Suture Self : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

queasies sometimes, but basically, she feels strong.”

SUTURE SELF

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Like a fifty-foot Douglas fir, Judith thought, picturing her daughter-in-law.

“Mac wants to go back outside to play in the snow,”

Mike went on, “but it’s blowing too hard. Kristin took

him out there a while ago, and the wind knocked him

over. He made a perfect snow angel when he fell,

though. Thanks again for the snowsuit you gave him

for Christmas.” He paused, and Judith could hear Mac

jabbering in the background. “Tomorrow, little fella,

okay? Say,” Mike said into the phone again, “I wasn’t

going to mention this until I saw you, but now that I

think about it, you’re probably pretty bored, huh?”

“Well . . .” Judith glanced at Renie, who was gobbling cheese and pear slices. “Not exactly, but I may be

later.”

“We’re going to put Mac in preschool this fall,”

Mike said, sounding like a typical proud papa.

“There’s a really good one about twenty miles down

the highway. Kristin’s been filling out the forms, and

one thing they’d like to have is a family tree. Then,

when the kid enters on the first day, there’s his picture

on this cutout of a tree, with information about all of

his ancestors. Cute, huh?”

“Cute,” Judith agreed, though her voice had gone

flat. “So you want me to put together a family tree.”

She caught Renie’s gaze; Renie choked on her pear.

“If you could,” Mike said. “Nothing fancy; I gather

the teachers do the artwork and arranging. No real

rush, either, though they’d like to have all this stuff by

the end of the month.”

“The end of the month?” Judith frowned into the

phone. “Why so soon? Mac won’t start school until

fall.”

“The teachers have to make the trees for about sixty

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Mary Daheim

kids,” Mike said reasonably. “Of course, they have to

decide if they’ll accept Mac in the first place. But the

earlier we get all this stuff done, the more likely he’ll

get into Little Einsteins.”

“That’s the name of the school?” Judith gulped.

“Right. They don’t take just any kid,” Mike said,

pride still evident in his voice. “Of course, it’s not

cheap, but we can swing it. Education’s so important

these days. I mean, it’s not like when I was a kid, and

you sent me to Ethel Bump’s place. All we did was

string beads and finger-paint her furniture and roll

around on our rugs.”

“That was day care, Mike,” Judith said over Renie’s