at last.
Now might be the right time to explain about needing to hold the doll and accidentally taking her down the ladder. Lexie turned words in her head, trying to choose the ones that would make Grandma and Grandpa understand. She still had to ask about the letter from Mama. Which should she do first?
She took a solid grip on her courage. “Grandma . . .”
The front doorbell jangled. Relief rushed through Lexie, but she ground her teeth. Now that she felt ready to go ahead and explain everything, she wanted to get it over with.
Grandma set her iron on its metal stand and walked into the hallway to the front door. Voices came to Lexie. She recognized Mrs. Wilkins’s sharp tone.
Something about it made Lexie lower the doll dress to her lap. She noticed Grandpa look up from his newspaper. Then Mrs. Wilkins said clearly, “That’s what Louise heard from Jack. I just thought you should know.”
Jack!
As a sharp sense of betrayal stabbed her, Lexie heard the door close. Grandma came into the kitchen with her eyes snapping. “I have received distressing information. Electra, I believe you have something to tell us.”
Resistance tore through Lexie, feeling even deeper than her disappointment in Jack. She knew that expression. Grandma had already made up her mind to think something bad. She had probably found a way to blame Mama, too. Lexie bent over the doll dress, forcing her needle to take tiny stitches in the hem, refusing to think about anything but the stitches.
“Electra?”
It was like Mama’s letter. Grandma had made up her mind not to share, even when the letter was clearly about Lexie. She hadn’t listened when Lexie tried to tell her about the accident with the doll because she was busy cleaning for her book club ladies. Now it was too late. Her mind was set.
“Do not ignore me, young lady.”
“What difference does it make?” Lexie muttered.
Grandma moved one step closer. “My own mother never put up with muttering from young people old enough to speak clearly. Let me hear you, Electra. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Lexie raised her head, pain making her angrier. Why didn’t Grandpa say something? He never questioned Grandma, as if she were ruler of the household. Papa was like that, too. He had laughed at Mama sometimes, but he never said she was wrong. This was why. He’d learned how to keep peace from Grandpa. No help would be coming.
Silence forced Lexie to speak. “You’ve already decided I’m wrong.”
She glanced at Grandma in time to see a strained look cross her face. Lexie felt her body grow tight in defense.
They’d been so friendly together, like a family. Now everything had changed, and deep inside, she knew it was her fault for taking the doll from Miss Tompkins’s room.
“Do you hear yourself?” Grandma demanded. “In my day, a flippant answer was not tolerated. But you get that from your mother.”
Lexie lurched to her feet, glad to aim the hurt away from herself. “I knew you would blame Mama! You always blame Mama! But my mama would never listen to a lady saying mean things at the door. She would shut the door in her face!”
As Grandma drew in a sharp breath, Grandpa set his paper on the table and got to his feet. He stepped behind Lexie and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Sophie, give the child a chance to tell her side of the matter.”
“That is exactly what I am trying to do.” Grandma visibly controlled her temper, though her cheeks had become bright pink. “I will ask you again, Electra. What happened at the Harmons’ boardinghouse with that doll meant for Japan?”
An ache spread through Lexie, blurring her thoughts and stabbing her heart. All she really knew was how desperately she missed Mama. Grandma blamed Mama for everything. It wasn’t fair.
Feeling defiance flare inside her, she raised her head. “You aren’t my mama. I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Grandpa’s hands tightened on her shoulders, as if in
Now might be the right time to explain about needing to hold the doll and accidentally taking her down the ladder. Lexie turned words in her head, trying to choose the ones that would make Grandma and Grandpa understand. She still had to ask about the letter from Mama. Which should she do first?
She took a solid grip on her courage. “Grandma . . .”
The front doorbell jangled. Relief rushed through Lexie, but she ground her teeth. Now that she felt ready to go ahead and explain everything, she wanted to get it over with.
Grandma set her iron on its metal stand and walked into the hallway to the front door. Voices came to Lexie. She recognized Mrs. Wilkins’s sharp tone.
Something about it made Lexie lower the doll dress to her lap. She noticed Grandpa look up from his newspaper. Then Mrs. Wilkins said clearly, “That’s what Louise heard from Jack. I just thought you should know.”
Jack!
As a sharp sense of betrayal stabbed her, Lexie heard the door close. Grandma came into the kitchen with her eyes snapping. “I have received distressing information. Electra, I believe you have something to tell us.”
Resistance tore through Lexie, feeling even deeper than her disappointment in Jack. She knew that expression. Grandma had already made up her mind to think something bad. She had probably found a way to blame Mama, too. Lexie bent over the doll dress, forcing her needle to take tiny stitches in the hem, refusing to think about anything but the stitches.
“Electra?”
It was like Mama’s letter. Grandma had made up her mind not to share, even when the letter was clearly about Lexie. She hadn’t listened when Lexie tried to tell her about the accident with the doll because she was busy cleaning for her book club ladies. Now it was too late. Her mind was set.
“Do not ignore me, young lady.”
“What difference does it make?” Lexie muttered.
Grandma moved one step closer. “My own mother never put up with muttering from young people old enough to speak clearly. Let me hear you, Electra. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Lexie raised her head, pain making her angrier. Why didn’t Grandpa say something? He never questioned Grandma, as if she were ruler of the household. Papa was like that, too. He had laughed at Mama sometimes, but he never said she was wrong. This was why. He’d learned how to keep peace from Grandpa. No help would be coming.
Silence forced Lexie to speak. “You’ve already decided I’m wrong.”
She glanced at Grandma in time to see a strained look cross her face. Lexie felt her body grow tight in defense.
They’d been so friendly together, like a family. Now everything had changed, and deep inside, she knew it was her fault for taking the doll from Miss Tompkins’s room.
“Do you hear yourself?” Grandma demanded. “In my day, a flippant answer was not tolerated. But you get that from your mother.”
Lexie lurched to her feet, glad to aim the hurt away from herself. “I knew you would blame Mama! You always blame Mama! But my mama would never listen to a lady saying mean things at the door. She would shut the door in her face!”
As Grandma drew in a sharp breath, Grandpa set his paper on the table and got to his feet. He stepped behind Lexie and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Sophie, give the child a chance to tell her side of the matter.”
“That is exactly what I am trying to do.” Grandma visibly controlled her temper, though her cheeks had become bright pink. “I will ask you again, Electra. What happened at the Harmons’ boardinghouse with that doll meant for Japan?”
An ache spread through Lexie, blurring her thoughts and stabbing her heart. All she really knew was how desperately she missed Mama. Grandma blamed Mama for everything. It wasn’t fair.
Feeling defiance flare inside her, she raised her head. “You aren’t my mama. I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Grandpa’s hands tightened on her shoulders, as if in
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