She held up her arms and flexed her muscles.
Dulcie laughed. "You've always been a champ."
Emma paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Who was Teresa, Mommy?"
"Teresa?" Dulcie stared at Emma, her body tense. "I don't know anyone named Teresa. Why?" She quickly got to her feet and began to gather the plates. The knives and forks rattled, the glasses clinked.
"She wrote her name on your Candy Land game." Emma followed Dulcie to the kitchen. "But somebody scribbled all over it with black crayon."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Dulcie scraped leftovers into the trash, her face hidden.
"I'll show you." Emma ran to the living room and came back with the Candy Land board. "See? Here's your name and Aunt Claire's name, and right there is Teresa's name."
Dulcie glanced at the board and shrugged. "Our mom used to buy stuff at church rummage sales. Some girl named Teresa probably owned the game before us, so we wrote our names and scribbled hers out."
It was a good explanation, but I didn't quite believe it. Something about that name upset Dulcie. She was tense, anxious.
"Remember that photo I told you about?" I asked her. "The one where the girl had been torn out? Well, her name started with
T
and I was wondering—"
"Will you please stop talking about it? How often do I have to tell you? I don't know Teresa, I don't know why her name is on that stupid game board, and I don't know who the girl in the picture was! She could have been named Tillie or Trudy or Toni."
Dulcie's sharp voice startled both Emma and me. I stared at my aunt, puzzled. Why was she so angry?
"Don't be mad, Mommy," Emma begged, close to tears.
"I'm not mad." Dulcie plunged her hands into the soapy water and began washing the dishes with swift, jerky movements. If she weren't careful, she'd break everything in the sink.
I grabbed a dish towel. "Want me to dry?"
Keeping her back turned, Dulcie shook her head. "I'd rather you read to Emma."
"But, Mommy," Emma began.
"Go with Ali," Dulcie said. "I need some time to myself."
Emma followed me into the living room and sat beside me, her small face glum.
I put my arm around her and drew her so close I could smell the sweet scent of her hair. "Would you like to hear another chapter about the Moffats?" I asked.
Emma nodded and snuggled against me. While I read, I thought about my aunt's reaction to Emma's questions. She remembered Teresa, I was sure she did. Why wouldn't she admit it?
9
The next morning, I slept late, probably because I'd tossed and turned most of the night, dreaming about Teresa. When I stumbled downstairs, eager for orange juice, I found Emma sitting at the kitchen table with Sissy. Turning her face so only I could see it, she smiled her smirky smile.
"Look who's here!" Emma cried, obviously delighted. "Sissy came to play with me!"
"Whoop-di-do," I muttered. "Where's Dulcie?"
"In her studio. She's got lots to do today, so we shouldn't bother her."
I took my seat at the table. Dulcie had already filled a bowl with my favorite cereal. As I added milk, I was aware of Sissy sitting beside me, close enough to touch. I wasn't in the mood to put up with her. Not after a bad night's sleep.
Ignoring me, Sissy busied herself pushing Cheerios around her bowl with her spoon, sinking them into the milk and watching them pop up again. As far as I could see, she hadn't eaten any of them.
I tapped her shoulder to get her attention. "It's bad manners to play with food." Even to myself, I sounded like a crabby old lady.
"So?" Sissy shrugged and continued to stir the cereal into a gloppy mess.
"So, if Dulcie was nice enough to fix cereal for you, you should eat it."
"Dulcie didn't give me this. Emma did. I told her I wasn't hungry, but she fixed it anyway."
I looked at Emma, and she nodded. "Mommy wasn't here when Sissy came, so I got to be the hostess."
"I hate cereal unless it's got lots of sugar on it." With a frown, Sissy pushed her bowl away. "Let's go to the lake, Emmy."
"I
Dulcie laughed. "You've always been a champ."
Emma paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Who was Teresa, Mommy?"
"Teresa?" Dulcie stared at Emma, her body tense. "I don't know anyone named Teresa. Why?" She quickly got to her feet and began to gather the plates. The knives and forks rattled, the glasses clinked.
"She wrote her name on your Candy Land game." Emma followed Dulcie to the kitchen. "But somebody scribbled all over it with black crayon."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Dulcie scraped leftovers into the trash, her face hidden.
"I'll show you." Emma ran to the living room and came back with the Candy Land board. "See? Here's your name and Aunt Claire's name, and right there is Teresa's name."
Dulcie glanced at the board and shrugged. "Our mom used to buy stuff at church rummage sales. Some girl named Teresa probably owned the game before us, so we wrote our names and scribbled hers out."
It was a good explanation, but I didn't quite believe it. Something about that name upset Dulcie. She was tense, anxious.
"Remember that photo I told you about?" I asked her. "The one where the girl had been torn out? Well, her name started with
T
and I was wondering—"
"Will you please stop talking about it? How often do I have to tell you? I don't know Teresa, I don't know why her name is on that stupid game board, and I don't know who the girl in the picture was! She could have been named Tillie or Trudy or Toni."
Dulcie's sharp voice startled both Emma and me. I stared at my aunt, puzzled. Why was she so angry?
"Don't be mad, Mommy," Emma begged, close to tears.
"I'm not mad." Dulcie plunged her hands into the soapy water and began washing the dishes with swift, jerky movements. If she weren't careful, she'd break everything in the sink.
I grabbed a dish towel. "Want me to dry?"
Keeping her back turned, Dulcie shook her head. "I'd rather you read to Emma."
"But, Mommy," Emma began.
"Go with Ali," Dulcie said. "I need some time to myself."
Emma followed me into the living room and sat beside me, her small face glum.
I put my arm around her and drew her so close I could smell the sweet scent of her hair. "Would you like to hear another chapter about the Moffats?" I asked.
Emma nodded and snuggled against me. While I read, I thought about my aunt's reaction to Emma's questions. She remembered Teresa, I was sure she did. Why wouldn't she admit it?
9
The next morning, I slept late, probably because I'd tossed and turned most of the night, dreaming about Teresa. When I stumbled downstairs, eager for orange juice, I found Emma sitting at the kitchen table with Sissy. Turning her face so only I could see it, she smiled her smirky smile.
"Look who's here!" Emma cried, obviously delighted. "Sissy came to play with me!"
"Whoop-di-do," I muttered. "Where's Dulcie?"
"In her studio. She's got lots to do today, so we shouldn't bother her."
I took my seat at the table. Dulcie had already filled a bowl with my favorite cereal. As I added milk, I was aware of Sissy sitting beside me, close enough to touch. I wasn't in the mood to put up with her. Not after a bad night's sleep.
Ignoring me, Sissy busied herself pushing Cheerios around her bowl with her spoon, sinking them into the milk and watching them pop up again. As far as I could see, she hadn't eaten any of them.
I tapped her shoulder to get her attention. "It's bad manners to play with food." Even to myself, I sounded like a crabby old lady.
"So?" Sissy shrugged and continued to stir the cereal into a gloppy mess.
"So, if Dulcie was nice enough to fix cereal for you, you should eat it."
"Dulcie didn't give me this. Emma did. I told her I wasn't hungry, but she fixed it anyway."
I looked at Emma, and she nodded. "Mommy wasn't here when Sissy came, so I got to be the hostess."
"I hate cereal unless it's got lots of sugar on it." With a frown, Sissy pushed her bowl away. "Let's go to the lake, Emmy."
"I
Similar Books
