Read Online The Haunting of Brier Rose by Patricia Simpson - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Simpson
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however, she took three deep breaths to
calm herself and then smoothed back her hair and the skirt of her dress. She
didn't want to disturb Bea needlessly or have to explain what Taylor Wolfe had
done to her while she slept. But she was curious to find out about the Bastyr
family and wondered if Bea knew anything about them.
Bea looked up from the cutting board, where she was mincing bacon
and green onions for an omelet. "Good morning, dear," she greeted
Rose with a smile.
Rose walked across the tile floor and gave her a hug. "How
are you feeling, Bea?"
"Much better. But you should have awakened me when Mr. Wolfe
arrived last night."
"I thought you could use the rest."
"That was thoughtful of you, Rose, but I was worried what
Mr. Wolfe might think, seeing you."
"He was full of questions, but at least he didn't tell me to
leave."
"That's a relief." Bea scooped up the bacon and dropped
it in a skillet. "But I suppose he'll want to know all the details from
me."
"Don't worry. The worst he can do is send us packing. I can handle that."
"But not until you sell your scarf, Rose." Bea turned
to glance at her as she stirred the sizzling bacon. "We must convince him
to let us stay that long."
"I'm almost done. Don't worry."
"You're a good girl, Rose." Bea gave her a warm but
troubled smile. Rose shrugged it off, knowing in her heart that she probably wasn't
all that good. Good children didn't get banished from their families. She must
have done something that she had buried in her memory.
Rose stepped closer to the stove, but far enough away so the
bacon grease wouldn't splatter her. "Bea, I have a question."
"Yes?"
"Have you ever heard of a family called the Bastyrs?"
Bea lost her grip on the fork, which slid into the hot pan and sank
into the bacon grease. "Oh, there, look what I've done!" she
exclaimed, reaching for a sharp knife with which to fish out the fork.
Rose noted Bea's fluttering movements, so unlike the calm,
reserved woman Rose knew her to be, and realized the mere mention of the Bastyr
name had sent Bea into a flurry of nervousness. Why?
"Ouch, that fork's hot!" Bea cried, dropping the
utensil on the counter. "I'm just Miss Fumble Fingers this morning, aren't
I?"
"Bea, you didn't answer my question."
"I'm sorry, dear." Bea walked to the sink to strain off
the grease. "What was it again?"
"The Bastyrs. Have you ever heard of them?"
Bea pushed up her wire-framed glasses and turned from the sink,
still holding the pan and spatula. "The Bastyrs?"
"Yes. Mr. Wolfe said I bear a marked resemblance to the
Bastyr women."
Bea's grip tightened on the spatula. Rose could see the knuckles
of her pudgy hand turning white. "Mr. Wolfe said that?"
"Yes. He said my red hair gave me away."
"Your red hair? Lots of people have red hair." Bea set
the pan on the counter and quickly turned to the refrigerator. "I wouldn't
take him seriously. He was probably just trying to break the ice with
you." She rose up, holding a carton of eggs. "It's a typical male
ploy when meeting a pretty girl to say she reminds him of someone."
"He said he knew all about me, though."
"How could he? He didn't know you were here until last
night." Bea cracked the eggs into a bowl. Her hands shook. “At least as
far as I know.”
"What aren't you telling me, Bea?" Rose demanded,
gripping the edge of the counter. "You're hiding something from me. I can
tell."
"Now, why would I hide anything from you, dear?" Bea
retorted, whisking the eggs. The loose flesh on her forearms jiggled. She
looked up at Rose and smiled, but Rose could see the tarnish of fear and
insecurity dulling the sparkle in her eyes.
Bea picked up the bowl of eggs. "Perhaps you misunderstood
him, Rose. I know you must be tired, driving yourself as you do. You haven't
been getting enough sleep lately."
