nothing but time on her hands and nothing to fill that time.”
A reminder that Karen was in general a crummy, neglectful granddaughter?
David examined a picture on the wall. “Who’re these women, Mrs. Freed?” He sounded intelligent and respectful.
“Those are women I employed in my shop.”
“What kind of shop was that, Mrs. Freed?” Oh, what a pussycat. “You designed your own hats? Where’d you get your ideas? Did you ever sell a hat to a famous person? Did you make men’s hats,
too?” He sounded as if Grandma’s having a hat shop was just about the most fascinating thing he’d ever come across. Before long, Davey and her grandmother were chatting away like two old best buddies.
Suddenly Karen heard her grandmother say, “Oh, no, Karen isn’t very curious.”
She sat there, hurt, stunned. Was it true? She thought of herself as full of questions. Big questions, important questions, the questions of her life!
“David,” her grandmother said, “you have more the makings of a reporter than a biologist.”
“Oh, I’ll report the doings of the frogs and the mosquitoes.” Her grandmother laughed as if she hadn’t ever been quite so well amused.
“I’m sure I say funnier things,” Karen said after they left. “And I never get her to crack a chuckle.”
“The old Kursh charm.”
“He said, modestly.”
“Karen, when a thing is so, it’s”
“I know, I know.”
“I like your grandmother. She’s kind of a grand-old-lady type.”
“Right.” The whole afternoon depressed her. That weird fight-no-fight with Davey. Then the visit with Grandma. Pretty clear that her grandmother preferred Davey, an utter stranger, to her. That hurt. “She’s awfully formal. Didn’t you think so?”
They stopped on the corner near the bank to wait for the bus. “What I think is,” he said, “if you don’t get along -with her, it’s your own fault.”
“Just what I need, Davey. A little honest criticism.” But it hit home. She found herself explaining how her grandmother was never interested in her.
“She’s always telling me to work hard in school. And saying how brilliant my father was. That’s her whole conversation with me. She’s different with Tobi and Liz. Well, everybody is fascinated by Tobi, anyway. And Grandma likes Liz because Liz is beautiful and
“Karen, get off it. The way you talk about your sistersit’s really sick!” He stuck his face in hers. “Sure, Liz is beautiful. She’s super beautiful. And Tobi, I’ll take your word she’s fascinating and smart. Maybe she’s a genius. So what? What does that make you? Nothing? Maybe you’re just jealous of your sisters, Karen.”
“Excellent! Thank you! This has been an outstandingly wonderful afternoon. You don’t like anything I do, you don’t like anything I say. I mean, it’s just been the same thing the whole bloody afternoon.”
“Hey.” Davey held up his hands. “Say no more.” The bus was coming, his bus, but he walked away and disappeared around the corner.
Eleven
Saturday morning, Karen threw some fruit and cookies in a bag, put her camera around her neck, and wheeled her bike out of the garage. The front tire was flat. She pumped it up and yelled goodbye again to her mother, who’d come outside to dump the garbage. Karen didn’t mean to do it, but found herself on Davey’s street. She bent low and pedaled fast past the little grocery store.
Going out of the city, traffic was heavy. It was a perfect spring day and the farther she got from the city, the bluer the sky. She was nearly to Paradise Lake when a red pickup truck slowed and pulled over. Scott looked out the window. “Karen!”
“Hi.” She straddled her bike.
“What are you doing way out here?”
“I was going over to Paradise Lake.”
He leaned on his arm. “Where the hell is that?”
She waved. “About a mile on.”
“Oh, you mean Mud Pond.”
“Mud Pond?”
“It’s where you’re going.”
“No. Paradise
A reminder that Karen was in general a crummy, neglectful granddaughter?
David examined a picture on the wall. “Who’re these women, Mrs. Freed?” He sounded intelligent and respectful.
“Those are women I employed in my shop.”
“What kind of shop was that, Mrs. Freed?” Oh, what a pussycat. “You designed your own hats? Where’d you get your ideas? Did you ever sell a hat to a famous person? Did you make men’s hats,
too?” He sounded as if Grandma’s having a hat shop was just about the most fascinating thing he’d ever come across. Before long, Davey and her grandmother were chatting away like two old best buddies.
Suddenly Karen heard her grandmother say, “Oh, no, Karen isn’t very curious.”
She sat there, hurt, stunned. Was it true? She thought of herself as full of questions. Big questions, important questions, the questions of her life!
“David,” her grandmother said, “you have more the makings of a reporter than a biologist.”
“Oh, I’ll report the doings of the frogs and the mosquitoes.” Her grandmother laughed as if she hadn’t ever been quite so well amused.
“I’m sure I say funnier things,” Karen said after they left. “And I never get her to crack a chuckle.”
“The old Kursh charm.”
“He said, modestly.”
“Karen, when a thing is so, it’s”
“I know, I know.”
“I like your grandmother. She’s kind of a grand-old-lady type.”
“Right.” The whole afternoon depressed her. That weird fight-no-fight with Davey. Then the visit with Grandma. Pretty clear that her grandmother preferred Davey, an utter stranger, to her. That hurt. “She’s awfully formal. Didn’t you think so?”
They stopped on the corner near the bank to wait for the bus. “What I think is,” he said, “if you don’t get along -with her, it’s your own fault.”
“Just what I need, Davey. A little honest criticism.” But it hit home. She found herself explaining how her grandmother was never interested in her.
“She’s always telling me to work hard in school. And saying how brilliant my father was. That’s her whole conversation with me. She’s different with Tobi and Liz. Well, everybody is fascinated by Tobi, anyway. And Grandma likes Liz because Liz is beautiful and
“Karen, get off it. The way you talk about your sistersit’s really sick!” He stuck his face in hers. “Sure, Liz is beautiful. She’s super beautiful. And Tobi, I’ll take your word she’s fascinating and smart. Maybe she’s a genius. So what? What does that make you? Nothing? Maybe you’re just jealous of your sisters, Karen.”
“Excellent! Thank you! This has been an outstandingly wonderful afternoon. You don’t like anything I do, you don’t like anything I say. I mean, it’s just been the same thing the whole bloody afternoon.”
“Hey.” Davey held up his hands. “Say no more.” The bus was coming, his bus, but he walked away and disappeared around the corner.
Eleven
Saturday morning, Karen threw some fruit and cookies in a bag, put her camera around her neck, and wheeled her bike out of the garage. The front tire was flat. She pumped it up and yelled goodbye again to her mother, who’d come outside to dump the garbage. Karen didn’t mean to do it, but found herself on Davey’s street. She bent low and pedaled fast past the little grocery store.
Going out of the city, traffic was heavy. It was a perfect spring day and the farther she got from the city, the bluer the sky. She was nearly to Paradise Lake when a red pickup truck slowed and pulled over. Scott looked out the window. “Karen!”
“Hi.” She straddled her bike.
“What are you doing way out here?”
“I was going over to Paradise Lake.”
He leaned on his arm. “Where the hell is that?”
She waved. “About a mile on.”
“Oh, you mean Mud Pond.”
“Mud Pond?”
“It’s where you’re going.”
“No. Paradise
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