Free Birds of Summer by Zilpha Keatley Snyder Page B

would. She thought about it all the rest of the day while she dusted the gleaming furniture and vacuumed the deep soft rugs and swept the peacock droppings off the patio. And the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Nan’s unspoken comments about Oriole made her angry, and the “discreet inquiries” made her angrier, and the “God-given gumption” made her angriest of all. But before she went home that afternoon, when she told Nan good-by, she gave her a sincere, serious smile and said she was still thinking about it.
    That much was true. She had thought about nothing else all afternoon, and on the way home she was still thinking about it. But what wasn’t true was the implication that she was undecided. Not that there weren’t aspects of Nan’s offer that intrigued her. She had to admit to that and even to a long-standing fantasy in which she was, in some vague, undefined way, a part of the Oliver’s peacock world. But the part she’d envisioned herself playing in that world was not that of live-in maid and certainly not in Connecticut—three thousand miles away from Sparrow and Oriole. Her answer would be no. All that remained was how to say it so that the Olivers wouldn’t be angry. She wanted to keep the job as long as possible.
    That had been the first event that had made the past week one that almost demanded to be recorded, and the second one took place only a few days later. It began with Pardell asking her to stay after class again. Even though there was no reason that she could think of and certainly no possibility of another misplaced letter, she had been uneasy. As she waited for the rest of the class to file out, she could feel the fluttery tightness beginning in her stomach.
    “Well,” Pardell said, when the other students had all gone, “don’t look so apprehensive. There’s no problem. It’s just that I’m about to offer you a summer job.”
    “A job,” she repeated blankly, wiped out by surprise.
    “Right. You see, Meg, my wife, is due to go into the hospital in about two weeks. Nothing serious, just an old knee injury that’s been giving her some trouble recently. But she’ll be in a wheelchair and then on crutches for quite a while, which wouldn’t present any problem except that I’m committed to a summer school stint in Fort Bragg. So we’re going to need someone to stay with her while I’m away and help out around the house. Perhaps you already have plans for the summer but …” He broke off as Summer began to nod.
    “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’d like the job, that is. And no, I don’t have any other plans. That is, I do have a job already but it’s only for weekends, so I could be at your place during the week.”
    Pardell said that was great, and they set up a time for Summer to go over to talk to his wife, and that was it. It wasn’t until she was halfway home that she realized he must have decided to ask her if she wanted the job because of that letter to Grant. There’d been a part in it about her bank account and the job at Crown Ridge Ranch—which obviously was the reason Pardell knew she was into doing housework. It was a disturbing thought. But at least he hadn’t mentioned what had given him the idea. Because if he had mentioned it, she would have had to turn him down.
    Then, two days later, there had been the interview with Meg Pardell. Summer had gone to the house, a small Victorian on the north edge of the village, after picking Sparrow up at the elementary school. She made Sparrow wait for her in the front yard while she went in. She’d known Meg Pardell by sight for a long time—everyone in Alvarro Bay knew everyone else by sight—a small thin woman with a pixie haircut; but it was the first time they’d ever spoken. She turned out to be easy to talk to.
    She led the way into the living room chattering away about how great it was that Summer was going to be able to help them out “I know you’ll do a wonderful job,” she said,