could. You suppressed your annoyance admirably.
“Now, Jane. Father Burgess tells me that you’ve been giving Sister Mary Joseph a terrible time in Religion class. I don’t need to ask if this is true; I can see by the wicked, gleeful look in your eye that the situation is even worse than I thought. If you’re not careful, Jane, you’ll be expelled from St. Maggie’s. How would you like that?”
“I’d love it!” Jane cried. “I want to go to public school.”
You laughed. “You’d last about a minute with those hoodlums.”
“Ha. You don’t know Jane,” Ginger drawled.
“I don’t want to hear any more bad reports about you this year, Jane.”
Jane glared at you, and you glared back. Two powerful wills facing off. After an endless moment, Jane looked away. You won that round. But I’d never count Jane out.
“Now, on to Norris.”
Ulp.
“Your debut. Have you chosen your escorts for the Cotillon yet?”
“Well, there’s Daddy-o and St. John,” I said. “You’ve already arranged that, I think.”
“Yes, and your third escort will be Brooks Overbeck. What I’m asking, Norris, is if you have sent him an invitation yet. Time is a-wasting.”
“Not yet, Almighty.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? You’re not thinking of asking another young man, are you?”
Your beady blue eyes bore into me. You were onto me, and you wanted to make sure that I knew that you knew.
A lot goes on under the surface at these teas, doesn’t it?
“I believe Brooks has already made some kind of overture to you, to let you know he’ll gladly accept your invitation. Correct?”
“Well, he asked me to a dance—”
“Sounds like an overture to me. Get that invitation in the mail.”
I couldn’t speak. I was angry and afraid. I thought, Who does she think she is, telling me what to do with my life this way? It was just a stupid date to a stupid dance. I had nothing against Brooks Overbeck, but I didn’t like being ordered to go out with him. Next, I thought, you’d tell me we were getting married in June.
“We’ve been to Downs and ordered the invitations,” Ginger said, trying to stave off a fight.
“Mamie Overbeck has already told everyone that Brooks is escorting Norris to the Cotillon,” you said firmly. “I believe she’s even told the society reporter at the Baltimore Sun . That means it will happen. If it doesn’t happen, Mamie will be annoyed, and I’ll be annoyed. Brooks will be hurt, and your debut to society will be ruined, forever besmirched by your selfishness or laziness or whatever it is that is keeping you from doing your duty to this family, Louisa Norris Sullivan.”
I’d sat through your lectures and orders before, Almighty, and I’d left your teas in tears. But never like this. Maybe it’s because I was older now, or maybe it had something to do with the change that happened in Speed Reading class, but this time you went too far.
I knew that anything I said would steel your resolve and make you more stubborn, which would only make things worse for me.
“Do you hear me, Norris?”
“I hear you,” I croaked.
“Good.” You smiled, but you weren’t happy. “Now that most of our business is over, let’s enjoy some of these lovely cakes Bernice made for us. More tea, Virginia?”
The Schubert CD ended. “Norris, we need some more music,” you ordered. “Put on La Sonnambula .”
I found the CD—Maria Callas singing La Sonnambula —and put it on. Opera music blasted into the huge old library. I turned it down.
I choked down a cucumber sandwich and swallowed my tea while I stared at that giant portrait of you as a young girl thathangs high on the library wall. You posed in your riding outfit with your beloved horse, King, two spaniels at your feet. You were maybe sixteen when that portrait was painted; younger than I am. I wondered: Did people call you Almighty Lou yet, at that age? Or were you still just Louisa?
After tea we went outside to say hello to
“Now, Jane. Father Burgess tells me that you’ve been giving Sister Mary Joseph a terrible time in Religion class. I don’t need to ask if this is true; I can see by the wicked, gleeful look in your eye that the situation is even worse than I thought. If you’re not careful, Jane, you’ll be expelled from St. Maggie’s. How would you like that?”
“I’d love it!” Jane cried. “I want to go to public school.”
You laughed. “You’d last about a minute with those hoodlums.”
“Ha. You don’t know Jane,” Ginger drawled.
“I don’t want to hear any more bad reports about you this year, Jane.”
Jane glared at you, and you glared back. Two powerful wills facing off. After an endless moment, Jane looked away. You won that round. But I’d never count Jane out.
“Now, on to Norris.”
Ulp.
“Your debut. Have you chosen your escorts for the Cotillon yet?”
“Well, there’s Daddy-o and St. John,” I said. “You’ve already arranged that, I think.”
“Yes, and your third escort will be Brooks Overbeck. What I’m asking, Norris, is if you have sent him an invitation yet. Time is a-wasting.”
“Not yet, Almighty.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? You’re not thinking of asking another young man, are you?”
Your beady blue eyes bore into me. You were onto me, and you wanted to make sure that I knew that you knew.
A lot goes on under the surface at these teas, doesn’t it?
“I believe Brooks has already made some kind of overture to you, to let you know he’ll gladly accept your invitation. Correct?”
“Well, he asked me to a dance—”
“Sounds like an overture to me. Get that invitation in the mail.”
I couldn’t speak. I was angry and afraid. I thought, Who does she think she is, telling me what to do with my life this way? It was just a stupid date to a stupid dance. I had nothing against Brooks Overbeck, but I didn’t like being ordered to go out with him. Next, I thought, you’d tell me we were getting married in June.
“We’ve been to Downs and ordered the invitations,” Ginger said, trying to stave off a fight.
“Mamie Overbeck has already told everyone that Brooks is escorting Norris to the Cotillon,” you said firmly. “I believe she’s even told the society reporter at the Baltimore Sun . That means it will happen. If it doesn’t happen, Mamie will be annoyed, and I’ll be annoyed. Brooks will be hurt, and your debut to society will be ruined, forever besmirched by your selfishness or laziness or whatever it is that is keeping you from doing your duty to this family, Louisa Norris Sullivan.”
I’d sat through your lectures and orders before, Almighty, and I’d left your teas in tears. But never like this. Maybe it’s because I was older now, or maybe it had something to do with the change that happened in Speed Reading class, but this time you went too far.
I knew that anything I said would steel your resolve and make you more stubborn, which would only make things worse for me.
“Do you hear me, Norris?”
“I hear you,” I croaked.
“Good.” You smiled, but you weren’t happy. “Now that most of our business is over, let’s enjoy some of these lovely cakes Bernice made for us. More tea, Virginia?”
The Schubert CD ended. “Norris, we need some more music,” you ordered. “Put on La Sonnambula .”
I found the CD—Maria Callas singing La Sonnambula —and put it on. Opera music blasted into the huge old library. I turned it down.
I choked down a cucumber sandwich and swallowed my tea while I stared at that giant portrait of you as a young girl thathangs high on the library wall. You posed in your riding outfit with your beloved horse, King, two spaniels at your feet. You were maybe sixteen when that portrait was painted; younger than I am. I wondered: Did people call you Almighty Lou yet, at that age? Or were you still just Louisa?
After tea we went outside to say hello to
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