Joe said, “I wouldn’t have chosen to make the announcement quite like that, but yes, wehaveagreed on it. Marguerite reminded me that she was working when she met me, and working, in fact, almost until she stepped onto the ship to come here. She didn’tsayshe’d be bored stiff sitting around the apartment, but I definitely got that impression.”
“But of course,” I said, “one must occupy oneself.”
“Sonota gold-digger,” Sophie said.
“That’s enough,” Mr. Stark said. “Go to your room, young lady.”
Sophie crammed a last bite of French toast into her mouth and stood. She turned, though, in the doorway, and said, “You do realize, Mom, that you’re going to have to put on that reception for Joe and Marguerite after all, because I don’t think she’s going anywhere.”
“Upstairs,”Mr. Stark said.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m just pointing it out. Do you want your friends to think she’s feeble-minded, so you have to hide her away? Or maybe she’s a hunchback. Or she has a harelip. A clubfoot. Maybe all three. Or—oh, this is the best—she greets everybody with‘Sieg Heil!’or is Eva Braun’s little sister. That’s what they’re going to think, you know, if you won’t even give a party for them. Practically all Jewsdoisgo to weddings andgive presents, and here you are, making sure that poor Joe isn’t going to get a single one. Barbara got two toasters and three waffle irons and a vacuum cleaner! She had to return all sorts of things, but she bought an automatic washing machine with the money.Solucky. And there Joe and Marguerite will be, scrounging in the corners for a spare piece of dried-up cheese, eating off paper plates because nobody gave them any china, with not a monogrammed towel to be seen, while the world shuns them and Marguerite works her fingers to the bone to nobly support Joe, like the Little Match Girl. A person could cry.I’mpractically crying just imagining it. Well, I’m not, but that’s because I’m terribly unsentimental.”
Her father rose, and she said, “I’m going, I’m going. And look! I’m not even going to have to help with the dishes!”
We heard her on the stairs, and Mr. Stark sat down again, rather red in the face. The others sat frozen, Mr. and Mrs. Stark staring at each other as if they had no idea how to recover from this one.
I tried to control myself. I really did, but a bubble of laughter rose up all the same from my chest. I put my napkin hastily to my lips and tried to disguise it as a cough, but I didn’t succeed. My shoulders shook, and I was making noise. I knew better, truly, but I must have been a proletarian for too long, for I was laughing.
I did the only thing I could think of. I jumped up, flapped a hand, pointed to my face, hoped I looked like a person having a coughing fit, and ran into the kitchen. On the way there, a whoop escaped. Maybe they’d think it was whooping cough?
In the kitchen, I let the door swing closed, leaned against the counter, and lost all control. Joe burst through the door at that moment, stared at me, horrified, and said, “Marguerite. Darling, she’s just making trouble. I’m sure Mom and Dad didn’t say?—”
I flapped my hand at him. I couldn’t do more; I couldbarely draw breath. He stared some more, then started to grin. Slowly. “Are youlaughing?”
I nodded and fought for control, finally managing to say, “I think it was the . . . theclubfoot.”Unfortunately, Joe began laughing, too, and that set me off for good.
There was no question of controlling ourselves. We staggered around the kitchen, laughing like a pair of lunatics. Occasionally, one of us would gasp something, like, “aharelip,”or, “SiegHeil,”and off we’d go again.
By the time we finished, I was rather tear-stained, and we were both still shaking a bit with the echoes of laughter. Joe’s arms were around me, too, somehow. Which was when all the others came into the room.
It was a big kitchen, but notthatbig. Joe and I retreated to let them in, while I used my napkin to wipe my tear-stained cheeks.
“I apologize for Sophie,” Mrs. Stark said, her voice rather tight. “That girl has the mostatrociousmanners.”
“Sit down, Marguerite,” Barbara said. “Let me make you a cup of tea.”
“What a mess,” Mr. Stark said. “What a …”
“Schemozzle,” Joe helpfully supplied. “Marguerite’s not crying. She’s laughing.”
“Well, yes,” I said, looking up from my napkin. I’m afraid my hair was terribly disarranged. “I’m sorry; it was very rude of me to laugh. It was just …” I did some more napkin-waving. “Just so terribly funny.” My voice broke a little on the last word. “I didn’t think I’d bepopularwith Joe’s family, precisely, but the harelip, you know … the harelip was really too much.”
“You were laughing,” David said slowly.
“But of course,” I said. “How can one not? And yes,” I decided to add, “I have a bruise on my cheek. This isnotbecause Joe has been brutal to me, but because he flung outhis arm during a dream and his hand caught me on the cheekbone. I’m afraid it must be quite evident now, so it’s better to explain. You, who have known Joe so long, will know that it couldn’t be otherwise. I bruise easily, and I love my husband—my mostgentlehusband—with all my heart.”
Joe was grinning, his earlier unease gone, at least for now. “You see, folks, it takes more than a few words to get Marguerite down. She’s not very big, but she’s got the heart of a lion, and after what she’s been through, what’s a little hatred among family?”
This elicited a chorus of, “Nobody saidhatred,”and, “How ridiculous,” and then Joe said, “I haven’t even managed to finish my French toast. How about another pot of coffee, Mom? I’ve got a full day of studying ahead of me, and coffee’s probably up eight percent too. Better to drink somebody else’s.” He put his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek again. “It’s not life and death,” he told her. “Just a few growing pains. You’re going to love her when you know her, I promise. And we don’t care about the reception.”
17
ETHICS SCHMETHICS
When Joe came home the following evening—at six, which pleased me, for it meant that he was feeling free to study as he needed to—I was in the kitchen in my apron.
“I thought you were looking for a job today,” he said, removing his hat and coat—but only after kissing me. This pleased me also, that he hadn’t been able to wait. He’d done the kissing in the bending-back way, too.
