A Slow Boil Read Free Page B

questions.”
    “No, I think I've got this.  I think I can do it.”
    “Good.  I'm sure you can.”
    But as she descended the stairs in front of me, I realized I had
one more question.
    “Mrs. Sheridan, there is one more thing I'm curious about. 
Can I ask why you're leaving?”
    She turned around quickly and glanced to her left.  I
realized we were on the landing just outside Mr. Hunter's office.  She
took hold of my elbow and pulled me down the remaining stairs, through the hall
and into the kitchen.  Once there, she pulled a door out of a recess and
closed it tightly.  Ah, the sliding door.
    “Sylvia, I just want you to know that I'm leaving because I want
to, not because Mr. Hunter asked me to.”
    “Okay, but why?”
    “Why?  Why does anyone do anything?  My time here was
up.  I need new things to do.”
    I nodded, accepting her explanation, but looked at her
expectantly, hoping she'd say more.
    I watched her debate inwardly whether to go on. Then she sighed
and said, “Mr. Hunter is very particular about certain things, dinner being one
of them, the way he likes to be waited on.”  She folded her hands in front
of her, rubbing her fingers together.  “I've never liked that part of the
job, making dinner and serving it.  I don't mind doing housework for a
living, but I'm not a waitress.  I tolerated it because the hours are easy
and the pay is good, but I don't know, this last year it's just been too
much.  He's gotten more demanding, harder to please.  I don't like
being made to feel like a servant.”  She looked at me carefully. 
“He's not a bad person, just difficult in some respects.”
    “He made you feel like a servant?”
    “Not all the time.  Like I said, I rarely see him until
dinner, but this last year, I don't know, he's started snapping at me, treating
me like I'm beneath him.  It's gotten to the point that I don't enjoy
working here anymore.”  She gave me a reassuring smile.  “But
hopefully you won't have that problem since you're only here for the summer.”
    “If he tries to treat me like that, I'm out of here.” She patted
my elbow and said that she knew I'd be okay, and I assured her that of course
I'd be fine. But there was no denying the tiny frisson of emotion that ran
through my body as she waved goodbye to me from the back door and I headed back
to town.  I tried to identify what I was feeling.  Anxiety, yes,
nervousness, yes, but it was more than just being apprehensive about starting a
new job.  I was feeling something else as well, and the closest I could
come to identifying it was anticipation.

Chapter
3
    “No, this won't do. Not at all.”  Britt was in the living room
of the third apartment we'd looked at that morning, her eyes on the street
outside the window.  “You can't live right off the sidewalk like
this.  It isn't safe.”
    I agreed with her that this place wasn't ideal, but my definition
of acceptable living quarters had begun to shift after seeing what was still
available in town.  Apparently the best apartments had been snapped up
much earlier in the spring by other students staying for the summer.  All
that seemed to be left were the seediest, least safe options.  The first
place we'd looked at had the moldiest bathroom I'd ever smelled.  The
second place was as small as my dorm room and didn't even have a kitchen. 
This one was more spacious, and at least it was clean, but as Britt had pointed
out, the front door was mere feet from one of the busiest streets in town.
    “It's just for the summer, Britt.  I'm sure I'd survive.”
    A truck drove past just then, its engine so loud I couldn't hear
Britt's response.
    “It must get quieter at night, right?” I offered.
    A man walked by on the sidewalk.  He looked in at me as he
passed, so close that if not for the glass between us I could have reached out
and touched him.  Living here would be like living in a store front.
    Britt shook her head.  “We'll keep looking.  There