Five Minutes More Read Online Free Page B

there’s someone inside moaning, half starved, for food. I can’t remember if I ate any supper.
    I creep downstairs, placing each foot carefully, avoiding all the squeaky places on the stairs. I don’t want to wake up my mom. I don’t want to wake up Claire.
    And then I hear voices. My heart begins to pound in double time. I listen. It’s my mother. And Claire.
    I press myself against the wall and move through the dining room to the living room doorway. I don’t know why I’m hiding. The French doors are partly open. I lean around the doorframe and take a quick look through the closest pane of glass.
    Mom is curled in the corner of the sofa, in a circle of light from a nearby lamp. She’s wearing the plaid housecoat I gave her last Christmas. Claire is sitting in the wing chair, in a silky pink-flowered robe, perfect posture as usual.
    â€œ...just makes more sense to do it now,” Claire is saying.
    Mom seems to be looking beyond Claire. I lean a bit closer to the open doors to catch her voice.
    â€œWe just had your father’s funeral today,” she says. “I haven’t been able to think beyond that. I’m not even sure about all the details of his will.” She sounds very tired.
    â€œThe tea set belonged to my great-grandmother. I know my father would want me to have it. And as for the pearl necklace, you know that it’s always stayed in the family.”
    â€œYou’re not the only person in the family.”
    â€œI don’t think a teenager would have much use for a string of pearls.”
    â€œD’Arcy isn’t going to be a teenager forever.”
    â€œIn other words, you want everything for your child.”
    My dad’s only been gone for a few days, and already they’re fighting over his things.
    â€œShe’s your sister, Claire,” Mom says. “I’m not trying to cheat you out of anything, but I will not allow you to take things from this house until I know what your father wanted. I’ll see that anything that’s been left to you is sent. I wouldn’t want you to have to make another trip.”
    â€œYou’re being unreasonable, Leah. My father—”
    My mother’s head snaps up. She’s looking directly at Claire now. “
My husband
is dead. I’m entitled to be somewhat unreasonable.” There is silence.
    Claire’s voice is low, and I almost miss that she’s started talking. “And what kind of a wife were you, Leah? Didn’t you notice what was going on with him or did you just not care? My father killed himself. Did you even try to help him?”
    One of my mother’s hands snaps up, and for a second I expect her to get up and slap Claire. Then the hand drops into her lap, the fingers pulled into a fist. I press the heel of my own hand over my mouth.
    â€œYou don’t have a clue what was going on here. You didn’t even know your father.” My mother’s voice is tight with anger. “Where the hell were you, Claire? Acting like a spoiled child because Mommy and Daddy got divorced. You wouldn’t come to see him or spend any time with us. Do you know howmuch you hurt him? And he never stopped trying with you. You weren’t much of a daughter, Claire.”
    Mom lets out a breath. “My husband’s things stay in my husband’s home until I know what he wants me to do with them. Good night, Claire.” She puts her head back against the sofa and closes her eyes.
    Claire gets up, and in a minute I hear the flap of her slippers going upstairs.
    I rub my eyes with the back of my hand and swallow the tears before they can get away. It wouldn’t be this way if my dad were here. The last time he came home, it was from Alaska. We had grilled cheese sandwiches in the middle of the night, and my dad told us all about the bears he’d gone to photograph. My mom said, “There’s school tomorrow.”
    Dad swirled her around