Mendolay is only
one
. A little clear-cut will get lost in the vast range that the B and B faces. I doubt you’ll even notice it.
Dan
doesn’t think people will.”
I looked at Miss Bowzer as if she were from the moon. I never expected her to be on the side of the loggers. Never in a million years. And what did
Dan
have to do with it? Maybe the torturous choice between Dan Sneild and Uncle Jack had fragmented her brains.
“Anyhow, I’ve got pierogies to make. It’s pierogi night,” she said.
“
PIEROGI
night?” I said.
“Dan’s Ukrainian,” she said, and shrugged.
She never changed her menu for anyone, except for the one dish she’d added for Uncle Jack. And pierogi night was a much more serious commitment than air-driedbeef with lentils. She was devoting a whole
night
to it. Miss Bowzer must have fallen back in love with Dan Sneild! She’d probably want to become Ukrainian herself next! This was terrible! I tried to imagine Miss Bowzer in a long colorful dress and boots and a scarf, doing wild dances with a lot of other Ukrainians, as I had seen on TV once. Could Uncle Jack continue to love her through such a metamorphosis?
“I suppose now she’s going to put sauerkraut in everything the way Evie does mini marshmallows,” I said to Ked, who had pulled me nervously outside.
I had a vision of an all-Ukrainian menu and that reminded me that I hadn’t passed on any fake French food comments from Uncle Jack in a while, and I told Ked to wait for me a second while I dashed back into the kitchen of The Girl on the Red Swing and said, “Miss Bowzer, by the way, Uncle Jack said that a real cook could make
coq au vin
.”
“Coq au vin?”
Miss Bowzer put down the pork roast she was carrying from the freezer.
“Yeah,” I said, and then dashed out. I decided it was best just to let this simmer.
Outside, Ked was standing where I’d left him but had been joined by Bert and Evie.
“PRIMROSE!” said Evie in her wildly enthusiastic way. Sometimes she reminds me of a puppy, the way she greets people. And then, as if to be sure he didn’t feelleft out, she added, “AND SHE’S HERE WITH OUR FAVORITE BOY, KED!”
She would adopt him in a heartbeat, I thought. What kinds of responsibilities could he possibly have that would keep him from living in Coal Harbor? That would send him back to the kind of life that kept jettisoning him into foster homes?
“What are you kids up to?” asked Bert. “We’ve been to the library.” He hefted two big bags of books to illustrate.
“To use the Internet!” said Evie proudly.
“You went on the computer there?” I asked.
“We got some help from that nice librarian,” said Bert.
“Ms. Andersen,” said Evie.
“The one with the long hair.”
“And the glasses.”
“She showed us how. We were looking for cockapoo breeders.”
“We found all kinds of sites.”
“They’re called sites. Like building sites, the places where you go.”
“There’s more breeders than you’d think.”
“Are you getting a new dog?” I asked. This was surprising news because they were so broken up about Quincehead that I’d have thought it would take much longer until they were ready.
As if reading my mind, Evie said, “We know there will never be another dog like Quincehead.”
“Evie thought if Quincehead ever died it would be years, maybe never, until she could get a new dog.”
“That’s what’s so amazing,” said Evie.
“Because we realized the big hole Quincehead left in our lives.”
“And Evie said to me, Let’s get a dog.”
“But that’s when we decided to do lots of research first.”
“Because Quincehead was a fluke.”
“We didn’t research or nothing to find Quincehead. He just fell into our lap and he was the perfect dog.”
“We’ll never see his like again.”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“So it’s only fair to try and find a nearly perfect dog.”
“Because it wouldn’t be fair to the
dog
if we didn’t.”
“He’s
one
. A little clear-cut will get lost in the vast range that the B and B faces. I doubt you’ll even notice it.
Dan
doesn’t think people will.”
I looked at Miss Bowzer as if she were from the moon. I never expected her to be on the side of the loggers. Never in a million years. And what did
Dan
have to do with it? Maybe the torturous choice between Dan Sneild and Uncle Jack had fragmented her brains.
“Anyhow, I’ve got pierogies to make. It’s pierogi night,” she said.
“
PIEROGI
night?” I said.
“Dan’s Ukrainian,” she said, and shrugged.
She never changed her menu for anyone, except for the one dish she’d added for Uncle Jack. And pierogi night was a much more serious commitment than air-driedbeef with lentils. She was devoting a whole
night
to it. Miss Bowzer must have fallen back in love with Dan Sneild! She’d probably want to become Ukrainian herself next! This was terrible! I tried to imagine Miss Bowzer in a long colorful dress and boots and a scarf, doing wild dances with a lot of other Ukrainians, as I had seen on TV once. Could Uncle Jack continue to love her through such a metamorphosis?
“I suppose now she’s going to put sauerkraut in everything the way Evie does mini marshmallows,” I said to Ked, who had pulled me nervously outside.
I had a vision of an all-Ukrainian menu and that reminded me that I hadn’t passed on any fake French food comments from Uncle Jack in a while, and I told Ked to wait for me a second while I dashed back into the kitchen of The Girl on the Red Swing and said, “Miss Bowzer, by the way, Uncle Jack said that a real cook could make
coq au vin
.”
“Coq au vin?”
Miss Bowzer put down the pork roast she was carrying from the freezer.
“Yeah,” I said, and then dashed out. I decided it was best just to let this simmer.
Outside, Ked was standing where I’d left him but had been joined by Bert and Evie.
“PRIMROSE!” said Evie in her wildly enthusiastic way. Sometimes she reminds me of a puppy, the way she greets people. And then, as if to be sure he didn’t feelleft out, she added, “AND SHE’S HERE WITH OUR FAVORITE BOY, KED!”
She would adopt him in a heartbeat, I thought. What kinds of responsibilities could he possibly have that would keep him from living in Coal Harbor? That would send him back to the kind of life that kept jettisoning him into foster homes?
“What are you kids up to?” asked Bert. “We’ve been to the library.” He hefted two big bags of books to illustrate.
“To use the Internet!” said Evie proudly.
“You went on the computer there?” I asked.
“We got some help from that nice librarian,” said Bert.
“Ms. Andersen,” said Evie.
“The one with the long hair.”
“And the glasses.”
“She showed us how. We were looking for cockapoo breeders.”
“We found all kinds of sites.”
“They’re called sites. Like building sites, the places where you go.”
“There’s more breeders than you’d think.”
“Are you getting a new dog?” I asked. This was surprising news because they were so broken up about Quincehead that I’d have thought it would take much longer until they were ready.
As if reading my mind, Evie said, “We know there will never be another dog like Quincehead.”
“Evie thought if Quincehead ever died it would be years, maybe never, until she could get a new dog.”
“That’s what’s so amazing,” said Evie.
“Because we realized the big hole Quincehead left in our lives.”
“And Evie said to me, Let’s get a dog.”
“But that’s when we decided to do lots of research first.”
“Because Quincehead was a fluke.”
“We didn’t research or nothing to find Quincehead. He just fell into our lap and he was the perfect dog.”
“We’ll never see his like again.”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“So it’s only fair to try and find a nearly perfect dog.”
“Because it wouldn’t be fair to the
dog
if we didn’t.”
“He’s
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