she’s taken to labeling each object with a number that refers to a detailed explanation in a little notebook: date, place, travel companions, context, and anecdote. Every day, she travels through time to a distant country, searching the depths of her memory for the extraordinary stories she can pass on. When she hosts her grandchildren, it’s with pleasure that she relates one of the journeys, often with wide eyes and laughter.
Beatrice says that when she’s finished her labeling, she’ll start on the family’s Super 8 movies. Certain films from the period between the wars have even been used in documentaries.
But Beatrice’s life hasn’t always been rosy. She’s the last surviving sibling among seven, and the surviving member of the happy couple she once formed with Georges, taken much too soon, more than fifty years ago. Beatrice raised her children by herself, learned how to rustle up the money she needed, how to cope with the growing solitude as her nearest and dearest disappeared. To counter the devastating effects of time, Beatrice strives to infuse her days with new blood, and, if possible, young blood. She tries to make herself as useful as possible—to the parish, to her neighbors, to her family. She wants to help those around her before she goes.
Careful to make her letters round and clear, Beatrice spends hours bent over her notebook choosing the right words, remembering the story exactly. On this particular day, she’s recording some memories of the immense, dark painting over the mantel, which depicts the portrait of a marshal of the Empire, a family ancestor. It’s a strange story of the forefather being condemned and pardoned, and the painting being stolen, then lost, and finally bought back.
In the growing shadows, she suddenly realizes it’s already 6:10 p.m. Good God! The show! She drops everything and runs to her armchair. Julien appears on the screen. She grumbles, realizing she’s missed the beginning of Questions for a Champion . She turns up the volume and leans forward to better hear the questions. She generally gets the answers before the contestants, whom she then berates with insulting names.
Beatrice has gotten four answers in a row when she turns, hackles up, eyes fixed on the phone, which is ringing. During Questions for a Champion ! In one leap, Beatrice jumps up, picks up the receiver, and slams it back down. Then she takes the telephone off the hook.
“Honestly! During my show. Now I’ve seen everything! People are really inconsiderate. Well, that’s nice, I missed the last qualifier!”
Across the landing, behind Ferdinand’s door, the same frenzy prevails. On the upper floors, as well. All of a sudden, the volume on all the televisions in the building is turned up by at least ten clicks. It’s time for “Four in a Row.” You could shout, scream, wail . . . no one would hear anything. Say, isn’t that Mrs. Suarez hollering from the trash area, calling for help with all her strength?
The contestant has just gotten four points in a row! Everyone shouts with joy—Julien Lepers, the contestant, Ferdinand, and all the grandmothers at their posts.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Each More Than the Last
There are days when everything smiles at you, when the planets align.
While Mrs. Suarez is very ill and very, very far away (that is, at the hospital following a heart attack), Ferdinand discovers among his mail an exquisite invitation to lunch from Mrs. Claudel. She requests that he join her “in all simplicity” to share lunch the next day, a Saturday, to recover together from the emotional past several weeks.
It’s been decades since Ferdinand was invited to lunch. The octogenarian is flattered because he knows how important weekend lunches are to his neighbor. He wonders if he’ll be good company. What does she talk about with her grandchildren? Literature, movies, travel?
Ferdinand panics. He’s already not the talkative type. Mrs. Claudel is the sort to talk
Beatrice says that when she’s finished her labeling, she’ll start on the family’s Super 8 movies. Certain films from the period between the wars have even been used in documentaries.
But Beatrice’s life hasn’t always been rosy. She’s the last surviving sibling among seven, and the surviving member of the happy couple she once formed with Georges, taken much too soon, more than fifty years ago. Beatrice raised her children by herself, learned how to rustle up the money she needed, how to cope with the growing solitude as her nearest and dearest disappeared. To counter the devastating effects of time, Beatrice strives to infuse her days with new blood, and, if possible, young blood. She tries to make herself as useful as possible—to the parish, to her neighbors, to her family. She wants to help those around her before she goes.
Careful to make her letters round and clear, Beatrice spends hours bent over her notebook choosing the right words, remembering the story exactly. On this particular day, she’s recording some memories of the immense, dark painting over the mantel, which depicts the portrait of a marshal of the Empire, a family ancestor. It’s a strange story of the forefather being condemned and pardoned, and the painting being stolen, then lost, and finally bought back.
In the growing shadows, she suddenly realizes it’s already 6:10 p.m. Good God! The show! She drops everything and runs to her armchair. Julien appears on the screen. She grumbles, realizing she’s missed the beginning of Questions for a Champion . She turns up the volume and leans forward to better hear the questions. She generally gets the answers before the contestants, whom she then berates with insulting names.
Beatrice has gotten four answers in a row when she turns, hackles up, eyes fixed on the phone, which is ringing. During Questions for a Champion ! In one leap, Beatrice jumps up, picks up the receiver, and slams it back down. Then she takes the telephone off the hook.
“Honestly! During my show. Now I’ve seen everything! People are really inconsiderate. Well, that’s nice, I missed the last qualifier!”
Across the landing, behind Ferdinand’s door, the same frenzy prevails. On the upper floors, as well. All of a sudden, the volume on all the televisions in the building is turned up by at least ten clicks. It’s time for “Four in a Row.” You could shout, scream, wail . . . no one would hear anything. Say, isn’t that Mrs. Suarez hollering from the trash area, calling for help with all her strength?
The contestant has just gotten four points in a row! Everyone shouts with joy—Julien Lepers, the contestant, Ferdinand, and all the grandmothers at their posts.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Each More Than the Last
There are days when everything smiles at you, when the planets align.
While Mrs. Suarez is very ill and very, very far away (that is, at the hospital following a heart attack), Ferdinand discovers among his mail an exquisite invitation to lunch from Mrs. Claudel. She requests that he join her “in all simplicity” to share lunch the next day, a Saturday, to recover together from the emotional past several weeks.
It’s been decades since Ferdinand was invited to lunch. The octogenarian is flattered because he knows how important weekend lunches are to his neighbor. He wonders if he’ll be good company. What does she talk about with her grandchildren? Literature, movies, travel?
Ferdinand panics. He’s already not the talkative type. Mrs. Claudel is the sort to talk
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