anger and humiliation.
“No, baby,” Galya said, trying to hug Sparrow to her—to comfort her, or perhaps, to avoid having to meet her eyes. “We hope it won’t be too much longer before she can come home. But you know, it’s a lot warmer and drier in Lodi, and it’s better for Marina there.”
She went on for quite a while about how much better Marina’s wheeze was and how much she was missing Sparrow and what her new school was like—and Summer listened wondering how she could be so convincing if she were making it up. Oriole’s face might have been an indication—but she’d gotten up to make some more tea and was standing over the stove with her back turned. Even when Sparrow began about finding the troll doll, Galya’s answers were smooth and quick. “It must have been there all along, sweetie,” she said, “and you just didn’t happen to notice it. I’m sure that must be it.” She turned to Summer as if she’d been reading her suspicious thoughts. “I’m sure that was it. Don’t you think so, Summer?”
“Oh sure,” Summer said, but she was less sure now than a moment before, mostly because Galya was giving her a level-eyed super-sincere expression that suddenly reminded her of the time Galya had told them about how she’d gotten Jerry to marry her.
The problem had been that neither Jerry or Galya had believed in marriage when they first met, but after they’d had three kids and Galya had inherited the land and started the organic farming business, she’d changed her mind. She knew Jerry well enough to know that if she came right out and said so, it would only make him more against the whole idea. So for months she had come down to see Oriole and report on her latest schemes and strategies to get Jerry to change his mind. Sometimes she’d act it out, taking both parts in the arguments and conversations in which she would come out strongly against marriage so that Jerry would be trapped into taking the opposite point of view. It was a technique that worked very well on Jerry, Galya said, because, like most men, he specialized in opposite points of view.
“It’s just that I can’t see myself making promises about how I’m going to feel ten years from now,” she would say—acting out how she’d said it to Jerry—and there would be that very same super-sincere expression on her broad dark-eyed face.
Obviously Galya was conning somebody again, but this time it was the McIntyres, or at least Summer and Sparrow. All of which made it look even more probable that something weird was going on at the Fishers’. And for some reason, whatever it was was related to Marina’s absence. That brought the whole thing closer to home, because whatever affected Marina was going to involve Sparrow to some extent. And that made it Summer’s business, whether she wanted it to be or not.
5
S HE HEARD THE PEACOCKS screaming as soon as she stepped off the bus. Partway up the hill she came across a bunch of them in the middle of the drive—three males and several of the much less colorful but no less proud and arrogant females. One of the males was parading in a circle with his tail fanned in an enormous halo of quivering plumes. The others, definitely unimpressed, went on about their business, but Summer couldn’t help stopping for a moment to watch.
They’d fascinated her since her first day at Crown Ridge when she’d come across a flock of them stalking haughtily across the lawn in front of the long, low house—creatures from some pagan paradise, their incredibly gorgeous plumage in strange contrast to the weird reptilian movement of their gaudy heads and dragon-clawed legs. Even now, after finding out how dumb and neurotic and basically useless they were, she still found them intriguing and somehow, even more than the Arabians, a very important part of the whole scene at Crown Ridge Ranch.
She stood motionless, watching the preening strut of the big male until he lowered his gigantic fan and
“No, baby,” Galya said, trying to hug Sparrow to her—to comfort her, or perhaps, to avoid having to meet her eyes. “We hope it won’t be too much longer before she can come home. But you know, it’s a lot warmer and drier in Lodi, and it’s better for Marina there.”
She went on for quite a while about how much better Marina’s wheeze was and how much she was missing Sparrow and what her new school was like—and Summer listened wondering how she could be so convincing if she were making it up. Oriole’s face might have been an indication—but she’d gotten up to make some more tea and was standing over the stove with her back turned. Even when Sparrow began about finding the troll doll, Galya’s answers were smooth and quick. “It must have been there all along, sweetie,” she said, “and you just didn’t happen to notice it. I’m sure that must be it.” She turned to Summer as if she’d been reading her suspicious thoughts. “I’m sure that was it. Don’t you think so, Summer?”
“Oh sure,” Summer said, but she was less sure now than a moment before, mostly because Galya was giving her a level-eyed super-sincere expression that suddenly reminded her of the time Galya had told them about how she’d gotten Jerry to marry her.
The problem had been that neither Jerry or Galya had believed in marriage when they first met, but after they’d had three kids and Galya had inherited the land and started the organic farming business, she’d changed her mind. She knew Jerry well enough to know that if she came right out and said so, it would only make him more against the whole idea. So for months she had come down to see Oriole and report on her latest schemes and strategies to get Jerry to change his mind. Sometimes she’d act it out, taking both parts in the arguments and conversations in which she would come out strongly against marriage so that Jerry would be trapped into taking the opposite point of view. It was a technique that worked very well on Jerry, Galya said, because, like most men, he specialized in opposite points of view.
“It’s just that I can’t see myself making promises about how I’m going to feel ten years from now,” she would say—acting out how she’d said it to Jerry—and there would be that very same super-sincere expression on her broad dark-eyed face.
Obviously Galya was conning somebody again, but this time it was the McIntyres, or at least Summer and Sparrow. All of which made it look even more probable that something weird was going on at the Fishers’. And for some reason, whatever it was was related to Marina’s absence. That brought the whole thing closer to home, because whatever affected Marina was going to involve Sparrow to some extent. And that made it Summer’s business, whether she wanted it to be or not.
5
S HE HEARD THE PEACOCKS screaming as soon as she stepped off the bus. Partway up the hill she came across a bunch of them in the middle of the drive—three males and several of the much less colorful but no less proud and arrogant females. One of the males was parading in a circle with his tail fanned in an enormous halo of quivering plumes. The others, definitely unimpressed, went on about their business, but Summer couldn’t help stopping for a moment to watch.
They’d fascinated her since her first day at Crown Ridge when she’d come across a flock of them stalking haughtily across the lawn in front of the long, low house—creatures from some pagan paradise, their incredibly gorgeous plumage in strange contrast to the weird reptilian movement of their gaudy heads and dragon-clawed legs. Even now, after finding out how dumb and neurotic and basically useless they were, she still found them intriguing and somehow, even more than the Arabians, a very important part of the whole scene at Crown Ridge Ranch.
She stood motionless, watching the preening strut of the big male until he lowered his gigantic fan and
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