Other People's Lives by Johanna Kaplan Page A

lingering lopsided lips and with her tongue emphasized the sounds that students, in a dictation, might have forgotten to underline.
    Maria said, “It’s all, I think, different here now, Rebecca. You had always on the left side your studio.”
    â€œ Studio! Please, Maria! You think I didn’t know what I had there? It was a shed! A shed is a shed. And it was all right for the summers, but as soon as I decided that I would really be up here I knew I had to have something different. And Leon wouldn’t let me sit all day in what was practically an outhouse, so I’m building a marvelous showroom that’s an addition to the house, and it was designed by a brilliant boy from Yale Architecture School. You probably know him—Jesse Sandweiss. He’s young and marvelous and full of wonderful, creative ideas and he comes from a wonderful family, I always loved him and told them to have faith in him, no matter what! And I did, and I was right, and there’s nothing he won’t do for me. But there’s nothing he can do about the builder! Who’s a crook and a reactionary, you should see his pig eyes and his German wife and it frightens me to even think of their children someday in a ballot box. And that’s why you have to forgive me—because most of my good stuff is still in the shed, and all because of that lousy builder the showroom is freezing and you won’t have anything to see.”
    â€œI can’t anyway afford things, Rebecca. It’s not why I came.”
    â€œI know, darling. Who can? It’s a terrible time and I saw it coming—I lived through one Depression and now I’m living through another! I warned Leon. We lost so much money, I saw all the signs and our broker feels terrible. He’s a wonderful boy—Bobby Meltzer. We’ve known his father since God knows when and you can imagine how he feels! He gave him all his business—and after all that, Bobby lost everything. Everything! Of course it’s not his fault—it’s the times, it’s economics. But he’s a very sensitive boy, Bobby. Not that he’s a boy any more. He has a wife and three little babies. And his wife is marvelous. From a very wealthy family. And with her taste and her background she can’t stay away from me and my beautiful things. She loves my attitude about life—you know, with that kind of money there isn’t always a lot of warmth in the home—Ooh! Did you hear that? It’s the phone! I can hear it through my earmuffs. Let me quick run and answer it! Come on!”
    Inside, stamping her feet from the snow and the cold, Rebecca disappeared—even more like Rumpelstiltskin—through a swinging door, leaving them all in her large, chilly showroom. It was wood-beamed but mostly empty-two small antique chests and a highboy stood to one side, and several sets of andirons were laid out before an unfinished fireplace. Exactly in the center, like a stage set, were an old kitchen table, a few ordinary chairs, and a potbelly stove.
    â€œA Koche Ofen! ” Maria said. “It’s what we had at my cousin Klaus’. You heat up the bricks and it makes you then very warm. Not, you know, so warm, but better.”
    Matthew said, “Mommy, Jamie Laufer. When can we ask her?”
    â€œAs soon as she comes off the phone, angel, I promise. You can have now the sandwiches, yes, baby?”
    Julie, who had zipped up her fatigue jacket and pulled her wool cap down so that it covered her face almost entirely, looked around the bare room and said, “Typical. Absolutely typical. Andirons and no fire! I can’t believe it—it’s exactly what my mother would do. Except that we did have a real fire and a fireplace. In the country.”
    â€œShe would have, I think, a fire, Julie. Only she doesn’t yet have the fireplace finished. If you stand near to the stove you’ll be warmer.”
    Maria herself was not