A Dream for Addie Read Online Free Page B

was home from work, and he and Grandma were out in back, working in the garden. It would soon be time for planting the earliest vegetables, and it was always part of my job to help get them in and keep them weeded through the summer. Today was the day for raking and cleaning out the garden plot and getting it ready.
    Dad was still in his khaki work clothes and was busy laying out string to mark off the rows. Grandma was breaking up the clods of freshly spaded dirt with her hoe. She had on her usual gardening costume, a faded house dress and apron, old stockings with runs in them, moccasins and a huge straw hat. She looked part Indian, part Mexican and part little old lady.
    Grandma was always careful to be presentable when she went out anywhere, but she thought it was a waste of good clothes to dress up at home. Sometimes I was embarrassed by the way she looked around the house, but most of my friends seemed not to notice her odd get-ups. They accepted her for what she was, and they all liked her lively personality and her interest in the things we did. She never minded having a houseful of us girls playing all-day Monopoly or planning a costume party or rehearsing one of our brilliant skits. She once told me it was because she didn’t see or hear well enough to be disturbed by us, but I knew she was just kidding me and that she really liked having young people around because she enjoyed them.
    I think Dad enjoyed my friends too, though he would never admit it. He would just pretend to be interested in his newspaper and would occasionally look up to ask how we could giggle so much without getting sick to our stomachs. I hoped he was in a good mood now, because I knew it was going to be a tricky situation.
    â€œHi!” I said, as I ran up to them in the garden. I was trying to sound casual, but I couldn’t hide my excitement.
    Grandma looked at my dress and knew something was going on.
    â€œWhere you been all dressed up?” she asked. I hated wearing anything fancier than jeans, and she knew it.
    â€œWe went to see Constance Payne and get her autograph.” I held my book out to show her.
    Dad turned around and looked at me. “I told you not to go over there,” he said, annoyed.
    â€œOh, Dad, she was great,” I said excitedly. “You should see her! She was wearing a fabulous Japanese kimono, black with great big red flowers, and these fantastic slippers with embroidery and sunglasses and bright red nail polish!”
    â€œSounds like the Dragon Lady to me,” he said sarcastically.
    â€œAnd the way she talks,” I went on. “It’s so elegant!”
    â€œMost actors talk phony,” he said, sounding unimpressed.
    â€œWell, she studied in England,” said Grandma. “I suppose she’s got an accent.”
    â€œYou should hear what she said about you,” I said to Dad, teasing him.
    â€œWhat?” he said, sounding curious.
    â€œOh, never mind!” I said, knowing he would be dying to find out. I thought it was a good way to distract him a bit before I told them about the dinner invitation.
    â€œYou can tell me,” Grandma said, smiling and suspecting I was up to something.
    â€œWell,” I said, pausing dramatically, “I said, ‘Do you remember James Mills?’ And she said, ‘Oh, he was a handsome devil!’”
    Grandma and I both laughed, and Dad looked embarrassed. He didn’t seem to know whether to believe it or not.
    â€œHow would she remember me?” he asked.
    â€œShe was positively exotic!” I went on. “And dramatic! And nice, too. You really should see her. I asked her to present our style show awards, but she can’t, she has to go back to New York … she’s doing a new play on Broadway.”
    â€œI told you not to pester her!” Dad said. “It’s not good manners to bother people that way.”
    â€œOh, she didn’t mind,” I said. “Besides, I made up