The Secret of Zormna Clendar - Julie Steimle (best autobiographies to read .txt) 📗

Mrs. McLenna’s gaze. “Actually, I am more or less here illegally.”

Jennifer stared hard. An illegal alien. She almost chuckled. An illegal alien who had an aunt who believed herself to be a Martian. Normally Jennifer would crack a joke. But considering the mood and the way Zormna had almost bitten off her head, she decided against it.

Both parents shared wan looks over Zormna’s disappointing reply.

“You didn’t go through the proper channels?” Her dad’s voice grew terse.

Zormna shrugged with another blank, stressed-out stare. “It was quite last minute. I was supposed to stay with my great aunt until other arrangements could be made. But now that this has fallen out….”

Jennifer’s father nodded, a little less accusatory. “I see. That’s how it is.”

But Jennifer did not see at all. The only thing she did see was the conspiratorial looks between her parents. They watched Zormna for a moment then whispered together.

Then, after another spate of whispers, they nodded in tandem and said, “You will stay here.”

Unprecedented, really. Jennifer could not account for it. Though the decision wasn’t unpleasant, no one in all her memory had actually been allowed to stay over at their house. No slumber parties ever. Not even best friends whom her parents had though very highly of. Had Zormna been vetted? Not in any way that Jennifer could see. But clearly the perfect blonde had passed all their criteria with glowing colors, and she would now be living with them—if only for a short time.

“Where will she stay?” Jennifer murmured out loud without meaning to. “On the hide-a-way bed in the family room? Because my room is already way too cramped with Mindy in there.”

Her parents turned with withering looks. They reminded Jennifer quickly, yet silently, that it was not her room, but the bedroom belonged equally to Mindy. Jennifer begged to differ.

“No,” her mother replied. “The attic is big enough.”

Jennifer snorted. She turned towards Zormna with an elbow nudge. “Hey, you wanna sleep in a dusty attic for a couple nights?”

Zormna remained unaffected by that bit of news. In fact, she still looked like someone had slapped her with a truck. Her arms hung down, crossed between her legs as if her wrists had been shackled to the carpet. And though she wasn’t out-and-out bawling, she clearly wasn’t coping.

“Hey,” Jennifer leaned in nearer. “It’s going to be ok. You can stay here. We have room.”

Zormna expression became pained. She turned toward Jennifer. “I just….”

“We know,” Jennifer’s dad said, “It wasn’t what you had planned.”

Zormna nodded.

“So,” her father rose. “You said you came here using, uh, alternative routes. Did you bring any documentation with you?”

Shaking her head, Zormna sighed. “No. My great aunt was supposed to provide it. She had it all ready, I was told.”

Both parents pulled back. They shared yet another conspiring look, though this time with a degree of panic.

“Of course,” Zormna murmured mournfully, “with her death, all her property would have been liquidated.”

Jennifer frowned, folding her arms across her chest. Was that what had happened? She couldn’t remember. The whole thing with the crazy lady’s death had been a circus. Then everyone happily forgot the old kook ever existed.

Her father lifted a finger. “Uh, actually, the house is untouched.”

Zormna lifted her eyes. “What?”

A little sheepish, Jennifer’s father shared yet another look with his wife. “It is a funny thing. You see, um, after the investigation closed and the funeral was over, all of us expected an estate sale. And, well…”

Jennifer chuckled. Now it came to her. It had definitely been a circus, which included a large crowd of rubberneckers to see the show. Most of the street had gotten blocked off.

“Everyone wanted to see what was in her house,” Jennifer’s mom said. She blushed, hunching her shoulders.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Of course we did. Everyone wanted to see what the crazy lady had inside that place.”

Zormna rolled her scathing green eyes back at Jennifer for repeatedly calling her aunt crazy.

“She had amazing crystal-ware,” Jennifer’s mother murmured covetously to herself.

“Lots of fancy Victorian furniture,” Jennifer chimed in, less embarrassed about wanting to explore that house.

“Antiques of unknown value.” Her mom sighed.

“And that huge carved panorama thing hanging over the stairs that I always wanted to see up close,” Jennifer said. “It’s, like, cherry wood or something. With horses and desert, or something.”

“And a player piano,” Jennifer’s mother concluded as if she had intended to buy it.

Zormna’s expression had glazed over. She hunched towards the carpet as though her invisible manacles were getting heavier.

“The thing is,” Jennifer’s mom continued, noticing the blonde’s reaction to their covet session, “The executor of the estate (some lawyer) said none of it was to be sold—including the house—for the next five years. It was all in her will, see. It is possible she was still waiting for family to join her. I had heard her mention she had family abroad that might be coming to live with her.”

“Did she really?” Jennifer turned to her mother. Her mother had, on rare occasions, spoken with the crazy lady. Polite-like. It had always freaked Jennifer out because that woman was so weird. She didn’t like her mother hanging around weird people.

Jennifer’s mother nodded. And so did her father.

But Zormna only frowned.

“Anyway, after the five years,” Mrs. McLenna continued, “he will be allowed to sell the property and liquidate her assets. Until then, it remains untouched. ”

“A haunted house. Oooooh!” Jennifer made an eerie noise, wiggling her fingers at Zormna.

This time Zormna rolled her eyes and turned her back on Jennifer. She turned toward Mr. McLenna who wasn’t getting wrapped up in all the hype about all the things tucked away in her great aunt’s house. “So, are you saying my documents might still be in that house?”

He shrugged. “Possibly. You might want to look into retrieving them.”

Zormna shook her head, rising. Everyone stood with her.

