlene unlocked the gate padlock to let them through into an area of scattered paving stones and cracked, hard-packed clay. The space was separated from the big house by a cross fence that ended at the neighbor’s garage wall and separated from the alley by a chain-link fence with a gate giving access to the garbage cans. Across the alley was…well, nothing much: a field of ragged grass with sprays of white flowers blooming in it. Queen Anne’s lace? Whatever, it was more attractive than the enclosed area.
“This little yard is a mess, but don’t get your mind set yet,” Charlene cautioned. “Come on.”
Beneath a dangling lantern, a door opened into the side of the garage. Charlene unlocked it and fumbled inside for a switch. The lantern came on as well as an inside light, disclosing a closet-sized laundry room on the right, an empty cavern of garage straight ahead, and on the left a narrow flight of stairs which led up to a peaked and skylighted space, airy and open, with one wide window looking westward across the alley toward miles of uninterrupted country. The stairs were separated from the big room by a long, low bookcase. In the back corner opposite the stairs, cupboards and appliances made a U-shaped kitchen, and beside it a tiny hallway opened into a roomy bedroom and a sizeable bath, each with windows facing the driveway they had walked along. Charlene went from window to window, opening them and thrusting the shutters wide, letting in the evening.
“What was this?” Dora asked as she wandered about, trying to stay cynical and practical despite her growing elation.
“Chauffeur’s quarters,” Charlene crowed. “This usedto be a country estate, before the city swallowed it. The people who bought the big house are converting it into apartments. They want to sell this little piece outright to give them some remodeling capital. There’s enough ground set aside to comply with the zoning, and everything goes with: washer-drier, kitchen appliances, everything. The bedroom has a huge closet under the eaves. The fenced-off part gives you a yard or garden. You can either come in from the street, or, if you want more privacy, you can move the
All of the day had been interesting, though some of it had been slightly scary and at least one thing had been annoying. Why did Sultana Winetongue assume that I would tell them stories about my adventures? Now that they were letting me out, did they really think I would return?
3
Dora Henry’s New House
F inding a place of her own had sounded simple when Dora had said it. At the end of two weeks, spending every evening looking at houses and condos, she was sick of the idea. Every place she’d been shown was either filthy, or dilapidated, or badly located, or too expensive. Each place was either the size of a phone booth or the size of a barn. Then on Friday, three weeks after Jared was hurt, Phil’s wife called saying she’d found the perfect place, she’d meet Dora there.
Dora told herself not to be hopeful. She’d been disappointed too many times. Still, when she found the address and parked out in front, just behind Charlene’s car, the surroundings gave her a tiny thrill of excitement. Something was right about this place! When she got out of the car, however, she shook her head slowly. The three-story stone house was huge!
“This isn’t it,” said Charlene, who’d driven in behind her. “Follow me.”
She stalked down the concrete driveway toward thegable end of a wide, two-storied garage. Its overhead doors were tightly shut; the two windows above were shuttered. The stone wall of the big house was on their left, and where it ended at the back corner, a high, wooden fence took its place, running from house to garage, with a gate at the garage end. Charlene unlocked the gate padlock to let them through into an area of scattered paving stones and cracked, hard-packed clay. The space was separated from the big house by a cross fence that ended at the neighbor’s garage wall and separated from the alley by a chain-link fence with a gate giving access to the garbage cans. Across the alley was…well, nothing much: a field of ragged grass with sprays of white flowers blooming in it. Queen Anne’s lace? Whatever, it was more attractive than the enclosed area.
“This little yard is a mess, but don’t get your mind set yet,” Charlene cautioned. “Come on.”
Beneath a dangling lantern, a door opened into the side of the garage. Charlene unlocked it and fumbled inside for a switch. The lantern came on as well as an inside light, disclosing a closet-sized laundry room on the right, an empty cavern of garage straight ahead, and on the left a narrow flight of stairs which led up to a peaked and skylighted space, airy and open, with one wide window looking westward across the alley toward miles of uninterrupted country. The stairs were separated from the big room by a long, low bookcase. In the back corner opposite the stairs, cupboards and appliances made a U-shaped kitchen, and beside it a tiny hallway opened into a roomy bedroom and a sizeable bath, each with windows facing the driveway they had walked along. Charlene went from window to window, opening them and thrusting the shutters wide, letting in the evening.
“What was this?” Dora asked as she wandered about, trying to stay cynical and practical despite her growing elation.
“Chauffeur’s quarters,” Charlene crowed. “This usedto be a country estate, before the city swallowed it. The people who bought the big house are converting it into apartments. They want to sell this little piece outright to give them some remodeling capital. There’s enough ground set aside to comply with the zoning, and everything goes with: washer-drier, kitchen appliances, everything. The bedroom has a huge closet under the eaves. The fenced-off part gives you a yard or garden. You can either come in from the street, or, if you want more privacy, you can move the
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