Mildred Pierce - James M. Cain [9]
In a moment the door opened, and little Ray trotted in, weeping. Mildred held up the covers, folded the little thing in, snuggled her against her stomach, whispered and crooned to her until the weeping stopped. Then, after staring at the ceiling for a time, she fell asleep.
CHAPTER II
FOR A DAY OR TWO after Bert left, Mildred lived in a sort of fool's paradise, meaning she got two orders for cakes and three orders for pies. They kept her bustlingly busy, and she kept thinking what she would say to Bert, when he dropped around to see the children: "Oh, we're getting along all right—no need for you to worry. I've got all the work I can do, and more. Just goes to show that when a person's willing to work there still seems to be work to be done." Also, she conned over a slightly different version, for Mr. Pierce and Mom: "Me? I'm doing fine. I've got more orders now than I can fill—but thank you for your kind offers, just the same." Mr. Pierce's fainthearted inquiries still rankled with her, and, it pleased her that she could give the pair of them a good waspish sting, and then sit back and watch their faces. She was a little given to rehearsing things in her mind, and having imaginary triumphs over people who had upset her in one way and another.
But soon she began to get frightened. Several days went by, and there were no orders. Then there came a letter from her mother, mainly about the A. T. & T., which she bad bought outright and still held, and which had fallen to some absurd figure. She was quite explicit about blaming this all on Bert, and seemed to feel there was something he could do about it, and should do. And such part of the letter as wasn't about the A. T. & T. was about Mr. Engel's shipchandler-business. At the moment it seemed that the only cash customers were bootleggers, but they all used light boats, and Mr. Engel was stocked with heavy gear, for steamers. So Mildred was directed to drive down to Wilmington and see if any of the chandlers there would take this stuff off his hands, in exchange for the lighter articles used by speedboats. Mildred broke into a hysterical laugh as she read this, for the idea of going around, trying to get rid of a truckload of anchors, struck her as indescribably comic. And in the same mail was a brief communication from the gas company, headed "Third Notice," and informing her that unless her bill was paid in five days service would be discontinued.
Of the three dollars she got from Mrs. Whitley, and the nine she got from the other orders, she still had a few dollars left. So she walked down to the gas company office and paid the bill, carefully saving the receipt. Then she counted her money and stopped by a market, where she bought a chicken, a quarter pound of hot dogs, some vegetables, and a quart of milk. The chicken, first baked, then creamed, then made into three neat croquettes, would provision her over the weekend. The hot dogs were a luxury. She disapproved of them, on principle, but the children loved them, and she always tried to have some around, for bites between meals. The milk was a sacred duty. No matter how gritty things got, Mildred always managed to have money for Veda's piano lessons, and for all the milk the children could drink.
This was a Saturday morning, and when she got home she found Mr. Pierce there. He had come to invite the children over for the weekend, —"no use coming back here with them. I'll bring them direct to