Sweet Thunder Read Free Page B

delivered.”
    â€œThat leads to my next question.” The chair groaning under him as he shifted haunches, Sandison waited for me to ask it. I gestured to include everything from ancient Ajax guarding the entrance to the mansion to the gift of title in my pocket. “Why?”
    â€œYou don’t think I’m going to live forever, do you?” he said, mildly for him. “You might as well have the place instead of the taxman.”
    That seemed to sum the matter up, at least as far as he was concerned. It was only the start of it for me. “Thank you very much, I think. But ah, taxes, and upkeep—”
    â€œCoal,” he added to the list with a grunt. “The place eats it like a locomotive.”
    â€œâ€”and staff—”
    â€œThe cook and a couple of maids left, after Dora passed away. I figured you and the missus would take care of all that your own way anyhow.”
    â€œâ€”all of which,” I drew a needed breath, “leads me to wonder if I might have my old job back. A steady wage would be most welcome at this point, Sandy.”
    For the first time, he looked less than commanding, the chair groaning some more as he shifted uncomfortably. “Can’t be done, Morgan, as much as I’d like to. The trustees have gone off their rocker about the payroll. The idiots won’t even let me hire a book-cart pusher, let alone an assistant like you were. It’s a damn shame.” His turn to take in the mansion with a gesture. “Naturally I’ll kick in some rent. I’ll discuss that with the landlady,” he said with another glint, “she looks like that is right up her alley.” From under snowy cowlick and frosty eyebrows he studied me in a way I knew all too well. “The rest, though, you’re going to have to provide by putting that head of yours to work, aren’t you.”
    â€œI see.” I wished I did.
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    That night in bed, an ornate one that must have held Sandison and Dora comfortably enough but was big as a barge for us, neither Grace nor I could close our eyes, let alone sleep. A large arched window at the end of the bedroom looked out over the lights of the city, with the white web of stars above like a reflection. I have always loved the night sky and its desires coded in constellations and comets, but it was not that keeping me awake. It was Grace.
    â€œI have to keep pinching myself that this is really happening, Morrie.”
    â€œI know what you mean.”
    â€œI’m practically black and blue.”
    â€œNo doubt.”
    She turned toward me, her flaxen hair garlanding the pillow. “I have to tell you something. Don’t take it wrong. Promise? This, this palace or whatever it is, is a housekeeper’s nightmare. I mean, it’s wonderful, in all other ways. Everything done so fine. The woodwork. The furniture. The Turkey rugs. But it’s so”—I could just make out her face in the dark as she searched for the proper word—“endless.”
    â€œYes, I’ve begun to notice that.”
    â€œNot that His Nibs”—the jocular lordly moniker fit Sandison rather nicely, I had to grant her—“isn’t the soul of generosity for giving us the house. But he had reason to, didn’t he. Imagine how he must have rattled around in here alone until he had his, his—”
    â€œEpiphany.”
    â€œâ€”whatever you want to call it, to pass this barn of a place along to us and turn himself into a high-class boarder. Him and a thousand books.” She was gaining speed all the time. “It’s too much house even for me, Morrie. I could work myself to a nub trying to keep up with all that needs doing, and it would still gain on me every hour of every day. Can we afford hired help?”
    â€œIn a word, no.”
    â€œThen I know of only one thing to do. I take that back. Two.”
    â€œGrace, love,