Free Enchanted Spring by Peggy Gaddis

wouldn’t know. But it’s rained ever since we got here and I had to do something to kill time,” she added coolly.
    Margaret studied her curiously as she said lightly, “And of course, they
do
make the most amazing can-openers and things nowadays, don’t they?”
    Later, when Joel took himself off, Carey went with him to the backdoor and closed it behind her, standing on the veranda in the cool white moonlight.
    “Want me to go back and take a sock at her? It would be no trouble at all — matter of fact, I’d enjoy it,” said Joel.
    Carey shrugged. “Just forget it. She didn’t mean to be unpleasant — at least, I don’t think she did.”
    “Which, of course, is an outrageous understatement. The lady has her claws out for you for some reason I wouldn’t know about,” said Joel. “And if you say the word, I’ll smack her down.”
    Carey felt a little warm tingle about her heart. It was good to know he was on her side. “Never mind — I’ll smack her myself. Aren’t you staying for the party, by the way?”
    “Oh, I have to go away and come back again so that you can look properly surprised,” Joel assured her. “If the neighbors arrive and find me here they’ll suspect that you aren’t really surprised, and that would spoil their fun.”
    When Carey went back into the warm kitchen Margaret and her father still sat at the cluttered table, talking, and Carey’s heart was touched by the eager aliveness of her father’s face. Poor Pops, she told herself as she began to clear the table. He had been as lonely here as she. She promised herself sternly to learn to like Margaret if it killed her.
    Not much later, laughter sounded in the drive.
    “Now, what on earth would that be — at eight o’clock in the evening?” Silas wondered.
    Carey wiped her hands on a towel and said lightly, “Unless I’ve been misinformed, we are about to have a party dropped smack into our laps. But we’re all supposed to be surprised right to our back teeth.”
    “A surprise party? Good Heavens, how quaint!” gasped Margaret.
    Carey didn’t bother to answer as she went along the hall and opened the front door. It seemed to her that a veritable wave of people swept in and over and around her, shouting “Merry Christmas! Surprise, surprise!” They were flushed with the cold, their arms filled with bright-colored packages, and the hubbub they made brought Silas and Margaret out into the hall.
    It was a gay, friendly party, and Carey’s heart was warm with the knowledge that these people liked her and her father. But once or twice during the evening she caught Margaret’s eyes fixed on her, and in those eyes there was a hint of derision that made Carey set her teeth hard and clench her fists.
    Later when the party was over and Silas, with the help of Joel, had been put to bed and comfortably settled for the night and Joel had gone, Carey found Margaret sitting before the open fire, a cigarette between her fingers.
    “So that’s the wild hilarity and excitement of nightlife in Midvale!” Margaret commented dryly. “I don’t wonder that you’ve aged ten years, my lamb, and that your hands are like sandpaper! Heavens, child, how
could
you let yourself go like this?”
    Carey drew a long, hard breath. She faced Margaret with her chin up, her eyes cold. “I don’t know why you came, Margaret,” she began, but Margaret, flicking her cigarette into the fire, cut in swiftly:
    “Then you’re pretty stupid, Carey. I came to see Silas, of course. And the trip was worth everything. I — only live when I’m somewhere around him. That’s why I’ve come to stay.”
    “You’ve — come to stay?” Carey stammered, so taken by surprise that she could not control the sharp protest in her voice.
    “Exactly,” answered Margaret. “Look here, Carey, we might as well have this out here and now. There isn’t a cent left of your father’s estate. There will be, maybe, six hundred dollars a year from some stocks we