Read A Thorn in the Bush for Free Online Page A

her employer sit up, swooped the tray onto the waiting lap.
    A dollop of coffee sloshed onto the saucer.
    Mrs. Ross frowned at the spilled coffee, frowned even deeper at the pill, waited for the morning’s seasoning of death and destruction.
    “It is a beautiful day,” said Serena.
    Mrs. Ross looked up, wondered: What now? Serena was smiling.
    “The eggs are very fresh,” said Serena. “The Señora Gonzales had some extra that she permitted me to buy.”
    She’s trying to distract me, thought Mrs. Ross. She’s put something in the food.
    “I will make your favorite tamales for lunch,” said Serena.
    Mrs. Ross picked up the dishes one at a time, sniffed their contents. Serena took this opportunity to fluff the pillows behind her employer’s head.
    “What medicine have you introduced into my food?” demanded Mrs. Ross.
    “But nothing, Señora! Only the pill which Dr. Herrera says you must take with the coffee.”
    Mrs. Ross stared the flat Aztec face, cast through her memory of experiences with Serena. There had to be a clue to this unnatural happiness in a sickroom. What was the switch that turned off Calamity Jane? She had it: a dream! That’s what had done it the last time.
    “You’ve had a dream,” said Mrs. Ross. She took up her fork, snared a bit of egg floating in the milk.
    “But no, Señora! Last night I slept the dreamless sleep of a blessed infant.”
    Mrs. Ross swallowed the bite of egg. “Why are you so happy, then? Have you …”
    “Happy?” Serena’s features sagged. “Who could be happy on this day? Last night …” Her voice cracked. “… last night an avalanche took the lives of seventy-one helpless innocents in the mountains of Switzerland.”
    Well … that’s more like it, thought Mrs. Ross. She turned back to the breakfast, hesitated, said: “Is that Hoblitt still painting out front?”
    Serena brightened. “No, Señora. He works in his rooms. But already today I have seen him.
    “Oh?” Mrs. Ross studied the maid’s face. It was as though two puppet-masters fought for control of Serena’s expression: one pulling up, one pulling down. The happiness mask triumphed. Serena beamed.
    Mrs. Ross said: “Where have you seen him?”
    “I delivered some of the eggs from Mrs. Gonzales to María Carlotta,” said Serena. “You do not mind?”
    “Of course not. What happened?”
    Serena put a hand to her breast. “The Señor Hoblitt desires to do a portrait of me!”
    God in heaven! thought Mrs. Ross. She said: “He asked you to pose for him?”
    “Yes. With María Carlotta. He desires to portray us at the laundry tubs … together. Is it not an honor?” She half turned her head, looked archly at Mrs. Ross. “Such an artist!”
    “And when are you supposed to do this posing?” asked Mrs. Ross.
    “It will be only for an hour in the mornings,” said Serena. “I will start earlier with my work for you. It will not discomfort you in any way.”
    Mrs. Ross fumed. She thought: Now! When Jaime rids us of this beastly young man, I will have to contend with Serena’s moping about because her picture was not painted.
    “I will let nothing evil befall you,” said Serena.
    “Artists have been known to change their minds,” said Mrs. Ross. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
    “You will see,” said Serena. “You will truly see.”
    “Yes, we’ll see,” said Mrs. Ross.
    “Well, I must get to my work,” said Serena. “There is much to do.” She turned away humming. And at the door, she did a little dance step that made her tubular body almost appear light and dainty.
    That damnable young man! thought Mrs. Ross.
    ***

Chapter 9
    Shortly after noon, Serena waltzed into the sickroom with the luncheon tray. A slender blue vase containing three yellow roses graced the center of the tray.
    “Your tamales, Señora,” said Serena as she deposited the tray in Mrs. Ross’s lap, whisked a napkin off the plate. “Sweet ones,” she announced. “Just the way you like