your fingers with your other hand on top. In here, shiny maple country furniture crowded in bunches.The chairs had plastic wraps on the arms. The dining room table was piled with paper and files and newspaper clippings, all their edges straight as if that made it okay.
On the hall divider shelf sat three ugly teddy bears, one dressed in baby clothes. That one stuck out over the edge and Dolly nearly knocked it off. She stopped it wobbling. The clock in the hall made a really loud ticking. The mail was there: Mr. B. Bunt, Mr. & Mrs. Bunt, Occupant. Nothing interesting. She put the pretzels back in the pantry and went down the hall, peeking into two little bedrooms packed tight with boxes and papers: too hard to search. Their bathroom was pink and black, a woolly swan on the shower curtain. Dusty razor blades and pill bottles stuffed in the medicine chest. Nothing was very clean.
The main bedroom was full of bears, like a collection on TV: shelves of them, a hundred teddy bears sitting all over a giant bed covered with drooping pink satin, like icing. Dolly sat on the slippery bed and played with some of the bears, the less-pink ones. One lying close by the pillow had a nightcap on and a candle in his paw, and a zipper pocket on his butt to hold pyjamas. He crinkled. Dolly unzipped his pocket, and there was a lot of money. A lot of money, all sharp-edged brown hundred dollar bills.
She sat looking at it. First and last month’s rent, right there.
A rush of air gasped down the hall, as the front door opened.
She’d never gotten caught before. Clary would be really mad. Dolly darted into the closet and pulled the half-door shut, then thought, stupid! Maybe it was clothes they’d forgotten.
She dodged out of the closet, but there was nowhere else to hide in this bear-filled room. Mrs. Bunt trotted down the hall murmuring, “Where, now where?” She was coming to the bedroom. Dolly slid gently back into the closet behind the folding door, squeezing Mr. Bunt’s suits to the end. Her head filled with his old aftershave stink. She could see Mrs. Bunt’s beigey-grey chickenhead through the crack of the door, rummaging on the dresser. Next she would look in the closet. Mr. Bunt yelled from the front door: he’d had enough, he was sick of waiting for her, she was disorganized and sloppy and a waste of air. Mrs. Bunt ran to the bathroom.
Dolly heard her crying, “Oh! I found them! Don’t be mad! I left them on the sink!”
The front door slammed shut again and the blinds on the bedroom window clapped as the air in the house settled back. Dolly stayed still until she heard the truck fade away, then climbed out. She zipped up the bear’s butt with the hundreds still inside. She knew where they were, and she could get in here any time. She put him back on the bed exactly where he had been, then went out to the living room and ran her fingers down the yellowy sheer curtains, staring out at what the world looked like from the Bunts’ house. She was tempted to cut those curtains up with a big pair of scissors. But they might notice that.
Time to go. As she passed, she knocked the baby bear off the hall divider, but she picked it up and put it back carefully. Then she went back and flushed a pair of Mr. Bunt’s socks down the toilet, and skipped out the back door.
Clara took the elevator to the fifth floor, tossing over possible lies. She couldn’t very well say she’d been upset by a call from Clayton. She had stopped downstairs to get flowers. But up in the room, Lorraine’s face was already shining, and bouquets ranged all along the window ledge on the opposite side of the bed.
“Hi!” she said. “More flowers! Must be my horoscope today, hey?”
“My goodness,” Clara said. “How lovely.”
Lorraine had been eating her lunch with a good appetite, but she pushed the rolling table aside. “My brother! And look what else he brought.” She shuffled her feet beside the bed for a pair of moccasins, beaded all
On the hall divider shelf sat three ugly teddy bears, one dressed in baby clothes. That one stuck out over the edge and Dolly nearly knocked it off. She stopped it wobbling. The clock in the hall made a really loud ticking. The mail was there: Mr. B. Bunt, Mr. & Mrs. Bunt, Occupant. Nothing interesting. She put the pretzels back in the pantry and went down the hall, peeking into two little bedrooms packed tight with boxes and papers: too hard to search. Their bathroom was pink and black, a woolly swan on the shower curtain. Dusty razor blades and pill bottles stuffed in the medicine chest. Nothing was very clean.
The main bedroom was full of bears, like a collection on TV: shelves of them, a hundred teddy bears sitting all over a giant bed covered with drooping pink satin, like icing. Dolly sat on the slippery bed and played with some of the bears, the less-pink ones. One lying close by the pillow had a nightcap on and a candle in his paw, and a zipper pocket on his butt to hold pyjamas. He crinkled. Dolly unzipped his pocket, and there was a lot of money. A lot of money, all sharp-edged brown hundred dollar bills.
She sat looking at it. First and last month’s rent, right there.
A rush of air gasped down the hall, as the front door opened.
She’d never gotten caught before. Clary would be really mad. Dolly darted into the closet and pulled the half-door shut, then thought, stupid! Maybe it was clothes they’d forgotten.
She dodged out of the closet, but there was nowhere else to hide in this bear-filled room. Mrs. Bunt trotted down the hall murmuring, “Where, now where?” She was coming to the bedroom. Dolly slid gently back into the closet behind the folding door, squeezing Mr. Bunt’s suits to the end. Her head filled with his old aftershave stink. She could see Mrs. Bunt’s beigey-grey chickenhead through the crack of the door, rummaging on the dresser. Next she would look in the closet. Mr. Bunt yelled from the front door: he’d had enough, he was sick of waiting for her, she was disorganized and sloppy and a waste of air. Mrs. Bunt ran to the bathroom.
Dolly heard her crying, “Oh! I found them! Don’t be mad! I left them on the sink!”
The front door slammed shut again and the blinds on the bedroom window clapped as the air in the house settled back. Dolly stayed still until she heard the truck fade away, then climbed out. She zipped up the bear’s butt with the hundreds still inside. She knew where they were, and she could get in here any time. She put him back on the bed exactly where he had been, then went out to the living room and ran her fingers down the yellowy sheer curtains, staring out at what the world looked like from the Bunts’ house. She was tempted to cut those curtains up with a big pair of scissors. But they might notice that.
Time to go. As she passed, she knocked the baby bear off the hall divider, but she picked it up and put it back carefully. Then she went back and flushed a pair of Mr. Bunt’s socks down the toilet, and skipped out the back door.
Clara took the elevator to the fifth floor, tossing over possible lies. She couldn’t very well say she’d been upset by a call from Clayton. She had stopped downstairs to get flowers. But up in the room, Lorraine’s face was already shining, and bouquets ranged all along the window ledge on the opposite side of the bed.
“Hi!” she said. “More flowers! Must be my horoscope today, hey?”
“My goodness,” Clara said. “How lovely.”
Lorraine had been eating her lunch with a good appetite, but she pushed the rolling table aside. “My brother! And look what else he brought.” She shuffled her feet beside the bed for a pair of moccasins, beaded all
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