then said, "Maybe a little more if they sell right away and I don't have to reduce them."
Annabeth nodded again. "That's great." It was money all right, but not very much. There was no way she could make a living painting on furniture.
"Did you want a small advance on them?"
"No, that's not necessary. You pay me when you sell them. But Etta--what if nobody wants them?"
"I'll pay you no matter what, but somebody will want them, I'm sure. And then maybe you can paint more for me."
"Okay," agreed Annabeth, still worried that Etta would lose money on her work.
She walked toward Gleason's Drug Store, which was perpendicular to the bank. The Help Wanted sign was still in the window. Thinking about her father and the concern in his voice when he asked her would she be returning home to live, Annabeth steeled her nerve and decided to take a risk. They probably wouldn't want to hire her, but she was going to ask anyway.
"Hello," she said to Chuck Gleason. "I was wondering about the job."
"Oh. Yes, we need help at the soda fountain. And sometimes at the cash register. The job only pays four..." Chuck looked at Annabeth, and he continued, "Well, all right, five dollars an hour. Interested?"
"Yes I am."
"Would Wednesday be too soon? I can't get a delivery of supplies before then."
"Wednesday will be just perfect." He wanted her! Just like that! Annabeth couldn't believe it; somebody gave her a job!
Sally was waiting with Jackson at the car when Annabeth returned. "Hi, Mom."
Annabeth smiled at the kids, saying, "Guess what? I just got a job!"
"Doing what?" asked Sally.
Annabeth laughed. "I'm Gleason's new soda jerk!"
"Oh, Mom, you shouldn't have to do that all day long. That's a job for a kid."
"Congratulations," said Jackson.
"I think I'm lucky they wanted me. So what are you kids up to?"
"Jackson wants me to go to dinner with him. You don't mind do you?"
"Of course not. You go on. I'll see you later."
Annabeth drove back toward home, thinking about all the events of the day. She would have to sit down with Maggie and work through the whole misunder-standing. For the first time since her mother died, Annabeth really needed Maggie, and the thought of anger between them was really too much to bear. She pulled up at the side of the house where she usually parked--in front of R.J.'s collection of heaps. R.J. himself was on a ladder in front of the house, painting the trim, covering over all the designs she had painted.
"What are you doing?" Annabeth spoke to R.J., who was balancing himself on the tall ladder which had been propped against the front of the house.
"I'm gettin' this place ready to sell. Can't have all these tacky gee-gaws plastered all over the place."
Annabeth thought about the events of the last few weeks. She remembered the humiliation of the party. She thought about her car and the trouble it had caused her for months. What was the point of being married to an ex-mechanic if you had to drive a car that wouldn't run? Instead of tears rising up into her eyes, anger flooded her heart. It was an unusual sensation for Annabeth, but one which felt appropriate at last. She reached out toward the ladder where her husband perched and gave it a tentative shake.
"Now this is the way it's going to be," she said. "You get down off that ladder, and you better make it quick or I'll help you down. You get in your van and drive out of here. This is my home and you're not taking it from me. You want a divorce. Fine. Call my lawyer. In the meantime, I don't expect you to show your face around here. I'm finished with you, R.J. Welner."
R.J. looked astonished. These were the first angry words she had ever spoken to him. He grasped the ladder more tightly as she gave it another tentative shake. The can of paint fell from his hand, spattering the grass below. Annabeth shook the
Annabeth nodded again. "That's great." It was money all right, but not very much. There was no way she could make a living painting on furniture.
"Did you want a small advance on them?"
"No, that's not necessary. You pay me when you sell them. But Etta--what if nobody wants them?"
"I'll pay you no matter what, but somebody will want them, I'm sure. And then maybe you can paint more for me."
"Okay," agreed Annabeth, still worried that Etta would lose money on her work.
She walked toward Gleason's Drug Store, which was perpendicular to the bank. The Help Wanted sign was still in the window. Thinking about her father and the concern in his voice when he asked her would she be returning home to live, Annabeth steeled her nerve and decided to take a risk. They probably wouldn't want to hire her, but she was going to ask anyway.
"Hello," she said to Chuck Gleason. "I was wondering about the job."
"Oh. Yes, we need help at the soda fountain. And sometimes at the cash register. The job only pays four..." Chuck looked at Annabeth, and he continued, "Well, all right, five dollars an hour. Interested?"
"Yes I am."
"Would Wednesday be too soon? I can't get a delivery of supplies before then."
"Wednesday will be just perfect." He wanted her! Just like that! Annabeth couldn't believe it; somebody gave her a job!
Sally was waiting with Jackson at the car when Annabeth returned. "Hi, Mom."
Annabeth smiled at the kids, saying, "Guess what? I just got a job!"
"Doing what?" asked Sally.
Annabeth laughed. "I'm Gleason's new soda jerk!"
"Oh, Mom, you shouldn't have to do that all day long. That's a job for a kid."
"Congratulations," said Jackson.
"I think I'm lucky they wanted me. So what are you kids up to?"
"Jackson wants me to go to dinner with him. You don't mind do you?"
"Of course not. You go on. I'll see you later."
Annabeth drove back toward home, thinking about all the events of the day. She would have to sit down with Maggie and work through the whole misunder-standing. For the first time since her mother died, Annabeth really needed Maggie, and the thought of anger between them was really too much to bear. She pulled up at the side of the house where she usually parked--in front of R.J.'s collection of heaps. R.J. himself was on a ladder in front of the house, painting the trim, covering over all the designs she had painted.
"What are you doing?" Annabeth spoke to R.J., who was balancing himself on the tall ladder which had been propped against the front of the house.
"I'm gettin' this place ready to sell. Can't have all these tacky gee-gaws plastered all over the place."
Annabeth thought about the events of the last few weeks. She remembered the humiliation of the party. She thought about her car and the trouble it had caused her for months. What was the point of being married to an ex-mechanic if you had to drive a car that wouldn't run? Instead of tears rising up into her eyes, anger flooded her heart. It was an unusual sensation for Annabeth, but one which felt appropriate at last. She reached out toward the ladder where her husband perched and gave it a tentative shake.
"Now this is the way it's going to be," she said. "You get down off that ladder, and you better make it quick or I'll help you down. You get in your van and drive out of here. This is my home and you're not taking it from me. You want a divorce. Fine. Call my lawyer. In the meantime, I don't expect you to show your face around here. I'm finished with you, R.J. Welner."
R.J. looked astonished. These were the first angry words she had ever spoken to him. He grasped the ladder more tightly as she gave it another tentative shake. The can of paint fell from his hand, spattering the grass below. Annabeth shook the
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