The Two-Family House(27)

Aunt Faye and Uncle Stuart had no children or grandchildren. The floor in the foyer was polished marble (Dinah almost slipped when they first walked in), and there were expensive-looking crystal and china pieces on every surface. The coffee tables were made of glass, and even the couches managed to look fragile. They didn’t dare put Teddy down on the floor, for fear he might hurt himself on a sharp corner somewhere or (even worse) break something of Aunt Faye’s. Of course Aunt Faye didn’t have a high chair. So Teddy fidgeted on Rose’s lap.

Aunt Faye was pale and slim, and her gray-blond hair was swept up with silver combs. When Judith’s mother asked if she wanted to hold Teddy, Faye didn’t hesitate. “No, thank you, dear,” she said, wholly unapologetic. “My chemise,” she said, motioning to the white silk blouse she was wearing, “is not suitable for carrying babies. It’s terribly difficult to clean.”

“So Mort,” said Faye’s husband, Stuart, “how’s business these days? Anything new in boxes?” Stuart said this like it was a joke, but Mort answered seriously.

“Absolutely,” said Mort. “More and more food companies are using cardboard boxes, so we’re focusing production on this trend. Right now we’re working closely with a cereal manufacturer in Philadelphia.”

Judith could see that Stuart wasn’t pleased with the answer. He was frowning, drumming his thick fingers on the dining room table. Stuart was the kind of man who liked to give advice. If no one needed his advice, he became cranky.

“Better be careful,” Stuart cautioned. “This cereal fad might not last, you know. You can’t grow a business on trends, Mort.”

“I agree,” said Mort. “I’m following the numbers on all of this very closely. Trends come and go, but numbers don’t lie.”

“Hmmph,” said Stuart. He was sitting at the head of the table with Faye directly across from him at the other end. “Faye!” he almost shouted, “When are we serving the damn turkey already? The soup tastes like piss!”

“Stuart! There are children present!” said Aunt Faye.

“Well, they probably think it tastes like piss too.”

The girls giggled. Rose gave Judith a look, stood up and handed Teddy to Mort. “Take Teddy for a few minutes. I’m going to help Faye in the kitchen.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” said Aunt Faye. “Lucy can manage.” Lucy was Aunt Faye’s housekeeper. She was dressed for company that evening in a pearl-gray uniform with a white lace collar. Judith had never seen a real maid before, and having Lucy there made her uneasy. Judith thought her mother must be feeling the same way. They weren’t used to sitting around the table and waiting for someone else to serve them.

“Well,” Rose said, “why don’t I just do a quick check and make sure Lucy remembered to put the sweet potatoes I brought in the oven.” Dinah had cried her eyes out when they told her they weren’t having Thanksgiving at home. The only way they could calm her down was to promise they would still have the same sweet potato casserole with tiny marshmallows on top at Aunt Faye’s house. “Whatever you like, dear,” Faye agreed.

“I’ll come too,” Judith said. That way, she wouldn’t have to finish her soup.

“Mom, are you okay?” Judith asked as soon as they were in the oversized kitchen. “Shhh,” her mother hushed her. She turned to the maid. “Lucy, I think they’re ready for you to clear the soup bowls, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy said and hurried out to the dining room.

Rose turned back to Judith. “Stop making this so difficult, young lady,” she hissed.

Judith hadn’t known she was being difficult. She wasn’t the one who said the soup tasted like piss. In fact, she had been afraid to say almost anything at all. Aunt Faye and Uncle Stuart seemed like the kind of adults who thought children should be seen and not heard. She was just acting the way she thought she was supposed to.

“What did I do?” Judith asked.

“You laughed at the soup, you’ve been making faces since we arrived and you’ve barely spoken to your aunt!”

“I can’t think of anything to say!” Judith spoke a little too loudly.

“Lower your voice this instant!”

Judith was quiet. She bit her lower lip and tried not to cry.

“Mommy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know … I just miss being at home for Thanksgiving.”

“Stop carrying on!” Rose glared at Judith. “Poor, poor you, having Thanksgiving in a beautiful apartment with silver bowls and French china and a maid serving you like a princess instead of being back at home with your favorite aunt who makes the world’s best apple pie and can do no wrong! Maybe Aunt Helen isn’t so perfect! Did you ever think of that?”

Judith was in shock. Not even her father talked to her that way.

Lucy returned from the dining room holding a tray of nearly filled soup bowls and spoons. The maid walked into the kitchen tentatively, humming softly to herself. Judith wondered how much she had heard. As soon as Lucy set down the tray, Rose turned around and left the kitchen without saying another word.

Judith took a deep breath. Had she really behaved as badly as her mother said? Could her mother be jealous of the amount of time she had been spending with Aunt Helen? Judith had only been trying to be helpful, to keep the girls and Teddy out of her mother’s way. It was easier to go up to Aunt Helen’s than to keep everyone quiet all the time. And over the summer her mother had hardly gotten out of bed. What had Judith done wrong? What could she have done differently? She couldn’t think of anything.