Pocketful of Poseys by Thomas Reed EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Thomas Reed
- Language: English
- Genre: Family Life Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
HANOVER
Grace Tingley always struggled letting herself into her mother’s cottage,
especially when her arms were full. Cinny Posey’s front door had a handle as
quirky as its owner. Unless you pressed the latch down with one hand, just
so, while you twisted the key with the other, you might as well have been
trying to husk a coconut with a plastic spoon.
Grace huffed in exasperation, dropped the bundle of clothing onto the
brick stoop, and did it the only way that worked. It had been raining for
twenty-four hours, but the door swung open with its usual dry squeak.
Grace took a deep breath and bent down for the things her mother had
portentously announced she wouldn’t be needing any more.
“Shit!” Grace muttered as she straightened up.
e puddle on the stoop hadn’t looked deep, but an added weight to the
clothes and a chill seep of water through her sleeve told Grace otherwise.
She stepped into the narrow entryway, wiped her feet half-heartedly on the
mat, and nudged the door closed with her butt. Her mother’s things were
still dripping when she reached the laundry room and dumped the pile on
top of the washer. She had plenty of time to deal with them. Plenty of time,
too, to grab a mop and soak up her wet footprints and the trail of rainwater
from Lucinda Maynard Posey’s last load of everyday wash.
Grace eyed the rain-pocked sweater she’d draped over her mother’s
undergarments so they wouldn’t be on display if anyone spied her scurrying
through the lingering March showers back to the “Level ree Deluxe” she’d
talked her parents into taking years back. “We don’t need that much space
anymore,” her mother had protested. “I’d be happy in a tent.”
“Do you think you might possibly have visitors?” Grace had retorted.
“Like maybe children who love you?”
e dampened red woolen cardigan was classic Talbots. Cinny Posey
had a weakness for Italian lingerie, but she’d always been a Bean or
Patagonia girl—far more Hanover-Norwich than Greenwich-Darien. Still, a
few years back she’d evinced a fair semblance of gratitude when Grace’s well
of Christmas-giing ideas had run dry and she’d settled, glumly, for a $200
gi certicate from the classic purveyor to preppy matrons. at, and a
professional photograph of Cinny’s Maine Coon cat, Jimi.
So much depends upon a red sweater, thought Grace, glazed with
rainwater…beside the white chemise.
It must have been the endless showers that reminded her of the Williams
poem, lurking there in her memory like attic dust. She was tempted to pick
the sweater up and press it to her face, just to take in the scent. Just to see
how it made her feel.
Her mother had been living at Hanover Hills for three
years now, alone (excepting Jimi) for all but a few months. Still, the cottage
hadn’t taken on any distinctive aura besides that of generic cleansers with a
hint of used kitty litter. Maybe the old, unmistakable, comforting-yetconsternating scent of the historic Posey household had depended more on
Grace’s father than on her mother.
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