Melanie did.
"Good gravy," Paddy commented of the sauce.
"Thank you," Rachel said.
"He sounds like a superhero," Marcus said. "'Good gravy.' Like Superman, isn't it?"
Ev gave him a glance, in response to which Marcus ducked, as if struck. There wasn't anything in the world Marcus would rather avoid than displeasing his father. He behaved in his father's presence like a whipped dog. Rachel hated this about their relationship, perhaps because Marcus did not grant her anywhere near the same power over him.
Rachel had had enough wine by now to feel less upset with the evening. She liked her own cooking, even if her guests didn't, even if Ev wouldn't eat meat, and she knew her working part of the entertaining was done. The bread, a rye with caraway, was particularly good.
Melanie, under duress, had taken a large bite of macaroni and cheese. She said something with it in her mouth, and her mother asked her to wait until her mouth was empty. Instead of swallowing, Melanie removed the food and held it cupped in her hand. "I said, 'It's yucky,'" she said.
Zach, beside her, laughed long and loud. Like Rachel, he enjoyed being amused.
Ev stood, dropping his napkin on the table, and hurried to the kitchen. Rachel waited with everyone else, uncomfortable with his unpredictable impatience. But he returned in a moment with a box of crackers and a jar of peanut butter. "Here, Mel," he told her kindly, kneeling beside her to open the jar.
"I don't want to sit by her," Melanie told Ev, meaning Rachel. "I want to sit by you."
The Limbachs cried out as a team, "Melanie!"
Dinner proceeded in this way, with little or nothing besides Melanie's comfort and preferences being addressed. Rachel had never in her life felt so hostile toward a child. Even Ev, who generally did not coddle, seemed set on making the girl comfortable.
During dessert (whole wheat and carob brownies that Melanie optimistically bit into, then spit out, crying over the nuts), Rachel discovered that Didi was a Mormon. "A little bit Jack Mormon," she admitted, meaning the wine coolers earlier. "But no thanks to the coffee."
"A Jill Mormon," Zach said, grinning at his cleverness. He wasn't generally very quick about such things. "Because she's a girl," he explained.
"We know," said his brother. "We just didn't find it humorous."
"A Mormon?" Rachel said. "I don't think I've ever met a Mormon."
"Well, I'm not really of the church any longer."
"Huh."
"I'm not Mormon," Paddy said. He pulled at his shirt collar. "No long johns, and only one woman." He laughed.
Ev joined the conversation by mentioning that Rachel wasn't Catholic anymore and he wasn't Jewish anymore. "None of us are who we used to be," he said, a line that Rachel decided to remember for later, for review.
"Oh, you're a Jew," Didi said, attaching herself to a topic. "Well, I guess I'd guessed that, the hair and the nose and being a shrink and all."
Rachel watched Ev. His reaction was only a mild pained smile, and Rachel's interest in the disastrous dinner now focused exclusively on her husband. What was it about Paddy Limbach that Ev found compelling? When she looked at Paddy to study him, she discovered him already looking at her, which was oddly disarming. He smiled yet again; perhaps someone had once told him that his teeth were his finest asset, that he should show them as often as possible.
"I've heard that Mormon women only have two career opportunities outside the home," Marcus said, for the first time interested in the conversation. "Nurse or teacher, the helping jobs. Is that right?"
Didi said, "I'm going to teach in a day care. My sisters don't work at all, they take care of their kids."
"How many sisters?" Marcus persisted. "How many kids?"
"Eight, and, let me see..." She rolled her gaze upward to count all her nephews and nieces. "Thirty-two kidsâthirty-three counting Mel here."
"Oh my god!" Marcus said. "Can you believe that, Dad? And that guy, that Brigham Young, he got to the
"Good gravy," Paddy commented of the sauce.
"Thank you," Rachel said.
"He sounds like a superhero," Marcus said. "'Good gravy.' Like Superman, isn't it?"
Ev gave him a glance, in response to which Marcus ducked, as if struck. There wasn't anything in the world Marcus would rather avoid than displeasing his father. He behaved in his father's presence like a whipped dog. Rachel hated this about their relationship, perhaps because Marcus did not grant her anywhere near the same power over him.
Rachel had had enough wine by now to feel less upset with the evening. She liked her own cooking, even if her guests didn't, even if Ev wouldn't eat meat, and she knew her working part of the entertaining was done. The bread, a rye with caraway, was particularly good.
Melanie, under duress, had taken a large bite of macaroni and cheese. She said something with it in her mouth, and her mother asked her to wait until her mouth was empty. Instead of swallowing, Melanie removed the food and held it cupped in her hand. "I said, 'It's yucky,'" she said.
Zach, beside her, laughed long and loud. Like Rachel, he enjoyed being amused.
Ev stood, dropping his napkin on the table, and hurried to the kitchen. Rachel waited with everyone else, uncomfortable with his unpredictable impatience. But he returned in a moment with a box of crackers and a jar of peanut butter. "Here, Mel," he told her kindly, kneeling beside her to open the jar.
"I don't want to sit by her," Melanie told Ev, meaning Rachel. "I want to sit by you."
The Limbachs cried out as a team, "Melanie!"
Dinner proceeded in this way, with little or nothing besides Melanie's comfort and preferences being addressed. Rachel had never in her life felt so hostile toward a child. Even Ev, who generally did not coddle, seemed set on making the girl comfortable.
During dessert (whole wheat and carob brownies that Melanie optimistically bit into, then spit out, crying over the nuts), Rachel discovered that Didi was a Mormon. "A little bit Jack Mormon," she admitted, meaning the wine coolers earlier. "But no thanks to the coffee."
"A Jill Mormon," Zach said, grinning at his cleverness. He wasn't generally very quick about such things. "Because she's a girl," he explained.
"We know," said his brother. "We just didn't find it humorous."
"A Mormon?" Rachel said. "I don't think I've ever met a Mormon."
"Well, I'm not really of the church any longer."
"Huh."
"I'm not Mormon," Paddy said. He pulled at his shirt collar. "No long johns, and only one woman." He laughed.
Ev joined the conversation by mentioning that Rachel wasn't Catholic anymore and he wasn't Jewish anymore. "None of us are who we used to be," he said, a line that Rachel decided to remember for later, for review.
"Oh, you're a Jew," Didi said, attaching herself to a topic. "Well, I guess I'd guessed that, the hair and the nose and being a shrink and all."
Rachel watched Ev. His reaction was only a mild pained smile, and Rachel's interest in the disastrous dinner now focused exclusively on her husband. What was it about Paddy Limbach that Ev found compelling? When she looked at Paddy to study him, she discovered him already looking at her, which was oddly disarming. He smiled yet again; perhaps someone had once told him that his teeth were his finest asset, that he should show them as often as possible.
"I've heard that Mormon women only have two career opportunities outside the home," Marcus said, for the first time interested in the conversation. "Nurse or teacher, the helping jobs. Is that right?"
Didi said, "I'm going to teach in a day care. My sisters don't work at all, they take care of their kids."
"How many sisters?" Marcus persisted. "How many kids?"
"Eight, and, let me see..." She rolled her gaze upward to count all her nephews and nieces. "Thirty-two kidsâthirty-three counting Mel here."
"Oh my god!" Marcus said. "Can you believe that, Dad? And that guy, that Brigham Young, he got to the
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