who stared at the demonic children and oily clowns with a look of horror.
“These were your favorites, remember, darling?” Prissy admired the artwork.
Claire swallowed hard.
“Maybe the baby will like them, too.”
“These things gave me nightmares, Mother. I hate them.”
Prissy’s mouth became a little O, and she brought her hand to her breast. “You never told me that, Carlene - Claire. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Claire’s jaw flexed. “I did.”
Prissy gave Jason an imploring look.
He put his arm around Claire’s shoulders.
“You may re-decorate however you want. I just thought you’d like them.” She clasped her hands and wrung them, and Jason felt a stab of pity for Prissy. She was trying so hard, and Claire was giving her so little. He pushed away his irritation.
“We’ll buy you better paintings tomorrow when we go out,” said Prissy. “There’s the best little art shop downtown. They’ll have something you like more.”
Claire nodded.
“Well then,” Prissy said, “why don’t we go back to the house and have dinner? I’ve made your favorite - manicotti with extra ricotta. That is still your favorite, isn’t it, darling?”
Claire blinked and smiled weakly. “Yes. I still love manicotti. But-”
“I’m afraid we’ve already eaten, Prissy.” Jason smiled. “It’s all my fault. I just had to try the burgers and ice cream sodas at the Daffodil Grill.” Despite Claire’s claim that her mother was rigid about dinnertime, the woman’s smile never faltered.
“Of course, we can keep it warm.” She turned to Claire. “I didn’t know you’d ever been to the Snapdragon Hotel, let alone their restaurant.”
Claire nodded. “It was a long time ago. With a friend.”
“Did you?” Prissy blew out a breath and looked around. “At any rate, I should leave you two alone now. I need to feed your father, and I’m sure you kids want some time to yourselves to settle in. Just pull your car up next to mine in the driveway.” She looked from Claire to Jason. “If you need anything - anything at all - don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll see you for dinner at seven.”
Claire cleared her throat. “How is Dad? I’d like to see him.”
Prissy frowned. “No better, I’m afraid. He’s had quite a bit of excitement today. Let’s wait until morning for visiting, shall we?”
Claire nodded. As soon as Mother left, she started opening windows. “I hate her perfume. It gives me a headache ... and it makes the dizziness worse.”
“You should tell her.”
“I will.”
Marble Madonna
“This all looks so delicious!” Jason deposited a big spoonful of chicken Alfredo next to his cheese manicotti. Caesar salads and garlic bread accompanied each plate. At the center of the polished cherry wood dining table, four tall white candles burned in a gaudy silver candelabrum. Their dishes rested on fancy silvery placemats and Claire couldn’t help noticing Mother had broken out her best china - the same china neither she nor Tim had ever been allowed to use. Even at Thanksgiving dinner, the kids had been relegated to a card table set with plastic dishes.
“Would you like to say grace, Jason?” Mother asked.
Jason fidgeted with his linen napkin. “Um, won’t you do it tonight, Prissy?”
“Of course.” Mother closed her eyes, bowed her head, and clasped her hands in front of her. For a very long moment, she was as still as a marble Madonna. Jason and Claire exchanged glances.
Mother sighed. “Our Father in Heaven,” she began. “Bless us this day. We give You our thanks for the meal we, Your unworthy servants, are about to enjoy.” There was silence and just as Claire unclasped her hands, Mother continued. “Lord, thank You for the opportunity You’ve given me to spend time with my daughter, Carlene - who calls herself Claire now, just so You know - and her husband, Jason Holcomb.”
“It’s Holbrook, Mother.”
Mother took no notice as she plowed
“These were your favorites, remember, darling?” Prissy admired the artwork.
Claire swallowed hard.
“Maybe the baby will like them, too.”
“These things gave me nightmares, Mother. I hate them.”
Prissy’s mouth became a little O, and she brought her hand to her breast. “You never told me that, Carlene - Claire. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Claire’s jaw flexed. “I did.”
Prissy gave Jason an imploring look.
He put his arm around Claire’s shoulders.
“You may re-decorate however you want. I just thought you’d like them.” She clasped her hands and wrung them, and Jason felt a stab of pity for Prissy. She was trying so hard, and Claire was giving her so little. He pushed away his irritation.
“We’ll buy you better paintings tomorrow when we go out,” said Prissy. “There’s the best little art shop downtown. They’ll have something you like more.”
Claire nodded.
“Well then,” Prissy said, “why don’t we go back to the house and have dinner? I’ve made your favorite - manicotti with extra ricotta. That is still your favorite, isn’t it, darling?”
Claire blinked and smiled weakly. “Yes. I still love manicotti. But-”
“I’m afraid we’ve already eaten, Prissy.” Jason smiled. “It’s all my fault. I just had to try the burgers and ice cream sodas at the Daffodil Grill.” Despite Claire’s claim that her mother was rigid about dinnertime, the woman’s smile never faltered.
“Of course, we can keep it warm.” She turned to Claire. “I didn’t know you’d ever been to the Snapdragon Hotel, let alone their restaurant.”
Claire nodded. “It was a long time ago. With a friend.”
“Did you?” Prissy blew out a breath and looked around. “At any rate, I should leave you two alone now. I need to feed your father, and I’m sure you kids want some time to yourselves to settle in. Just pull your car up next to mine in the driveway.” She looked from Claire to Jason. “If you need anything - anything at all - don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll see you for dinner at seven.”
Claire cleared her throat. “How is Dad? I’d like to see him.”
Prissy frowned. “No better, I’m afraid. He’s had quite a bit of excitement today. Let’s wait until morning for visiting, shall we?”
Claire nodded. As soon as Mother left, she started opening windows. “I hate her perfume. It gives me a headache ... and it makes the dizziness worse.”
“You should tell her.”
“I will.”
Marble Madonna
“This all looks so delicious!” Jason deposited a big spoonful of chicken Alfredo next to his cheese manicotti. Caesar salads and garlic bread accompanied each plate. At the center of the polished cherry wood dining table, four tall white candles burned in a gaudy silver candelabrum. Their dishes rested on fancy silvery placemats and Claire couldn’t help noticing Mother had broken out her best china - the same china neither she nor Tim had ever been allowed to use. Even at Thanksgiving dinner, the kids had been relegated to a card table set with plastic dishes.
“Would you like to say grace, Jason?” Mother asked.
Jason fidgeted with his linen napkin. “Um, won’t you do it tonight, Prissy?”
“Of course.” Mother closed her eyes, bowed her head, and clasped her hands in front of her. For a very long moment, she was as still as a marble Madonna. Jason and Claire exchanged glances.
Mother sighed. “Our Father in Heaven,” she began. “Bless us this day. We give You our thanks for the meal we, Your unworthy servants, are about to enjoy.” There was silence and just as Claire unclasped her hands, Mother continued. “Lord, thank You for the opportunity You’ve given me to spend time with my daughter, Carlene - who calls herself Claire now, just so You know - and her husband, Jason Holcomb.”
“It’s Holbrook, Mother.”
Mother took no notice as she plowed
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