Volvo zips right through the snow and ice. It's even moose-proof!”
“Moose-proof?”
“My family will survive hitting a moose,” Bernard states with authority.
“There aren't any moose around here that I'm aware of, aside from the guys who own the lodge up on Route 5.”
“We have plenty of deer,” says the unsinkable Bernard. “Now I hate to turn your attention back to the events at hand, but I've come to measure the children for their outfits. Thank Goddess it's early winter and the stores are still carrying some black and navy.”
“I didn't even think of clothes,” I said. “Try not to spend much.” Bernard is constantly buying expensive dresses for his daughters. Gigi doesn't mind, but Rose tends to start pulling hers apart the minute he's out of sight.
“Don't worry about a thing,” says Bernard. He glances at all the flowers and fruit baskets from Dad's office coworkers pushed off in the corner. “It will be my contribution instead of a fruit basket.” He spots the family photo on the mantel, sighs, and adds, “Life is so laissez unfaire.”
“We haven't told the little kids yet,” I explain. “Only Teddy knows.”
“I see,” says Bernard. “I'll simply eyeball the measurements and hedge on the larger side. If need be, we'll just do a nip and tuck here and there. Can your Aunt Lala sew?”
Aunt Lala has just walked out of the kitchen, teary-eyed after watching Lillian crawl around saying, “Mama, Mama.”
“I wouldn't count on it,” I whisper to Bernard. “If Aunt Lalamanages to get dressed and visit my mom at Dalewood this morning, it will be a minor miracle.” As if on cue the toaster begins to smolder and I discover that Aunt Lala has put two thin slices of bread in there and then switched it on high before exiting.
“If only Mother were here.” From the sigh in Bernard's voice I can tell that he wishes Olivia were back for a lot more than just sewing alterations. The constant bickering aside, they really do depend on each other, and it's obvious that he's been a bit lost with her away for an extended period of time.
“Have you heard anything from Olivia and Ottavio lately?” I ask. “She sent me a postcard from Florence around Christmastime.”
Bernard perks up at the subject. “They finally left Italy after visiting Ottavio's family. And of course they had to go see all of Bernini's fountains and the great piazza in front of St. Peter's in Rome. Now they're on some Greek island, where Mother is immersing herself in poetry. Next stop are the pyramids in Egypt and the library of Alexandria, and then they'll be home in April.
“Wow, it sounds like a great trip.”
“I suppose I'm happy for her,” says Bernard. “Mother always loved to travel, and then Father became ill and she didn't go anywhere for years, except that quick trip to Florida.”
“I suppose it's best to go places whenever you can.” I don't mean to refer to the fact that I might be stuck here in this house raising these kids for the next ten years, but I guess that's how it sounds. And who knows, maybe it is what I mean. I keep telling myself that it's horribly wrong and selfish to be thinking about my own life at a terrible time like this, but it does creep into the back of my mind.
“Yes, one never knows what tomorrow will bring,” Bernardsays philosophically. “Now why don't you fix your hair while I find the children.”
After washing my hair again, only this time with a half bottle of conditioner, I struggle with a brush and the hair dryer to try to bring it under control. Instead I end up looking like the Cowardly Lion from
The Wizard of Oz.
When I finally give up and switch off the dryer, the phone is ringing. I swear the thing starts at seven in the morning and doesn't stop until eleven o'clock at night. We had an answering machine for about a week, until Davy attempted to convert it into a two-way radio. I go to pick up the phone in Mom and Dad's room, but the handset is nowhere in
“Moose-proof?”
“My family will survive hitting a moose,” Bernard states with authority.
“There aren't any moose around here that I'm aware of, aside from the guys who own the lodge up on Route 5.”
“We have plenty of deer,” says the unsinkable Bernard. “Now I hate to turn your attention back to the events at hand, but I've come to measure the children for their outfits. Thank Goddess it's early winter and the stores are still carrying some black and navy.”
“I didn't even think of clothes,” I said. “Try not to spend much.” Bernard is constantly buying expensive dresses for his daughters. Gigi doesn't mind, but Rose tends to start pulling hers apart the minute he's out of sight.
“Don't worry about a thing,” says Bernard. He glances at all the flowers and fruit baskets from Dad's office coworkers pushed off in the corner. “It will be my contribution instead of a fruit basket.” He spots the family photo on the mantel, sighs, and adds, “Life is so laissez unfaire.”
“We haven't told the little kids yet,” I explain. “Only Teddy knows.”
“I see,” says Bernard. “I'll simply eyeball the measurements and hedge on the larger side. If need be, we'll just do a nip and tuck here and there. Can your Aunt Lala sew?”
Aunt Lala has just walked out of the kitchen, teary-eyed after watching Lillian crawl around saying, “Mama, Mama.”
“I wouldn't count on it,” I whisper to Bernard. “If Aunt Lalamanages to get dressed and visit my mom at Dalewood this morning, it will be a minor miracle.” As if on cue the toaster begins to smolder and I discover that Aunt Lala has put two thin slices of bread in there and then switched it on high before exiting.
“If only Mother were here.” From the sigh in Bernard's voice I can tell that he wishes Olivia were back for a lot more than just sewing alterations. The constant bickering aside, they really do depend on each other, and it's obvious that he's been a bit lost with her away for an extended period of time.
“Have you heard anything from Olivia and Ottavio lately?” I ask. “She sent me a postcard from Florence around Christmastime.”
Bernard perks up at the subject. “They finally left Italy after visiting Ottavio's family. And of course they had to go see all of Bernini's fountains and the great piazza in front of St. Peter's in Rome. Now they're on some Greek island, where Mother is immersing herself in poetry. Next stop are the pyramids in Egypt and the library of Alexandria, and then they'll be home in April.
“Wow, it sounds like a great trip.”
“I suppose I'm happy for her,” says Bernard. “Mother always loved to travel, and then Father became ill and she didn't go anywhere for years, except that quick trip to Florida.”
“I suppose it's best to go places whenever you can.” I don't mean to refer to the fact that I might be stuck here in this house raising these kids for the next ten years, but I guess that's how it sounds. And who knows, maybe it is what I mean. I keep telling myself that it's horribly wrong and selfish to be thinking about my own life at a terrible time like this, but it does creep into the back of my mind.
“Yes, one never knows what tomorrow will bring,” Bernardsays philosophically. “Now why don't you fix your hair while I find the children.”
After washing my hair again, only this time with a half bottle of conditioner, I struggle with a brush and the hair dryer to try to bring it under control. Instead I end up looking like the Cowardly Lion from
The Wizard of Oz.
When I finally give up and switch off the dryer, the phone is ringing. I swear the thing starts at seven in the morning and doesn't stop until eleven o'clock at night. We had an answering machine for about a week, until Davy attempted to convert it into a two-way radio. I go to pick up the phone in Mom and Dad's room, but the handset is nowhere in
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