Hemlock to see.
“You’re not going to wear that!” Nora roared from behind him.
“I certainly am!”
“Then I’m not going!”
“Yes you are.”
“It’s hideous.”
“You’re just jealous because you don’t have this outfit.”
“I’m thrilled that I don’t have it.”
He grabbed her and they danced around the room, both laughing, Nora to the point of having tears in her eyes. Her husband, an uptight tax accountant with a stodgy outfit like Wiley & Beck, trying his best to dress like a beach bum. And missing badly.
The phone rang.
As Luther would remember after, he and Norastopped their dancing and laughing on the second ring, maybe the third, and for some reason paused and stared at the phone. It rang again, and he walked a few steps to get it. Things were deathly still and quiet; as he recalled later, everything seemed to be in slow motion.
“Hello,” he said. For some reason, the receiver felt heavier.
“Daddy, it’s me.”
He was surprised, then he was not. Surprised to hear Blair’s voice, but then not surprised at all that she had schemed some way to get to a phone to call her parents and wish them a Merry Christmas. They had phones in Peru, after all.
But her words were so crisp and clear. Luther had trouble picturing his beloved daughter on a stump in the jungle yelling into some portable satellite phone.
“Blair,” he said. Nora bolted to his side.
The next word that registered with Luther was the word “Miami.” There were words before it and some after, but that one stuck. Just seconds into the conversation Luther was treading water and about to sink. Things were swirling.
“How are you, dear?” he asked.
A few words, then that “Miami” word again.
“You’re in Miami?” Luther said, his voice high and dry. Nora shuffled quickly so that her eyes, wild and harsh, were just inches from his.
Then he listened. Then he repeated, “You’re in Miami, coming home for Christmas. How wonderful, Blair!” Nora’s jaws unlocked, her mouth fell open as wide as Luther had ever seen it.
More listening, then “Who? Enrique?” Then at full volume, Luther said, “Your fiancé! But what fiancé?!”
Nora somehow managed to think, and she pushed the Speaker button on the phone. Blair’s words poured forward and echoed around the living room: “He’s a Peruvian doctor I met right after I got here, and he’s just so wonderful. We fell in love at first sight and within a week decided to get married. He’s never been to the States and he’s so excited. I’ve told him all about Christmas there—the tree, the decorations, Frosty up on the roof, the Christmas party, everything. Is it snowing, Daddy? Enrique has never seen a white Christmas.”
“No, honey, not yet. Here’s your mother.” Luther handed the receiver to Nora, who took it, though with the Speaker button down it wasn’t needed.
“Blair, where are you, dear?” Nora asked, doing a good job of sounding enthused.
“In the Miami airport, Mom, and our flight gets home at six-oh-three. Mom, you’re gonna love Enrique, he’s the sweetest thing, and drop-dead gorgeous, too. We’re crazy in love with each other. We’ll talk about the wedding, probably do it next summer, don’t you think?”
“Uh, we’ll see.”
Luther had fallen onto the sofa, apparently stricken with a life-threatening ailment.
Blair gushed on: “I’ve told him all about Christmas on Hemlock, the kids, the Frostys, the big party at our house. You’re doing the party, aren’t you, Mom?”
Luther, near death, groaned, and Nora made her first mistake. In the panic of the moment she could not be blamed for muddled thinking. What she should’ve said, what she wished she’d said, what Luther later, with perfect hindsight, claimed she should’ve said, was “Well, no, honey, we’re not doing the party this year.”
But nothing was clear right then, and Nora said, “Of course we are.”
Luther groaned again. Nora looked at him, the
“You’re not going to wear that!” Nora roared from behind him.
“I certainly am!”
“Then I’m not going!”
“Yes you are.”
“It’s hideous.”
“You’re just jealous because you don’t have this outfit.”
“I’m thrilled that I don’t have it.”
He grabbed her and they danced around the room, both laughing, Nora to the point of having tears in her eyes. Her husband, an uptight tax accountant with a stodgy outfit like Wiley & Beck, trying his best to dress like a beach bum. And missing badly.
The phone rang.
As Luther would remember after, he and Norastopped their dancing and laughing on the second ring, maybe the third, and for some reason paused and stared at the phone. It rang again, and he walked a few steps to get it. Things were deathly still and quiet; as he recalled later, everything seemed to be in slow motion.
“Hello,” he said. For some reason, the receiver felt heavier.
“Daddy, it’s me.”
He was surprised, then he was not. Surprised to hear Blair’s voice, but then not surprised at all that she had schemed some way to get to a phone to call her parents and wish them a Merry Christmas. They had phones in Peru, after all.
But her words were so crisp and clear. Luther had trouble picturing his beloved daughter on a stump in the jungle yelling into some portable satellite phone.
“Blair,” he said. Nora bolted to his side.
The next word that registered with Luther was the word “Miami.” There were words before it and some after, but that one stuck. Just seconds into the conversation Luther was treading water and about to sink. Things were swirling.
“How are you, dear?” he asked.
A few words, then that “Miami” word again.
“You’re in Miami?” Luther said, his voice high and dry. Nora shuffled quickly so that her eyes, wild and harsh, were just inches from his.
Then he listened. Then he repeated, “You’re in Miami, coming home for Christmas. How wonderful, Blair!” Nora’s jaws unlocked, her mouth fell open as wide as Luther had ever seen it.
More listening, then “Who? Enrique?” Then at full volume, Luther said, “Your fiancé! But what fiancé?!”
Nora somehow managed to think, and she pushed the Speaker button on the phone. Blair’s words poured forward and echoed around the living room: “He’s a Peruvian doctor I met right after I got here, and he’s just so wonderful. We fell in love at first sight and within a week decided to get married. He’s never been to the States and he’s so excited. I’ve told him all about Christmas there—the tree, the decorations, Frosty up on the roof, the Christmas party, everything. Is it snowing, Daddy? Enrique has never seen a white Christmas.”
“No, honey, not yet. Here’s your mother.” Luther handed the receiver to Nora, who took it, though with the Speaker button down it wasn’t needed.
“Blair, where are you, dear?” Nora asked, doing a good job of sounding enthused.
“In the Miami airport, Mom, and our flight gets home at six-oh-three. Mom, you’re gonna love Enrique, he’s the sweetest thing, and drop-dead gorgeous, too. We’re crazy in love with each other. We’ll talk about the wedding, probably do it next summer, don’t you think?”
“Uh, we’ll see.”
Luther had fallen onto the sofa, apparently stricken with a life-threatening ailment.
Blair gushed on: “I’ve told him all about Christmas on Hemlock, the kids, the Frostys, the big party at our house. You’re doing the party, aren’t you, Mom?”
Luther, near death, groaned, and Nora made her first mistake. In the panic of the moment she could not be blamed for muddled thinking. What she should’ve said, what she wished she’d said, what Luther later, with perfect hindsight, claimed she should’ve said, was “Well, no, honey, we’re not doing the party this year.”
But nothing was clear right then, and Nora said, “Of course we are.”
Luther groaned again. Nora looked at him, the
Similar Books
