Melody (36 page)

“You're late,” Grandma said before anyone else could utter a word.

“We had a problem with the boat that kept us busy,” Uncle Jacob said.

Grandma Olivia didn't consider that a valid excuse. “Boats can wait, people can't,” she replied.

“Now, now, Olivia, don't be too harsh on those who still do an honest day's labor these days,” the judge chided. “How are you, Jacob?”

“Fair to middling, I suppose,” Uncle Jacob said. He nodded at his father, who still had his pleasant smile. “And you, Judge?”

“At my age, you don't dare complain,” Judge Childs replied.

“Oh, come now, Nelson,” Grandpa Samuel said, “you're only a year and a half older than I am.”

“And you're no spring chicken, Samuel,” the judge retorted. They both laughed. Then the judge turned with interest toward me. “Well now, Sara, you've got another chick under your wing, I see. And a pretty one at that.”

“Yes, Judge.” Aunt Sara put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me forward. “This is Melody. Haille's Melody.”

“Looks just like her,” the judge said, nodding. “Just as I remember her at that age. Hello, Melody,” he said.

“Hello.”

“How old are you now?” he asked.

“I'll be sixteen in a few weeks.”

“Oh, that's nice. Another June birthday celebration.”

“Kenneth's a Gemini, too, isn't he?” Aunt Sara asked the judge.

“Oh Sara, not that astrology again,” Grandma Olivia warned. Aunt Sara shrank back.

“Well, he was born June eighteenth. Does that mean anything?” the judge asked.

“Geminis are May twenty-first to June twentieth,”
Aunt Sara said in a small voice, her eyes full of fear as she glanced quickly at Grandma Olivia.

“I see,” Judge Childs said. “I'm afraid I don't keep up with that star business.” He shook his head at Grandpa Samuel and Grandma Olivia. “My maid Toby won't start her day without first checking those predictions in the newspaper.”

“Nonsense and stupidity, ramblings of the idiotic,” Grandma Olivia said.

“I don't know,” Judge Childs said shrugging. “Sometimes, I wonder what's better. Most of the fishermen I know are quite superstitious. Speaking of that, how's the lobstering been so far this year, Jacob?”

“Erratic,” Uncle Jacob said. “With all the pollution, the oil spills, I doubt if my grandchildren will be doing much lobstering.”

The judge nodded sadly. Aunt Sara directed Cary, May, and me toward the settee as the butler approached to see what sort of cocktail Uncle Jacob wanted.

“I don't drink,” he said sharply.

“You oughta ease up on that, Jacob,” Judge Childs said. “Doctors are now saying a drink a day is good for the heart. I know I followed that prescription even before it was the fad.”

“My son's afraid to cloud his judgment,” Grandpa Samuel said.

“And he's always had good judgment,” said Grandma Olivia. “Especially moral judgment,” she added, sending sharp arrows his way with her eyes.

Grandpa nodded. “That he has, that he has.”

I noticed that throughout most of the conversation Judge Childs kept his attention fixed on me and held that soft, small smile on his lips. Finally, as though no one else were in the room talking about anything else, he asked me how my mother was doing.

“How would she know?” Grandma Olivia snapped. “Haille's off to be a movie star.”

“Is that right?” the judge asked, still directing himself to me.

“Many people have told my mother that she was pretty enough to be a model or a movie star,” I said. “She has auditions and meetings in Hollywood.”

“Is that so?”

“Likely story.” Grandma Olivia looked at Uncle Jacob, who nodded and sneered with a face that was nearly a replica of his mother's. My daddy had taken after his father much more than his mother, whereas it was the exact opposite for Uncle Jacob.

“She was one of the prettiest girls in Provincetown,” the judge said. “Don't forget that beauty contest. I was one of the judges.”

“What beauty contest?” I blurted out. Aunt Sara brought her hand to her mouth to cover a gasp. I was breaking a rule: I was speaking before being spoken to.

“Your mother never told you?” Judge Childs asked.

“Apparently, her mother told her very little,” Grandma Olivia said with a twist in her thin lips.

