The telephone shrilled at that moment, and we all stared at each other. “Barbara,” Mrs. Stark said on a breath, and paled. “The baby.”
Mr. Stark didn’t answer, presumably because he was picking up the telephone in the front hallway. I strained tohear the tone of his voice, for one could always tell bad news that way.
Fifteen seconds. Thirty. Then Mr. Stark was back in the kitchen.
“Well?” Mrs. Stark asked.
“Well,” Mr. Stark said, and picked up his brandy-and-soda. “I think it’s time for a toast. We have a grandson, and Marguerite’s necklace has sold at auction.”
I couldn’t breathe. I almost couldn’t stand. How I wished Joe were here!
“And?” Mrs. Stark demanded.
“And,” Mr. Stark said, “the winning bid was for forty-two thousand pounds.”
“Forty-two thousand …” I said, barely able to breathe.
“But how muchisthat?” Mrs. Stark asked.
“Approximately a hundred sixty thousand dollars,” Mr. Stark said. He raised his glass.“L’chaim.”
32
FAILING AT MEEKNESS
Many things happened over the following weeks. Joe began to recover over the next days, for one. For another, Mrs. Stark rang on the telephone that Sunday while I was at Mass. Joe told me later, “She was calling to check how I’m doing, just like she’s called every day. I’d like to point out that nobody was this worried about me when I got shot, but that would only remind her of how fragile I am. Just because I had some asthma as a kid. Do I have asthma now, though? No, I do not. I managed to serve Uncle Sam not entirely terribly for three years and never suffered so much as one episode of trenchfoot or dysentery, either.” He moved his legs on the footstool rather irritably—I’d found Joe’s flaw; he hated to be confined or constrained—and added, “You’d think she’d have enough to occupy her taking care of Barbara and Sam. Want to bet that David’s ready to bar the door?”
“No,” I said. “I expect he may be wishing for quiet. Alas, babies are not very silent, and men don’t always realize how many things there are to do in a house. I knowIdidn’t; the servants were so efficient that one barely noticed all they did. The marketing, the cleaning—babies require great cleanliness—the cooking, the thinking ofwhatto cook; oh, a great many things. And with a baby, you know, there’s also a great deal of washing, and Barbara must also recover herself. How fortunate that she has a mother so eager to help, and also an automatic washing machine! And that it isn’t raining, too, so one may dry the clothes outside.”
“Why won’t you ever let me be grouchy?” Joe asked. “You always have such a reasonable answer.”
I laughed and dropped a kiss on his head. “I’m sorry. Next time, you must tell me, ‘I wish to complain unreasonably now. Please don’t attempt to soothe me.’”
“Ha,” Joe said, but he was smiling. “Mom wants you to call her back.”
I blinked. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Probably to instruct you to make sure I wrap up my throat in a muffler. Or she wants to ask whether we have soup, or if she should drive all the way down here with some of her own so I won’t die of inadequate caretaking. Don’t worry; I didn’t tell her about the Campbell’s Chicken Noodle.”
“Very fortunate,” I said. “I will ask very meekly that she send me her most excellent recipe through the mail, so I can prepare it for you. This will please her, I think.”
Unfortunately, it didn’t. Oh, it didn’thurt,and the meekness of my request did make Joe smile. Mrs. Stark promised to send the recipe, but in the rather frosty tones I’d encountered at the beginning of our acquaintance.
“I think you wish to tell me something else, too,” I said. I couldn’t imagine what; her disappointment that I wasn’t planning to hand over the necklace money to Joe and ask him to invest it for me, as I was much too scatterbrained and foolish to make such decisions? That I’d erred in allowing Joe to catch flu at all, and must not be building him up enough? The sooner she said it, the sooner we would be done with it.
“Well, I do,” she said. “Certainly I do. Why would you think it was appropriate to talk to Sophie—tomydaughter—about the facts of life?”
“The facts of … I’m sorry. What facts have I conveyed to Sophie?”
“About her time of the month,” she said, “and worse.” This last was said very darkly, as if I’d taught Sophie some secret killing technique.
I was sitting beside Joe with the telephone cord stretched out from the wall—the advantage of a small apartment. I said, “One moment, please,” and told him, “I think perhaps we should both be part of this conversation.”
“You’re kidding,” he said. “What’s going on now?” I wondered how angry he would be if I told him to go lie down and take a nap instead of trying to study. Quite angry, I decided, so I wouldn’t say it. Iwouldpoint out that he was snapping at me, though.Afterthe phone call.
Meanwhile, I put my head beside his and positioned the telephone receiver so we could both hear. “Joe is now listening too. Yes, we discussed this with Sophie, as she had many questions.”
“Wediscussed?WEdiscussed?” Mrs. Stark was almost sputtering now. “You askedJoeto talk about … aboutthatwith his sister?”
