A Thorn in the Bush Read Online Free Page A

Paulita’s legs. But could it make such a difference as that?
    “It this a characteristic of all artists from América del Norte?” he asked.
    “Only of a certain type,” said Mrs. Ross. “And this one shows all the symptoms of being that type.”
    Don Jaime nodded. “To be sure.” And then so low that Mrs. Ross almost missed it: “Gringos!”
    “You have come to a decision?” ventured Mrs. Ross.
    A sigh convulsed Don Jaime’s thin chest. “As God wills it.” He raised a finger. “But such things take time! It must be done with circumspection.” Then, to let Mrs. Ross know that he was not an utter fool: “… not like the one who had to go to the hospital.”
    Mrs. Ross coughed, raised a hand to her mouth to hide a smile. She composed herself, lowered the hand. “I knew I could trust you, Jaime. You have so much experience in matters of the world, such a penetrating mind. You’re the only one who can handle this in a way that will avert tragedy.”
    “You are too kind,” murmured Don Jaime. And he thought: Could it be? Is this possible? The young man appears so talented—so simpático.
    ***

Chapter 5
    The next morning, Friday, Mrs. Ross again found Hoblitt bent over his easel in the shade of the balcony when she emerged to water her plants. The brush moved at a furious rate: dip and stroke, dip and stroke. Little rivers of color blended into the portrait. Paulita’s figure appeared almost completed, but the background still showed raw patches of canvas.
    Fortified by her angry reveries, Mrs. Ross thought: Just say something to me today, Mr. Smart Alec! I’ll burn your ears off!
    But Hoblitt ignored her presence.
    Mrs. Ross sniffed. Paint away, fool! You’ll be gone soon.
    Paulita executed and advanced ploys in the eye-dodging game, looked up at the balcony. “Good morning, Mrs. Ross.”
    “Buenos días , Paulita.”
    It stopped there, inhibited by the presence beneath the balcony.
    Mrs. Ross smiled, though, paused to admire Paulita. The young woman still worked at the punto de cruz . A great red poinsettia was emerging beneath her needle. She wore green bows in her hair this morning, but Mrs. Ross noted that Hoblitt thus far had ignored the color change. The bows of the painting remained red.
    The easel creaked as Hoblitt adjusted its position, studied the scene.
    Paulita stopped to thread a needle, used the diversion for a series of new gambits in eye-dodging.
    Mrs. Ross shook her head in admiration. She could not be certain because of the angle, but she thought she saw Hoblitt grin before he again bent to his work. For no reason she could explain, this sent Mrs. Ross’s thoughts into the penetrating character analysis emerging beneath the artist’s brush: passionate but cruel—that was the Paulita of the portrait.
    Anger flared in Mrs. Ross. A damnable young man! Coming in here without asking! Disrupting a nice, orderly life!
    She slammed the French doors as she went inside.
    ***

Chapter 6
    At noon, Serena bustled in, her shopping basket on one thick, brown arm. The basket bulged with tomatoes, bananas, a brown paper package of meat, a stack of tortillas wrapped in cloth, onions, oranges, a mound of green chili peppers. She began recounting her morning’s net of gossip as she unloaded the basket onto the grey boards of the kitchen table.
    “In the evening of yesterday,” she said, “Don Jaime made for himself a visit to the Señor Hoblitt.”
    Mrs. Ross experienced a cold sensation in her stomach. She stood in the doorway to the dining room, just out of the chalk glare that always filled the kitchen at mid-day.
    “And María Carlotta, who delivered some fruit to the little house just then, saw them drinking together—gin and limes in the large glasses!”
    Mrs. Ross’s lips formed the automatic reply: “How brutal.”
    “And they looked at a painting which the Señor Hoblitt keeps in a locked box when he is not working on it. Don Jaime said he likes this painting very