Читать книгу The Reincarnation of Clara - Kevin J. Todeschi - Страница 16

In the hallway outside of Emily Stuart’s apartment, twenty-eight-year-old Emily struggled with her keys before finally getting the door to unlock: “It only works if you twist it back and forth just so.”

When the door opened, Emily ushered Clara inside the apartment, pulling her by the arm toward the couch. The apartment was sparsely furnished, although the presence of curtains on the windows and doilies on several table tops displayed Emily’s sewing skill. Her Bernina machine was also against one wall, scattered with half-sewn articles that had apparently been brought home from work. As Clara looked around the room, she nodded when she saw Annabelle, Emily’s old doll, propped up in one of the chairs.

Emily took her sister’s handbag, placed it on the coffee table and pulled Clara to the sofa, forcing her to take a seat. The table was scattered with pieces of paper that Emily had been writing on, and next to the papers a dirty ashtray appeared three-quarters full.

Clara was shocked, “You’ve taken up smoking! Mama’s gonna be fit to be tied!”

“Never mind about that. I met a man!” Emily reached toward an end table and lifted a newspaper, which had obviously been read and refolded. She held it tightly between her hands.

“Where?” Clara appeared dubious.

“He just moved into the hotel. He’s some kind of a top dog for Southern Pacific.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He walks with a cane—I think he must have some kind of a back problem.”

“Oh, great catch, Emily! Is he a Baptist?”

“I just saw him once!” Emily hesitated and then added under her breath, “I think he might be a Catholic.”

“What!? A Mormon would be bad enough, but a Catholic with a bad back, well, that’s something altogether different!”

“Don’t be so provincial. I heard him ask the desk clerk for directions to Saint Joseph’s—maybe he was just meeting someone.

“Papa’s gonna kill you.”

“Who cares? I’ll be an old maid if Papa has his way. Besides you married a Baptist and that turned out to be one big mistake.”

Clara was silent. She looked down and said nothing—there was no way in the world that she was going to discuss Paul Gabriel with Emily Ann Stuart. Finally, when it appeared that Clara had nothing more to say, Emily dropped the paper she had been holding into her sister’s lap, “Here, I need you to look sideways at this.”

“What for?”

“He was reading it in the lobby this morning.”

Although still feeling perturbed with her sister, Clara relented, “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me if he’s married.”

Clara held onto the newspaper, looked at it intensely until she saw multiple copies—one lining up in back of another, and another and another . . . suddenly, there was a tremendous flash of light.