The Education of Madeline Read Free

oversize dog, she tamped down the giddy pleasure welling up inside her. It was almost too easy, the way he had fallen into her lap. Now all she had to do was convince him.
    They reached her house within fifteen minutes. Fifteen silent minutes. Mr. O’Neal had not asked one question about what kinds of repairs he would be doing. Or where he’d be living. Or even why she would step in to stop the hanging. Perhaps he wasn’t the curious type.
    The house was two stories high, with a large wraparound porch and a swing that danced gently in the breeze. It was enormous by any standard, and for just one person, it was simply too big. She’d painted it the brightest blue she could find and turned it into a boardinghouse of sorts. Whenever a stranger came to town, provided they were a good sort, she offered them a place to stay for a night.
    Madeline never expected money for it. She already had enough to last her two lifetimes. No, she’d started doing it for the company, to give back some of the blood her father had drained from the world.
    Then it became a way for her to thumb her nose at the judgmental town that never even gave her a chance. She bore the brand of being a Brewster and all that it entailed. Her father’s life had stolen her future, so she lived for the present.
    They walked up the three steps to the front door, which opened to reveal Eppie, her housekeeper, cook, and friend.
    â€œMadeline! Are you crazy, girl? You can’t save everyone!”
    Eppie was a young mulatto who had been Madeline’s first guest a few weeks after her father’s funeral. As a freed slave, Eppie had drifted from place to place until she ended up in Plum Creek. A lasting friendship was born immediately. She had been living with Madeline ever since. A scarf tightly wrapped her dark hair, and the bright purple dress accented her coloring. She always wore bright colors, said it made each day a little better.
    â€œGood afternoon, Eppie. This is Mr. O’Neal. He’s our new guest.”
    Eppie gaped. “Are you sure there is a man under all that dirt?”
    Madeline smiled. “We’ll find out, won’t we? Let’s start by letting him come inside.”
    Eppie frowned at her, but she went back in the house. Madeline turned to Mr. O’Neal. She was surprised to find him inches from her back. A wave of awareness swept over her, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind.
    â€œWelcome to my house, Mr. O’Neal.”
    He looked at her for a moment and then at the house. “Quite a house. Is it just you and the girl?”
    â€œAnd you. For now.”
    He opened his mouth as if to say something else but closed it and gestured with his hand for her to lead the way.
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    After an incredibly awkward moment in the foyer, Madeline sent Eppie to the general store to see if they had any clothes that might fit Mr. O’Neal.
    Madeline brought him upstairs to the bathing room, and after explaining how to use the running water, left him with two cakes of soap, three towels, and her father’s shaving gear.
    Eppie came back with a pair of trousers and one shirt she had bought from Mr. Hansen at the mill. He was about the only man in town as large as the new houseguest. She’d also made arrangements with Brenda Monahan, the seamstress in town, to come by and measure him in the morning for new clothes.
    After delivering the new clothes outside the bathroom door, Madeline went downstairs and waited for him in the sitting room. It was her favorite room because it had been her mother’s and had sat untouched and unused for twenty years.
    After her father died, Madeline had opened it up, aired it out, and claimed it as her sanctuary. She had all her precious books in the shelves on the walls. Books were her greatest passion. She was never without one or two or even three lying around, waiting for her to get back to them.
    She picked up Sense and Sensibility , usually one of her favorites,