We went downstairs to model it all for Grandmother Emma, who was in the hallway, giving Nancy some orders about housecleaning. She was displeased with something so much that when she turned, she didn't look me over that carefully.
"Very nice," she said, concentrating on the hem most of all. "I'm taking her for clothes this afternoon," Mama told her.
"Good idea," Grandmother Emma said, and returned to what she had been saying to Nancy.
"For once I'm happy she's absorbed in only what really interests her," Mama muttered, and hurried me away.
We spent the day shopping. Saleswomen were happy to see my mother in the department stores and all inquired after her health, as if they believed she had been away recuperating or something, because they hadn't seen her shopping that often.
"Look how big she's gotten," one of the more familiar salesladies said, looking at me.
Mama forced a smile to her face as if she was happy about it, but she tried to find clothes that deemphasized my development--loose fitting blouses, athletic shirts. We bought new sneakers and sandals, but the most difficult thing to find was a new bathing suit. We finally discovered a rose petal two-piece skirted suit that had a bulky top and was very concealing. She bought mc another in a blue color, too.
All in all, as we drove home. I could see Mama was happy about my new summer wardrobe. Once again, she told me she was actually looking forward to spending most of the summer up at the lake.
"I'll get a lot of reading done. We'll have picnics and go for boat rides and I'll take you and Ian to the fun park and we'll go horseback riding. They have that art show up there every summer and we'll eat in the nice little restaurants when Daddy comes up on the weekends. Ian needs to be outdoors more, too." She laughed, which was good to hear, and added, "I'd even go on one of his nature hunts with him."
"Me, too," I said.
I had forgotten how wonderful my mother's smile could be, but once she flashed it at me, it filled me with pleasure and caterpillar hope.
We were both surprised to see Daddy's car in front of the house when we drove up. Usually, he spent all day at the supermarket office or meeting with people. He was never home this early. Maybe he was here because of my birthday. I thought. He was going to spend more time with me.
"I thought he had that meeting with the men renovating the storage area," she muttered when we parked. I could see the look of concern sinking into her face a
nd darkening her eyes with worry.
The sunshine that had begun my birthday was being pushed away by bully clouds shoving the blue sky toward the horigon. I embraced some of my packages and bags and followed my mother into the house. The moment we entered. Daddy stepped out of the living room and glared at us, his face so red with irritation, he looked like he had broken out in a rash.
"My mother wants to speak to you," he told Mama.
"After I put Jordan's things away," she said.
"No. Caroline," he said. "Now. Just put all that on the bench there for the time being," he added, nodding at an antique bench in the entryway.
He was calling Mama "Caroline" instead of "Carol." No question about it. I thought, there was trouble.
No one seemed to take notice of me. I stood back while Mama did what Daddy had asked and walked to the living room. She didn't even tell me to go upstairs. She was that upset. I edged my way toward the living room and stood outside. Through the doorway I saw my mother standing and facing Grandmother Emma, who sat in her regal Victorian mahogany parlor chair, her arms on the chair arms, her back straight.
"What is it that couldn't possibly wait a few more minutes. Emma?" my mother demanded.
"I happened to have a conversation with Rene Dell'Acqua today," Grandmother Emma began.
I saw my mother's body stiffen, as if she had just been whipped across the back.
"A conversation that turned out to be more about Jordan than me."
"She has no right to discuss her patient's private medical information with anyone," my mother responded sharply, without wiating to hear another word.
"I'm not anyone, Caroline. I'm the girl's grandmother. I'm disappointed in both you and my son, keeping such a thing a secret from me."
"We live under your roof, but we do try to have our own lives. Emma," my mother said. She looked to Daddy to see if he would come to her aid, but he just stared at the floor, looking to me like a little boy who had been caught doing something naughty.
"Your lives, as you say, are not as separate from mine and from all this as you imagine or even would like, Caroline. Even though Bethlehem Steel is no more. I am still friends with the wives and families of former executives, not to mention many other influential people in this community. We are still on a stage, still looked up to, admired, the center of social attention. The March name follows you everywhere, and where you go, therefore. I go. Now," she said, waving her hand to chase away any further discussion about that, "who knows about this.. .this thing besides us?"
"No one, Emma. I don't go gossiping about my child's problems."
"That's unusual these days," Grandmother Emma said. "Most people can't wait to air their dirty laundry and others are glued to television sets watching them do it."