didn’t count all that had happened before yesterday, and didn’t count that it had taken her more than six hours, on her hands and knees on the ground with a pair of household.listoffigures { font-size: itDaisy Phillips scissors clipping the grass almost blade by blade before getting the lawn mower to do its job.
“Really?” Dennis, unbelieving. “No trouble at all?” Naturally thinking of all that had happened before yesterday. Wondering how she could honestly claim it was no trouble at all. “Now, Mum—”
“Perhaps you can do it while I’m gone,” Daisy, breaking in. “Just once or twice—if the rain lets up.”
Dennis, running his hand over his eyes, rubbing them. “You’re not still thinking of going to New York, are you?”
“Indeed I am.”
Dennis, sighing, “When?”
Daisy, not answering at once. She had still not heard back from Ann, but was determined to go with or without her cousin’s house to stay in. “Soon.” The water starting to boil, the kettle to whistle. Daisy, turning off the heat, carefully pouring the water into her teacup. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a nice hot cup of tea? It’ll do you good.”
Dennis, shaking his head. “How soon? Do you have dates worked out? What does your cousin say?”
“My passport is in good order, and I’ve done all my shopping and packing. I imagine I’ll be gone a month.” Putting the kettle back on the hob, sitting down to her tea.
“A month? Really? That long?”
“I imagine so. Yes. Perhaps even longer.” She had no idea where Michael Baker lived; she had only his return address from letters sixty years old. She had no idea whether he was dead or alive or how to find him. Or how to find any children he may have had. “I’m buying an open-ended ticket.” Stirring a teaspoon of sugar into her tea. The spoon making its familiar, cozy, homey sound as it hit the inside of the teacup on every rotation.
Dennis, “It seems like a crazy time for you to be planning an open-ended trip, but I don’t suppose I can change your mind.”
“No, I don’t think you could, Dennis. My mind is quite made up.” Wishing she had received a positive word from Ann.
“Well, now then.” Dennis, clearing his throat, realigning the papers in front of him on the table. “On to the reason I’m here. These are the papers the agent needs to show your house. You just have to sign in a few places.” His finger targeting the first blank line.
Daisy, stirring her tea. The silver spoon sound ringing out merrily— tink, tink —in a nice little rhythm.
“Mum, I hate to be an insensitive boor, but I really haven’t got much time. Just sign here and one other place so I can get going. Please.”
Daisy, unable to take the pen from him. Staring at the forms, unable to move.
The phone, ringing.
So startling, Daisy jumped. Racing to pick up the phone.
Hearing, “Hello? Are you Daisy?” An unfamiliar voice. An American voice! Daisy’s heart, leaping with joy.
“Yes, this is Daisy.”
“Daisy, this is your cousin Ann. How are you?”
“Oh, Ann! Fine, I’m fine. How are you?” Daisy, giddy with glee. No time to wor tell her she coulder. Ann, ry that the news might not be good, that right there in front of Dennis she might hear that she couldn’t stay with her. Feeling only one thing: relief. Relief that Ann wasn’t dead and that she had called.
Looking at Dennis sitting stiff-backed at her table, showing equal parts exasperation and curiosity.
Ann, “I thought calling might be better than writing. I wanted to respond to you as soon as I could, not to keep you waiting.”
“Yes. Gorgeous. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry to say that, well, the situation is, well, I’ll just get right to it. I’m afraid that it would be very difficult for you to stay with me, but my daughter Elisabeth would love to have you. She has an extra room. She lives only five miles from me.”
Daisy, thrilled. Relieved. “Gorgeous.”
“Just let us know the
“Really?” Dennis, unbelieving. “No trouble at all?” Naturally thinking of all that had happened before yesterday. Wondering how she could honestly claim it was no trouble at all. “Now, Mum—”
“Perhaps you can do it while I’m gone,” Daisy, breaking in. “Just once or twice—if the rain lets up.”
Dennis, running his hand over his eyes, rubbing them. “You’re not still thinking of going to New York, are you?”
“Indeed I am.”
Dennis, sighing, “When?”
Daisy, not answering at once. She had still not heard back from Ann, but was determined to go with or without her cousin’s house to stay in. “Soon.” The water starting to boil, the kettle to whistle. Daisy, turning off the heat, carefully pouring the water into her teacup. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a nice hot cup of tea? It’ll do you good.”
Dennis, shaking his head. “How soon? Do you have dates worked out? What does your cousin say?”
“My passport is in good order, and I’ve done all my shopping and packing. I imagine I’ll be gone a month.” Putting the kettle back on the hob, sitting down to her tea.
“A month? Really? That long?”
“I imagine so. Yes. Perhaps even longer.” She had no idea where Michael Baker lived; she had only his return address from letters sixty years old. She had no idea whether he was dead or alive or how to find him. Or how to find any children he may have had. “I’m buying an open-ended ticket.” Stirring a teaspoon of sugar into her tea. The spoon making its familiar, cozy, homey sound as it hit the inside of the teacup on every rotation.
Dennis, “It seems like a crazy time for you to be planning an open-ended trip, but I don’t suppose I can change your mind.”
“No, I don’t think you could, Dennis. My mind is quite made up.” Wishing she had received a positive word from Ann.
“Well, now then.” Dennis, clearing his throat, realigning the papers in front of him on the table. “On to the reason I’m here. These are the papers the agent needs to show your house. You just have to sign in a few places.” His finger targeting the first blank line.
Daisy, stirring her tea. The silver spoon sound ringing out merrily— tink, tink —in a nice little rhythm.
“Mum, I hate to be an insensitive boor, but I really haven’t got much time. Just sign here and one other place so I can get going. Please.”
Daisy, unable to take the pen from him. Staring at the forms, unable to move.
The phone, ringing.
So startling, Daisy jumped. Racing to pick up the phone.
Hearing, “Hello? Are you Daisy?” An unfamiliar voice. An American voice! Daisy’s heart, leaping with joy.
“Yes, this is Daisy.”
“Daisy, this is your cousin Ann. How are you?”
“Oh, Ann! Fine, I’m fine. How are you?” Daisy, giddy with glee. No time to wor tell her she coulder. Ann, ry that the news might not be good, that right there in front of Dennis she might hear that she couldn’t stay with her. Feeling only one thing: relief. Relief that Ann wasn’t dead and that she had called.
Looking at Dennis sitting stiff-backed at her table, showing equal parts exasperation and curiosity.
Ann, “I thought calling might be better than writing. I wanted to respond to you as soon as I could, not to keep you waiting.”
“Yes. Gorgeous. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry to say that, well, the situation is, well, I’ll just get right to it. I’m afraid that it would be very difficult for you to stay with me, but my daughter Elisabeth would love to have you. She has an extra room. She lives only five miles from me.”
Daisy, thrilled. Relieved. “Gorgeous.”
“Just let us know the
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