way up, and luckily for all present, Miss Doris quickly spotted another victim across the chatty den whose lunch she saw fit to sour. And with a faux smile punctuated by insincere air kisses, she mercifully fled to a table of unsuspecting oversized-hat-wearing ladies who lunch.
“Well now, it is quite clear she has mastered one-half of the art of conversation,” Moozie said as she buttered another hearty bite of bread, letting the crumbs fall to the white tablecloth, as is the custom at Galatoire’s.
Vilma added, “See, somebody always has it worse than you. I mean, I wouldn’t want to dance in her shoes, even if they do cost an arm and a leg—and that makeup!”
“There is a limit to what a single solitary eyelid canbear,” Moozie declared as they both giggled like schoolgirls.
“Oh, sister, come on, it’s just a little cat-talk, and honestly, Mother, you were in rare form, two for two!”
Mom thought for a second, and shook her head softly. “You know, I never could gossip, I just don’t like it, ever since I was a little girl and Reverend Storm gave that sermon where he talked about how gossip was like cutting open a down pillow on a windy day, and trying to take it back would be like getting all those feathers back in the casing—impossible, and just because of a few words. Well, I don’t want them to talk about me that way, especially now, so how can I?”
“You know I was just trying to make you laugh, take your mind off things,” Vilma defended.
“I know, and I love you for it, both of you. But that woman is hurting, and so am I, we just show it in different ways.” She took a long sip of her Bloody Mary, then popped an anchovy olive in her mouth and continued, “Dr. Waters calls that compensating; some people go overboard in the opposite direction to avoid the truth. He says it’s a manifestation of—”
Moozie interrupted, “Oh, for crying out loud!” Just as Nelson arrived with their meal, “And thank the Lord, Nelson, you got here just in time.”
While Moozie was diverted by the appetizers, Vilma winked and shrugged to Mom as she had done since they were children, and Mom returned the gesture; it was their code, their mutual comment on their mother.
After the delicious meal and café brûlot dramaticallyserved flaming from a silver bowl with awe-inspiring ladle dexterity, the ladies made their way to Canal Street, to Adler’s, for the true purpose of the mission.
Mom paused for a moment under the grand bronze clock that landmarked the classic nineteenth-century structure, but instantaneously her cohorts locked arms on either side and marched her through the heavy glass doors, up to the main jewelry counter, where Mr. Wally stood poised for the sale.
He smiled. “Always a pleasure, Mrs. Batt, ladies. How may I assist you today?”
Then the feeding frenzy began. Brilliant diamonds and creamy pearls can sometimes take one’s mind off the everyday pains of life, at least for a few minutes. Some women have a weakness for shoes, some for designer clothes, some for furs. My mother’s passion is jewelry; she simply adores it. Mr. Wally presented diamond clip earrings set in gold, composed of many pear-shaped, top-quality stones that fit the shape of her ear to perfection. “Those will do,” she muttered. “To be honest, I’ve had my eye on these for a while.” The suggestions and commentary came rapid-fire, so much that Mr. Wally didn’t know whom to answer first, nor could he get a word in edgewise.
“Those are
heaven.”
“You think so? They’re not too much?”
“John will kill me.”
“Just let him try.”
“Oh, look at those, my stars, they are breathtaking, how many carats?”
This banter and flurry continued for what seemed likean eternity for Mr. Wally, but it was really under an hour. In the end, the girls decided on the diamond and gold clips, because they could be worn during the day to a dressy luncheon. However, Moozie made it clear that she didn’t
“Well now, it is quite clear she has mastered one-half of the art of conversation,” Moozie said as she buttered another hearty bite of bread, letting the crumbs fall to the white tablecloth, as is the custom at Galatoire’s.
Vilma added, “See, somebody always has it worse than you. I mean, I wouldn’t want to dance in her shoes, even if they do cost an arm and a leg—and that makeup!”
“There is a limit to what a single solitary eyelid canbear,” Moozie declared as they both giggled like schoolgirls.
“Oh, sister, come on, it’s just a little cat-talk, and honestly, Mother, you were in rare form, two for two!”
Mom thought for a second, and shook her head softly. “You know, I never could gossip, I just don’t like it, ever since I was a little girl and Reverend Storm gave that sermon where he talked about how gossip was like cutting open a down pillow on a windy day, and trying to take it back would be like getting all those feathers back in the casing—impossible, and just because of a few words. Well, I don’t want them to talk about me that way, especially now, so how can I?”
“You know I was just trying to make you laugh, take your mind off things,” Vilma defended.
“I know, and I love you for it, both of you. But that woman is hurting, and so am I, we just show it in different ways.” She took a long sip of her Bloody Mary, then popped an anchovy olive in her mouth and continued, “Dr. Waters calls that compensating; some people go overboard in the opposite direction to avoid the truth. He says it’s a manifestation of—”
Moozie interrupted, “Oh, for crying out loud!” Just as Nelson arrived with their meal, “And thank the Lord, Nelson, you got here just in time.”
While Moozie was diverted by the appetizers, Vilma winked and shrugged to Mom as she had done since they were children, and Mom returned the gesture; it was their code, their mutual comment on their mother.
After the delicious meal and café brûlot dramaticallyserved flaming from a silver bowl with awe-inspiring ladle dexterity, the ladies made their way to Canal Street, to Adler’s, for the true purpose of the mission.
Mom paused for a moment under the grand bronze clock that landmarked the classic nineteenth-century structure, but instantaneously her cohorts locked arms on either side and marched her through the heavy glass doors, up to the main jewelry counter, where Mr. Wally stood poised for the sale.
He smiled. “Always a pleasure, Mrs. Batt, ladies. How may I assist you today?”
Then the feeding frenzy began. Brilliant diamonds and creamy pearls can sometimes take one’s mind off the everyday pains of life, at least for a few minutes. Some women have a weakness for shoes, some for designer clothes, some for furs. My mother’s passion is jewelry; she simply adores it. Mr. Wally presented diamond clip earrings set in gold, composed of many pear-shaped, top-quality stones that fit the shape of her ear to perfection. “Those will do,” she muttered. “To be honest, I’ve had my eye on these for a while.” The suggestions and commentary came rapid-fire, so much that Mr. Wally didn’t know whom to answer first, nor could he get a word in edgewise.
“Those are
heaven.”
“You think so? They’re not too much?”
“John will kill me.”
“Just let him try.”
“Oh, look at those, my stars, they are breathtaking, how many carats?”
This banter and flurry continued for what seemed likean eternity for Mr. Wally, but it was really under an hour. In the end, the girls decided on the diamond and gold clips, because they could be worn during the day to a dressy luncheon. However, Moozie made it clear that she didn’t
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