“Oh, some company or another—I forget which one now—sponsored a Miss Teenage Cape Cod contest and it ended up here, with your mother one of the five finalists. They paraded around in their bathing suits and pretty dresses and answered questions with their eyelids batting.” He laughed. “None of the other four had a chance, did they, Samuel?”

“Not a chance,” he said nodding.

“Hardly an accomplishment to talk about now,” Grandma Olivia said.

“Oh, we all thought it was a lot of fun back then, Olivia. You had a celebration here, didn't you?” he reminded her. She glanced quickly at Grandpa Samuel.

“That wasn't my idea. I went along with it, but I never thought it was anything to brag about.”

“Why, as I recall, Provincetown folks were proud that one of their own took the prize. You know how people get competitive, especially with those Plymouth Rock folk,” Judge Childs added winking at me. “Didn't she get a trophy or something? You never saw it, Melody?” the judge asked me.

“No, sir.”

“Maybe she pawned it,” Grandma Olivia mumbled just loud enough for us all to hear.

“There wasn't a boy in town who wasn't in love with Haille in those days,” the judge continued. Grandma squirmed in her chair. “That's when Kenneth started camping out on your front lawn.” He laughed.

“How's he doing these days?” Grandpa Samuel asked. “I can't recall the last time I saw him.”

“Same as always,” the judge said shaking his head. “If I didn't go to his studio, I wouldn't see him either. He's married to his work, worse than a monk. I hear that those small clay sculptures of the terns are going for ten thousand dollars. Imagine that, Jacob?”

“I can't,” Uncle Jacob said. “Just a lot of foolish rich folk, I guess.”

“Kenneth's not complaining.” The judge gazed long and hard at me again. “What are your interests, Melody?”

“I'm not sure yet,” I said. “Maybe teaching,” I added, glancing at Cary. He blushed.

“Good idea,” the judge said nodding.

“She plays the fiddle,” Grandpa Samuel said. “You bring it tonight?”

I looked at Aunt Sara quickly and then back at him.

“No, Grandpa,” I said.

“Oh, that's a shame. I was looking forward to a concert.”

“I can go back and fetch it for her,” Cary volunteered, that impish smile on his face again.

“There's no time for that,” Grandma said, rising quickly. “It's time for dinner. Jerome,” she called and the butler popped into the doorway as if he had been dangling just above it.

“Madam?”

“Tell the kitchen we are ready to sit at the table,” she commanded.

He nodded. “Very well, madam.”

The judge rose and held out his arm.

“Olivia, allow me to escort you,” he offered, while throwing me a coy smile.

Holding her head high and her shoulders back, Grandma took his arm. Grandpa Samuel followed behind them and we walked behind him into the dining room.

The table was as elegant and as rich a table as I had ever seen, even in movies. The dishes were on silver platters and there were crystal goblets for the wine. There were three tall candles in each of two silver candelabra as well. Between candelabra was a spray of white roses. For this dinner the judge sat at Grandma's right side and Uncle Jacob sat on her left. Grandpa sat where he had sat before, as did Aunt Sara, May, Cary, and I.

Uncle Jacob said grace, which seemed to go on twice as long as usual, and the meal finally began. It was orchestrated like a theatrical performance with as many people serving the meal as were eating it, each person seemingly assigned the serving of one course. We began with a caviar appetizer. I was ashamed to say I didn't know what it was, but the judge's eyes twinkled with laughter when Uncle Jacob said, “I always feel guilty eating fish eggs.”

“I swear, Olivia,” the judge said, “you've raised a saint here.”

“Jacob is a good man,” she bragged. “We've been blessed.”

Uncle Jacob didn't blush at the compliment. He merely looked satisfied. But the judge threw me a smile and a wink. He was the main reason I was feeling relaxed at all.

Jerome poured wine for the adults and the judge offered a toast to everyone's good health and continued happiness. I was impressed with the way he could imbue his voice with senatorial power. There was an immediate sense of authority and strength. He could bring seriousness to a gathering in seconds, I thought.

The appetizer was followed with delicious cream of asparagus soup. While we ate, the judge discussed the local political scene and the fall elections. The adults listened attentively, as if they were party to classified information.

