Be Buried in the Rain by Barbara Michaels

Author:Barbara Michaels [Michaels, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Fiction, General
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I had planned to dress in my best, in the hope that my gorgeousness would inspire Matt to take me someplace fancy for dinner. The heat defeated me. I settled for bare legs and sandals and the coolest sundress I owned. My hair got bushy and unmanageable when the humidity was high; I yanked it back from my face and bundled it into a knot at the back of my neck.

Martha had been in a snit of excitement all afternoon, running Shirley ragged with orders. Matt’s room had to be cleaned and garnished with flowers. (Little did she know I had swiped his mattress; the one on the bed now was the musty, hard object that had been allotted to me, and I sincerely hoped he would sleep well on it.) I had been summoned to the presence three times, to get my orders. I had also been told to come in before I left, to say good night. After I was dressed I decided I might as well get it over with, so I knocked on her door.

Her movable eye surveyed me from top to bottom and stayed fixed on my bare calves.

“It’s too hot to wear stockings,” I said, anticipating the criticism. “We’re not going to the Ritz-Swank-Carlton, Martha; I’ll be lucky if I get a Big Mac and fries.”

The next complaint was about my hair. She waxed so vehement on the subject that I couldn’t understand what she wanted me to do about it, but she obviously disapproved of the style. “It’s too late now,” I said ambiguously.

Matt was on time, I’ll say that for him. I suppose punctuality is a political necessity; he had never exhibited that trait as a child.

I was ready for him. “Get me out of here,” I hissed, as he came in.

Matt laughed with professional heartiness. “Can you hang on for ten more minutes? I ought to spend a little time with Martha.”

I knew it would take longer than ten minutes. Martha was lying in wait, bedecked in pink and smelling of cologne. As I had hoped she would, Shirley took advantage of Matt’s presence to slip downstairs for her supper. I had it ready—tuna salad and sliced tomatoes, rolls, and iced tea.

“That’s nice, Julie,” she said appreciatively. “Looks pretty, too.”

“I feel guilty enough walking out on you. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Goodness, honey, I did it for two weeks before you came. Anyhow, I owe you an evening out.”

“You look awfully tired.”

“It’s the heat. Gets to you when you’re my size.”

“Gets to you, period.” I sat down across the table from her and sipped my tea. “I’d forgotten how awful summers can be down here.”

“You get used to it.”

“I don’t plan on getting used to it.”

She smiled but said nothing, and for a while we sat in silence. She was a comfortable person to be with; I felt my frazzled nerve endings smooth out and wondered why the hell I was letting myself get uptight about petty things. Compared to Shirley, I had little to complain about.

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