Читать книгу Secrets At the Cove - Honey Perkel - Страница 15

Iris stood in the center of the living room. The sight of cat fur and clutter was overwhelming. This was the last thing she wanted to do: sort magazines, straighten stacks of books in the bookcase, polish furniture, vacuum, wipe down walls and ceilings, and wash dishes. However, Scott was coming and she had to put her house into some sort of order.

Perhaps she should hire a cleaning crew to take on the job. Iris wouldn’t admit it was depression that kept her from sprucing up the place. Well, why not admit it? It was true enough.

Flowers and felines. Iris wished only to spend time with them. They wouldn’t hurt her as the humans in her life had done.

She should just sell this old house and live in her garden. That was where she spent her time, where she lived, after all. Besides seeing Scott, it was the only thing to bring her any joy these days.

The blooms were calling to her even now. She could hear them clearly, their cries ringing amidst the sound of the ocean. “Iris,” they cried in unison. “Come. We want you to take care of us. And we will take care of you.”

Her garden wanted to survive. So like herself. Even when her husband, Samuel, was alive, Iris had been trying to tread water. Especially when Samuel was alive.

Those were such bad years — when her sister Laura and her husband, George, offered to help. They wanted to save Iris the shame that would undoubtedly engulf her life. Well, some help! Laura had stolen the most precious thing in her world. Iris’ husband was a drunk, and her sister was a thief! The words screamed in her head. Now she had nothing.

Her thoughts returned to her flowers. Iris tried to concentrate on the joyous hum coming from her plants. The purple cosmos, larkspur, fuzzy lamb’s ears, black-eyed susans, asters, and bluebonnets. The voices, real or otherwise, were all speaking to her at once.

Then Iris saw a shadowy figure in the open doorway. It took her a moment to focus her attention before she realized it was the pretty Molly Bradford standing on her porch.

“Molly! My dear, Molly,” Iris cried, scratching at her unruly gray hair, and patting it in place. “Do come in.”

Molly stepped from the bright glare into the gloom of the house. She took a moment for her eyes to adjust. “I’m yours for the rest of the day,” she announced, proudly.

“What?” Iris was puzzled. Had she missed something? Bitsy dashed into the room and ran around in a circle chasing her tail. The black feline stopped in midstream, turned, and chased the other way.

“I know your nephew’s coming on Friday. I thought you might need some help straightening up,” Molly offered.

“My nephew?” Iris paused, caught off guard. The girl was talking about Scott. “How did you know Scott is coming to Seaside?”

“You told us at Annie Rose’s.”

“Well, yes, I guess I did.”

The girl hesitated, thinking about the threatening telephone call she received from Augie’s co-worker. “You did say your nephew is a lawyer, didn’t you?”

“One of the best in Seattle. Of course, I’m a bit prejudiced,” Iris replied with a grin, “being his aunt and all.”

“Well, ... I have a few questions. It’s probably ridiculous for me not to see someone locally, but I just thought ...”

“Would you like me to have Scott call you while he’s here?”

“Yes. I’d really appreciate that.” Molly said. Professional help was just what she needed.

“Of course. He’ll be happy to help.”

“Thanks, Iris,” she said, “should we get started on the chores?”

“Well, you are a very sweet girl. Isn’t she a sweet girl, Samuel?”

Molly was a take-charge kind of woman, and that was exactly what Iris needed. “Maybe I could start by opening up these dark drapes and letting some light pour in. How about you changing the linens on Scott’s bed?”

“I’ll do that!” Iris exclaimed, suddenly feeling the energy. There was a lot to be done. She shooed Snowball and Essie, (or was it Blackie and Sadie?) from an armchair, and proceeded to get her mind in gear. “What will you do?”

“I’ll stay down here and see what I can do about this room, then move on to the kitchen. Where do you keep your cleaning supplies, Iris?” Molly asked.

“The last time I saw them, they were under the kitchen sink.” Iris laughed. “But that was so long ago. You’ll have to ask Samuel.”