him interested. I mean, honestly, if they're running around half-naked and practically flinging themselves in his lap and the guy doesn't show a spark of interest, what do you think that means?'
'He has excessively good taste?' I suggested. 'Or--' Mother tapped me again with her foot. Samantha gave me a withering look.
'Oh, sure,' she said. 'He flat-out told them not to bother 'cause he wasn't interested. Besides, he hangs out with those two old aunties who run the antique store and the decorating shop.'
'Now, now, Samantha. That's enough. Little pitchers have big ears,' Mother chided, indicating eight-year- old Eric. Eric was too busy stuffing his pockets with tidbits to feed his pet duck to pay any attention to our boring grown-up conversation. 'I think it's very sweet of them to make Michael feel more at home.'
'And so convenient that they've convinced Michael and his mother to do curtains and slipcovers and such,' Mrs. Brewster said. 'They've had an awful time finding local help who meet their standards.'
'Yes,' Mother said. 'I'm not sure I'd have dared to go ahead with redecorating the living room without Michael's help. Not the deviled eggs, Eric.'
'But Duck likes deviled eggs!' Eric protested.
'You may take a deviled egg to Duck, then,' Mother conceded. 'But don't put it in your pocket.'
Eric took this as permission to leave the table and trotted out to the backyard with the deviled egg.
'Then you're going ahead with redecorating, too?' Mrs. Brewster said.
'Yes, the living room, and possibly the dining room,' Mother said. 'Michael will be out tomorrow to take measurements.'
'The dining room, too?' Jake said, plaintively. No one seemed to hear him.
'We're having the living room and the library done,' Mrs. Brewster said. Mr. Brewster sighed gently. 'I haven't decided about the dining room yet, although I suppose I should very soon. Perhaps I should have Michael take measurements tomorrow, too.'
'If he has time,' Mother said. 'He will be doing quite a lot of measuring here.'
'I'll call to make sure he has time,' Mrs. Brewster said. 'And no snide remarks when he comes young lady,' she said, turning to Samantha.
'Of course; not a word,' Samantha said. 'What kind of an idiot do you think I am? I mean, you know how vindictive and temperamental they can be; I'm not about to do anything to make him mess up my gown.'
Mother kicked me before I could open my mouth. My shins would be black and blue by morning.
What a narrow-minded, prejudiced--no, don't say the word, I told myself. The whole conversation left a bad taste in my mouth. I felt guilty about not having stepped in to defend Michael. On the other hand, if Mother hadn't shushed me, I'd probably have lost my temper and said something that I'd need to apologize for. I had a bad feeling that Samantha and I would end up having a knock-down-drag-out argument about narrow-mindedness before the end of the summer; I'd just try to avoid doing it in front of Mother. Or Rob. I had no idea what he saw in Samantha, but he was madly in love with her, so I'd have to learn to live with her.
In the meantime I vowed to be extremely friendly and hospitable to Michael. To make up for the various indignities and embarrassments he had probably already suffered at the hands of my small-minded relatives and neighbors.
Saturday, May 28
Of course, being friendly and hospitable to Michael was going to get a lot easier once I mastered the tendency to drool every time I saw him. I stumbled downstairs at ten Saturday morning to find him sitting in our kitchen. Mother was serving him coffee and pastries and explaining her redecorating plans.
I found myself wishing I'd combed my hair better before shoving it back into a clip. Or put on something other than my oldest jeans. Don't be silly, I told myself crossly, and responded to Michael's heart-stopping smile with as friendly a nod as I could manage before noon. I joined them and listened to Mother chatter about chintz for a while as I sipped my coffee and waited for it to take effect.
'Meg!' Mother said sharply. I started, spilling some of my coffee. Apparently I'd nodded off while sitting upright.
'Sorry, not quite awake yet,' I mumbled, mopping at myself with a napkin. Good thing I wasn't trying to impress anyone.
'I know how you feel,' Michael said. 'During the year I won't let them schedule any of my classes before eleven. I'm still not used to the way people down here get up at the crack of dawn.'
'Ten o'clock is hardly the crack of dawn,' Mother said, favoring me with a stern look. 'Wait till you've been down here for a few weeks, with all the fresh air and proper food, young lady. You'll be getting up with the larks.'
'Don't try to reform me, Mother,' I warned. 'Of course not, dear,' Mother lied, and led Michael into the living room to measure things. He looked as if he would rather stay in the kitchen to ingest more coffee. I could sympathize.
I had another cup of coffee and contemplated the mess Mother had made in the kitchen while serving Michael, the mess she always made in any kitchen. I had learned to cook and clean early, in self-defense. I finished my coffee and swabbed down the kitchen before taking up the phone and my list of things to do. Fourteen phone calls later I had lost my temper twice and succeeded in crossing exactly one thing off my list. I could hear Mother gently but firmly ordering Michael around in the living room. Well, better him than me. My turn would come. I went outdoors for some fresh air and found Dad busily trimming the hedge.
He looked relaxed and happy. Of course he nearly always did. After the divorce, Dad had moved in with my sister, Pam, and her husband, Mal. Or more accurately, into the apartment over their garage. It was all of a mile from the family house, and apart from going home to sleep in a different bed, he made remarkably few changes to his life after the divorce. He still divided his time between gardening at Pam's and at Mother's; doing things with the grandchildren; reading great stacks of books; making anachronistic house calls on the friends, neighbors, and relatives who hadn't yet been persuaded that he'd retired from his medical practice; and, most important, pursuing with wild enthusiasm and single-minded devotion whatever odd hobbies happened to seize his attention.
As soon as Mother decided on a garden wedding, Dad started grooming our yard for the festivities. Once Samantha decided to have an outdoor reception, he began relandscaping the Brewster's grounds. The Brewsters seemed thrilled to have him doing it, though that could change very quickly if all the extra work made their gardener carry out his threat to resign. And Dad was even pitching in occasionally to help Eileen's father prepare for her event.
All of which seemed very odd. Dad was working overtime to make the weddings a success, and yet, he had never liked Samantha. He was constantly complaining that Eileen took advantage of me. And as for Mother's remarriage to Jake--was he really that cheerful about it?
Speak of the devil, I thought, there goes Jake. Predictably, creeping along at five miles below the posted speed limit in his nondescript blue sedan. I waved at him.
He screeched to a halt, rolled down the window, and stuck his head out, looking very distraught.
'Yes, what is it?' he asked, his voice trembling.
'Nothing, Mr. Wendell. I was just waving. Sorry if I startled you.'
'Off to fetch your sister-in-law?' Dad asked. 'She has a fine morning for flying, doesn't she? From Fort Lauderdale, right?'
'You-yes,' Jake said. 'How did you know?'
'Mother mentioned it,' I said.
'Besides, it's hard to keep secrets in a small town like this,' Dad boomed jovially. Mr. Wendell looked alarmed, and more like a startled gray-brown mouse than usual. He rolled his window up, tried to drive away with the emergency brake still on, stopped to release it, and finally rolled slowly off.
Well, that was not a success, I thought. In fact, it was about as much of a bust as most of my attempts to get to know Jake better. Ah, well; I'd have all summer to get acquainted with my future stepfather.
'So, what are you up to this morning?' Dad said, rubbing his back while surveying the parts of the hedge he'd finished clipping.
'Phone calls and errands. Want me to help with that?'