"I didn't misunderstand him." Rose frowned again, remembering
how Mr. Wolfe had acted upon meeting her the second time, as if he had never
talked to her before. He hadn't
calm herself and then smoothed back her hair and the skirt of her dress. She
didn't want to disturb Bea needlessly or have to explain what Taylor Wolfe had
done to her while she slept. But she was curious to find out about the Bastyr
family and wondered if Bea knew anything about them.
Bea looked up from the cutting board, where she was mincing bacon
and green onions for an omelet. "Good morning, dear," she greeted
Rose with a smile.
Rose walked across the tile floor and gave her a hug. "How
are you feeling, Bea?"
"Much better. But you should have awakened me when Mr. Wolfe
arrived last night."
"I thought you could use the rest."
"That was thoughtful of you, Rose, but I was worried what
Mr. Wolfe might think, seeing you."
"He was full of questions, but at least he didn't tell me to
leave."
"That's a relief." Bea scooped up the bacon and dropped
it in a skillet. "But I suppose he'll want to know all the details from
me."
"Don't worry. The worst he can do is send us packing. I can handle that."
"But not until you sell your scarf, Rose." Bea turned
to glance at her as she stirred the sizzling bacon. "We must convince him
to let us stay that long."
"I'm almost done. Don't worry."
"You're a good girl, Rose." Bea gave her a warm but
troubled smile. Rose shrugged it off, knowing in her heart that she probably wasn't
all that good. Good children didn't get banished from their families. She must
have done something that she had buried in her memory.
Rose stepped closer to the stove, but far enough away so the
bacon grease wouldn't splatter her. "Bea, I have a question."
"Yes?"
"Have you ever heard of a family called the Bastyrs?"
Bea lost her grip on the fork, which slid into the hot pan and sank
into the bacon grease. "Oh, there, look what I've done!" she
exclaimed, reaching for a sharp knife with which to fish out the fork.
Rose noted Bea's fluttering movements, so unlike the calm,
reserved woman Rose knew her to be, and realized the mere mention of the Bastyr
name had sent Bea into a flurry of nervousness. Why?
"Ouch, that fork's hot!" Bea cried, dropping the
utensil on the counter. "I'm just Miss Fumble Fingers this morning, aren't
I?"
"Bea, you didn't answer my question."
"I'm sorry, dear." Bea walked to the sink to strain off
the grease. "What was it again?"
"The Bastyrs. Have you ever heard of them?"
Bea pushed up her wire-framed glasses and turned from the sink,
still holding the pan and spatula. "The Bastyrs?"
"Yes. Mr. Wolfe said I bear a marked resemblance to the
Bastyr women."
Bea's grip tightened on the spatula. Rose could see the knuckles
of her pudgy hand turning white. "Mr. Wolfe said that?"
"Yes. He said my red hair gave me away."
"Your red hair? Lots of people have red hair." Bea set
the pan on the counter and quickly turned to the refrigerator. "I wouldn't
take him seriously. He was probably just trying to break the ice with
you." She rose up, holding a carton of eggs. "It's a typical male
ploy when meeting a pretty girl to say she reminds him of someone."
"He said he knew all about me, though."
"How could he? He didn't know you were here until last
night." Bea cracked the eggs into a bowl. Her hands shook. “At least as
far as I know.”
"What aren't you telling me, Bea?" Rose demanded,
gripping the edge of the counter. "You're hiding something from me. I can
tell."
"Now, why would I hide anything from you, dear?" Bea
retorted, whisking the eggs. The loose flesh on her forearms jiggled. She
looked up at Rose and smiled, but Rose could see the tarnish of fear and
insecurity dulling the sparkle in her eyes.
Bea picked up the bowl of eggs. "Perhaps you misunderstood
him, Rose. I know you must be tired, driving yourself as you do. You haven't
been getting enough sleep lately."
"I didn't misunderstand him." Rose frowned again, remembering
how Mr. Wolfe had acted upon meeting her the second time, as if he had never
talked to her before. He hadn't
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