After the soup came a mixed salad of baby field greens and walnuts sprinkled with feta cheese in a raspberry vinaigrette dressing. That started everyone talking about the price of fresh produce, but to me it seemed that money problems were the smallest of worries for this family.

I was surprised when we were served a small ball of orange sorbet. Was the meal over and was this dessert? I wondered. The judge saw the confusion in my face and laughed.

“I don't think your granddaughter is familiar with this culinary custom, Olivia,” he said.

“How could she be, growing up in the back hills of West Virginia. The sorbet's meant to cleanse your palette. You know what your palette is?”

“Yes,” I said sharply. I glanced at Cary who was scowling at Grandma Olivia. She caught the look on his face and turned back to the judge to talk about the race for governor.

All the kitchen staff and the butler served the entrée, which consisted of roasted quails with wild rice and baby vegetables. There were servants all around us, replacing silverware, fixing napkins, pouring wine and water. One of the servants appeared to be assigned to Grandma Olivia only. The moment she started to reach for something, the maid was there to get it for her. It was truly an overwhelming feast, capped with a dessert that brought an exclamation of delight from the judge.

“Your favorite,” Grandma Olivia announced.

It was crème brûlée—something I had never seen nor tasted before. The moment I did, I knew why the judge loved it so.

“Good, isn't it?” he asked me.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Nothing wrong with enjoying rich things occasionally,” he said. “Is there, Jacob?” he asked, enjoying teasing my uncle. I had to admit, I enjoyed seeing him do it.

“As long as you know whom to thank for them,” Uncle Jacob said.

“Oh, I do. Thank you, Olivia, Samuel,” he said and laughed. My grandpa joined him, but Grandma Olivia shook her head as if he were behaving like a naughty little boy.

“Really, Nelson,” she said chidingly.

“I'm just kidding, of course. No one is more thankful than I for my good fortune. I only regret Louise couldn't be with me longer,” he added, losing his smile for a moment.

“We all miss her,” Grandma Olivia said.

“Thank you, Olivia.”

Coffee was served. Cary and I were permitted some. I had never tasted French vanilla coffee, either, but I didn't want to appear as unsophisticated as Grandma Olivia was making me out to be, so I sipped it as if I drank it every day.

When the meal ended, Grandpa suggested brandy and cigars in the parlor.

“This is when we could have heard that fiddle concert,” the judge remarked, his eyes glittering at me.

“I could still go fetch it,” Cary offered.

“By the time you returned, it would be too late,” Grandma said. “Another time.”

Cary looked disappointed, but I was relieved. I would have hated to perform before such a critical audience.

“You children amuse yourselves, but do not go out and then track in mud, Cary,” she warned.

As the judge passed me, he leaned over to say, “I'll hear that fiddle yet.” He winked and followed my grandparents and Uncle Jacob and Aunt Sara out of the dining room. The staff began to clear the table.

“You want to walk on the beach or just sit on the porch in the back?” Cary asked me.

I thought a moment.

“I'd like you to take me downstairs again and show me more of the pictures,” I said. He smiled.

“I had a feeling you were going to ask me to do that.” He signed to May, who looked excited about the idea. Cary fetched Grandpa Samuel's flashlight. We went out the rear of the house.

We didn't need the flashlight to walk around the outside of the house. The moon was fuller and brighter than ever, turning the ocean into silvery glass and making the sand glimmer like tiny pearls. I could see the horizon clearly delineated against the inky night sky in the distance.

“No wonder ancient people thought they would fall off the earth if they sailed out too far,” I said. “It looks so flat.” Cary nodded. I took May's hand as he led us around the corner of the house to the basement door.

“Don't let her get her dress dirty,” he warned, “or there'll be hell to pay.”

I signed the same to May as Cary opened the basement door. He turned on the flashlight, found the light switch for the single dangling bulb, and then beckoned us to follow. Because the shadows were so deep, we still needed the flashlight to find the cartons and sift through them.

“Easy,” Cary said when he brought one off the shelf. “The dust is thick. You'll get it all over yourself.”

I didn't care about that when I started to dig into the pile of pictures.