“I truly doubt that the documents are still there.” Zormna set a hand to her forehead. “Not if this Federal Bureau of Investigation had been at her home, as you said. Governments would not leave legal documents like that alone. Not if they were truly investigating a murder.”

And that killed the discussion. Zormna had a bluntness in her speech that disturbed Jennifer.

“Unless, of course, she hid the documents,” Zormna murmured to herself, opening up the conversation for speculation—if only for herself.

Both parents shared yet another look before Jennifer’s father finally said, “Well, then it is still worthwhile to check out. But just in case, I’d better make a few contacts to see if we can get some temporary documents made.”

“You can do that?” Jennifer exclaimed. She stared at what she had always thought was a normal average suburban couple. Boring. And by all accounts, they were. Both dressed business classic. Never wore leather. Or leopard print. And they avoided most pop culture, including internet fads and fashion trends. But now her parents seemed significantly cooler.

Her father merely shrugged.

“Well then,” Jennifer’s mom said, smoothing her shirt front and pants with a look about the room. “I guess we then ought to get to work.”

She waved with her arm to both of the girls.

“Jennifer, Zormna, follow me. We’ll go upstairs and get you into more suitable clothes. Jennifer, you can lend her some.”

Her mother promptly led the way.

Just like that.

If Jennifer had not known her parents all her life, she would have thought this move logical and compassionate. But these were her folks. And paranoia like theirs doesn’t die such a quick death.

“What exactly is wrong with my clothing?” Zormna asked Jennifer’s mother as she ascended the stairs after Mrs. McLenna.

Jennifer followed, finding all of this way too weird.

“Nothing, physically,” Mrs. McLenna answered, her voice echoing up above. She strode to the end of the hall, stopping at the small linen closet-sized door at the end. It had been a closet once, but they had turned it into a doorway to the unfinished attic ages ago. “Except it looks like you are wearing pajamas.”

“Pajamas?” Zormna gave her peach outfit a brief glance, frowning.

Mrs. McLenna nodded. Her eyes flickered from Zormna to her daughter. Jennifer stared back plaintively. After all, she had already realized that Zormna’s petite yet curvaceous frame was not going to fit her clothes the same.

“Find drawstring pants,” her mother said. “I think you have a pair of cargo pants that zip off into shorts. And any tee shirt will do.”

Hanging her shoulders, Jennifer continued up to the second floor. She veered around to her bedroom door with a nod, opening it.

Zormna followed her in. Or tried to.

Jennifer’s room was her private space, even if she had to share it with a ten-year-old brat. So, of course taking in the scattered pairs of pants, shirts, and panties on her floor, not to mention all of Mindy’s things, Jennifer flushed red. Quickly whipping around to block the doorway, Jennifer went even redder.

“Uh…” Jennifer hastily shoved Zormna back into the hallway. “It’s not clean yet. Wait here, and I’ll get you some clothes.”

She shut door shut in front of Zormna’s face before the girl could say anything. What would someone so naturally perfect think if she saw this disaster area?

But then Jennifer chuckled to herself, leaning on the closed door. Why was she assuming anything about a total stranger? The girl had nothing but a monochromatic outfit and a matching duffle bag to her name. This was so dumb.

Yet…a good first impression mattered.

Jennifer rushed about, picking up shirts, pants, underwear, bras, and socks. All of them, she crammed into an open drawer then shoved it closed. She tossed all of Mindy’s things onto her bed. Then she looked around with time to think. Cargo pants. Jennifer was sure they were dirty. She had worn them Thursday. So that was a no go. Clothes…clothes for that tiny blonde with a bigger chest than she had. How was that going to work?

Sneaking to the door again, Jennifer carefully opened it and peeked out. Zormna was still there—not staring at the door thankfully. But the girl was gazing up at the hall light, flipping on and off the switch. An amused-as-a-three-year-old-with-a-new-toy smirk crooked up half of the blonde’s mouth, but only just. Then Zormna turned towards the other doors, mostly the open ones, peering in. She found the bathroom first.

Clothes! Jennifer whipped back to finish her task. Capris or shorts would have to do. An ordinary tee shirt would be enough, but there was no way she was lending that girl a bra. Jennifer then thought about shoes. She hopped back to the door, peering at the ones on Zormna’s feet. White, with strange clasps. Oh. They weren’t shoes at all, but boots. Weird material. And definitely smaller than her feet. Zormna would probably fit Andrew’s shoes—maybe. They’ll have to ask him to loan a pair when he got home from scouts, if he wasn’t being too much of a brat. Then again, who would look at Zormna’s feet anyway? All eyes drew upward with her.

Jennifer almost closed the door but stopped when she saw Zormna peek into the boys’ room. It was clearly marked with a homemade Girls Keep Out!!!! sign in black and red magic marker. A huge Dead End street sign hung over it. Anyone with sense would have left it alone. Jennifer braced herself for the inevitable bellow from beyond the door. After all, Todd was home.

“You come in, and you’re dead! Got it, Mindy?”

Zormna sprang back. Her eyes wide, she blinked, then inched away, hurrying to the small attic door where Jennifer’s mother had gone.

That was worth the chuckle, Jennifer thought as she went back to her clothing search. Digging into the bureau, she unearthed a pair of capris. She found a tan one with a drawstring in the waist, perfect for that petite blonde. Then she scrounged through the drawer she had just filled, sniffing the tee shirts for one that was not dirty. She grabbed a dark blue baby tee that worked. It was still folded, anyway.

With these in hand, Jennifer jogged to the ‘attic’. There her mother