The Glass House People Read Online Free Page B

the counter and moved closer to the door to listen.
    "Mama, please! You know nothing of my life, how hard it's been to manage on my own. You have no idea what my children have been doing, what their interests are—nothing!"
    "And who is to blame for that, Hanny Lynn?"
    "I am! I know it! I accept that blame. But Beth and Tom are good kids. They're just exhausted now, poor things. That's all. We've been on the road for days."
    "That girl of yours," pressed Grandmother, her voice rising over Hannah's. "You make it clear to her there's to be no running around with boys here. She seems mannerly enough right now, but then you always seemed that way, too. Like mother, like daughter, I expect—"
    Her voice dropped, and Beth moved back to the sink and plunged her hands into hot, soapy water. She scrubbed the stew pot with long, angry strokes.
    Then Tom was beside her, grabbing up a dry tea towel. "I'm helping."
    "Sure," she said, moving over. Who could blame him for not wanting to sit in the living room with them?
    "You know what gets me?" he asked in a low voice.
    "What?"
    "The whole time Grandmother was going on about how badly we've been brought up, tears were falling down her face. And old skinnybones was sitting back in her corner in the dark—and she was
smiling,
Beth! Grandmother was crying and Aunt Iris was smiling the whole time."

    Carrying Romps, Beth went up to bed early. It was true, as her mother had told Grandmother, that she was exhausted from traveling. But she wanted to be alone more than anything. The days on the road had afforded her little privacy—cooped up in the car by day and still together with her mother and Tom in a single motel room by night. It would feel luxurious just to stretch out on top of the bed, all alone, and write in her journal.
    She'd kept a journal for four years now, since she was twelve, and was already on Volume Eight. She wrote down daily events, dreams she remembered when she woke up, and plans for her future with Ray, when she'd be out of high school and would stop feeling so much like a kid next to him.
    She also made sketches of stained-glass windows she hoped to make someday when she got her own studio. She usually worked at the kitchen table in their apartment or after hours at Glassworks. Jane Simmons, the owner of Glassworks, offered her and Ray space to do their own work on their own time. She was impressed, she'd told them, with the artistic promise both of them showed. Ray was a professional in his own right already, Jane Simmons said. And Beth was a rising star.
    She lay on the lumpy bed in the hot bedroom and thought about that now. She liked the sound of those words: "Rising Star." Maybe that would make a good name for the shop she and Ray would have. She'd call him in the morning and see what he thought. Tell him they'd arrived safely, too.
    She heard her mother, Aunt Iris, and Grandmother on the stairs and then in the upstairs hall outside her door. "It's so nice to be back," Hannah said. "I'm glad you've let me come back."
    "You're our daughter, Hanny Lynn," said Grandmother simply.
    "Yes—but I didn't know whether I'd be welcome."
    "There's a lot of water under the bridge now. Still, families need to stick together." Grandmother's voice grew fainter as she walked down the hallway to the bedroom she shared with Grandad. "Families ought to take care of each other. Good-night now."
    "Good-night," Hannah said. "And good-night to you, too, Iris."
    Aunt Iris started to laugh. The hair on the back of Beth's neck prickled.
    "That's a good one, Hanny Lynn. That's a good one!" laughed Aunt Iris.
    "I don't know what you're talking about, Iris." Hannah's voice was tight. "I'm going to bed."
    "Doing what you're good at, hmm, Hanny?" The laughter became a cackle. "Glad to be back in your own little bed—or would you really rather be all tucked up in the Lodge?"
    "Shut up, Iris."
    "That's what I thought."
    "I am perfectly happy to be back in my old room."
    Aunt