Читать книгу Gardenias in her hair - Martha Ostenso - Страница 5

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At a few minutes past six, Nugent returned from the station with Kit and her smart striped luggage. Susan had barely had time to wash her hot face in cold water, powder her nose, and change to her best crisp linen dress.

“Darling!” Kit, small and vivaciously dark, bounded up the porch steps and flung her arms about Susan. “Oh—you look good enough to eat!”

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” Nugent put in, “we’re going to have chicken.”

Susan laughed and held her sister at arm’s length. “You look pretty good yourself, Kit.”

“Skinny as a herring!” Nugent observed.

Kit jerked the little hat from her head and shook out her curls. “Of course, the last month or so has taken me down a bit. I simply had to slave to make the grade. You know how dumb I am, darling! Where’s Ede?”

“Hullo, Kit!” Edith’s voice came muffled from upstairs. “I’ll be right down.”

“Edie’s tired,” Susan explained in a conciliatory tone. “She didn’t get to bed till three this morning, and she played golf with Forbes Updyke today.”

“Is Forbes still in the picture?” Kit asked.

“Very much!”

“Sap!” Nugent said under his breath.

But Kit was too excited to pay any attention to her brother. As they came to the top landing, she gave Susan a happy squeeze. “Oh, I’ve got so much to tell you!”

Susan felt a deep thrill of gratitude. Oh, it did pay, the anxiety and the strain!

While the two girls dressed in Edith’s room, Susan sat and watched them with fond delight in their contrasting beauty.

“I suppose Nuge told you about his new raise?”

“The minute we got into the car. Isn’t it slick! And he’s taking Violet Cruikshank out. With Forbes chasing Ede, maybe the Prescott fortunes are on the way up again. Isn’t it a wonderful world? Almost anything can happen.”

“And does!” Edith added morosely. “Has Sue told you who is coming to board with us?”

Kit whipped about from the mirror, lipstick poised. “To board?”

“She’s being silly,” Susan remonstrated. “Jonathan Gilfeather wants to take over the cabin for a few weeks. But he’s not coming to board with us.”

“He might just as well,” Edith said. “No one in East Searle will believe anything else.”

Kit turned back to the mirror. “Well, I suppose it’s his place, after all. And he may be all right. Anyhow, what people believe and think doesn’t interest me much, Ede. When does our landlord get here, Sue?”

“In a day or two, from what he said in his letter. But let’s not talk about it. You wrote me something about Mona Rankin wanting to come up for a visit.”

“She’ll be here in two days. Her mother’s going to Reno for her divorce, and Mona doesn’t want to hang around Lansing with all the talk. We’ll have to be nice to her—she’s been simply swell to me.”

“We haven’t much to offer her,” Susan reminded her.

“She’s not expecting anything. I’ve told her all about us. Besides, there’ll be plenty to do. You remember that Bernie Crawford I wrote you about, Sue? That I met at the prom?”

“You mean Phil Crawford’s cousin?”

“Uh-huh. He came up on the train with me. He’s going to spend a month out at Phil’s country place. Phil’s an onion, but I suppose I can put up with him for Bernie’s sake. Bernie’s about the smoothest article on legs.”

Susan’s heart sank with a sense of foreboding. Kit was so attractive, and so willful at times.

“It isn’t serious, then,” Edith observed absently.

“Who said anything about being serious?” Kit replied. “I’m not the serious type, darling. I can have fun without going off the deep end every time a male looks at me. Phil is giving a house party for Bernie in July, and I’m to help decorate the swimming pool and what not. Mona has been asked, too. It has all worked out marvelously.”

Edith, slapping her nails with the buffer, said, “Well, that sounds grand, Kit. Heavens, I should have had a manicure today! My nails are a sight!”

“And how goes the writing, Sue?” Kit asked suddenly.

“I’m in the middle of a story. I’m in love with the hero, and if I’d had another hour at it today I’d have killed off the other woman. As it is, she has another night to live.”

Nugent was calling from downstairs. “Get a move on, you females, if you’re expecting me to eat with you. I’ve got a heavy date.”

Susan got up. “I’ll put the things on the table. Hurry down, won’t you?”

“We’ll be down pronto, darling,” Kit promised. “And—Sue, I hope you won’t mind awfully if I breeze out with Bernie for a little while tonight. He simply wouldn’t take no. He’s calling for me at eight.”

Perhaps she had been unreasonable, Susan admitted to herself, in thinking that Kit might pitch in this evening and help clear out the cabin.

“That’s all right, Kit,” she said as she left the room.

And it was all right, she told herself. When the girls and Nugent were gone, she would tackle the job herself. Or maybe she’d go back to her typewriter and kill off that other woman.