Read Online The Queen of Sleepy Eye by Patti Hill - Free Book Online Page A

fofa.” She pulled her suitcase off the closet shelf and threw it open. With a shove, she pushed me toward the door. “Amy, go pack. We can’t stay here.” She scooped handfuls of satin and lace out of the dresser drawer. “Why are you standing there? Go tell that woman we’re moving out.”
    I took the wad of lingerie from Mom’s hands. “Mom, really, we’ve been in tough places before. This isn’t any different—”
    â€œOh, fofa, you don’t know. Nothing good can come of this.”
    â€œWe could pray.”
    â€œDon’t start with me, Amy.”
    I returned her lingerie to her pleading hands. “Fine, where exactly do you propose we go? And how will we get there? Perhaps Prince Charming will pick us up.”
    â€œYes, that’s what we need.” Mom rifled through her purse. “I wouldn’t call him Prince Charming, but he seemed friendly enough, and he has a big truck.” Mom dumped her fat wallet and several tubes of lipstick onto the bed. “He wrote his name and phone number on a napkin.” Out came the embroidered hanky I’d made for her in Blue Birds and a bundle of coupons. “I wasn’t going to tell you. He bought me a drink, just one. I think his name is Bruce. He offered his help, said to call if we needed anything.” She heldup a cocktail napkin. “Here’s the number. I’ll call while you talk to Mrs. Clancy.”
    I blocked the path to the door.
    â€œAmy, please, I can’t stay here.”
    I ignored Mom’s violation of her pinkie pledge about men and softened my voice like you would to coax a kitten out of a tree. “Living here is ideal. You were right about that. We don’t pay rent. It’s so nice to have a washing machine and clothesline right here. The flower garden is pretty, the prettiest we’ve ever had. And that boy H will keep the lawn nice. We only have to treat the families with kindness and keep the place tidy. We can do that. You’re the kindest person I know.”
    â€œThere is a dead person in this house at this very moment.”
    â€œI know. It’s hard. Think of something else. Think of how brave you were after Daddy died. You searched and searched for the perfect place to raise me, and you found Gilbertsville. And remember how we ate popcorn on the porch and waited for the first call of the loons on a summer night? Remember baking lavadores for the carnival? I love those cookies. Even old Mrs. Prinzki wanted the recipe. And Mom, think of the night of the Sleepy Eye pageant, how beautiful you felt on the runway with every eye in the auditorium watching just you.”
    Mom stood taller. “Yes. You’re right. We have to be strong.” She leaned into the mirror to check her reflection. “Hand me a tissue.” Once she’d cleared her face of mascara, she knotted her blouse at her waist. “Look out the window. Make sure those terrible men are gone.”
    I assured her they were. That wasn’t good enough. Mom insisted I confirm that Miss Bigelow had been safely deposited in the basement workroom. I stood outside the bedroom door for a long time, waiting for my heart to settle behind my sternum. I slipped off my shoes towalk from room to room. In the kitchen the drippy faucet filled my cereal bowl. A fan stirred the dust mites in the reposing room. A moth flitted around a lamp in the chapel. Ordinary things continued on as if Miss Bigelow was still there to see and hear them. At the closed basement door, I stopped to wonder who, besides her brothers (and that was debatable), would notice she was no longer there to tighten a dripping faucet or to turn off a fan or to shoo a moth out the door? Could someone leave so light a footprint on this earth that her passing was forgotten by the next rainfall?
    That night, I lay in bed like a plank, trying but failing to think of anything but the dead body that lay in the basement.