"It
is
sugar. Your dental bills will be higher than usual. But what the heck; it was nice of him to think of you. Dig in."
"Mom," asked Caroline, "did you say he went back in and got these? After you had already left the restaurant?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Well, ah, did you go back in with him? Or did you wait outside? Did you
see
the restaurant people putting these in the bag?"
Her mother looked at her, puzzled. "I waited outside. I was reading the menu pasted on the window. I was wondering if I should have ordered the spaghetti with clam sauce. I
liked
the spaghetti with sausage and mushrooms, but the clam sauce looked so good. The people at the next table had it. Next time,
I thinkâ
Why,
Caroline? Why did you ask that?"
"Oh," said Caroline vaguely, staring at the cannolis, "I was just thinking that it really isn't safe for a woman to stand around alone on the sidewalk in New York late at night. You should have gone back in with him."
"Caroline, you're becoming downright paranoid. You call and ask if I have the door locked, and youâWhy aren't you guys eating those cannolis?" Joanna Tate looked from Caroline to J.P. and back to Caroline again. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," said Caroline hastily. "They really look like great cannolis. I've never seen them with quite that much sugar on top before."
"Yeah," said J.P. "All that sugar. Yum." He sniffed the cannolis again. He looked at Caroline and raised one eyebrow.
"I'm going to go put my bathrobe on," said their mother. "After you eat those, maybe you could repair the television, J.P.? And we could watch the news?"
She went into the bathroom and closed the door.
"Quick," cried Caroline to her brother. "Get the other galosh."
When their mother came out of the bathroom, wearing her blue quilted robe and with her make-up removed, J.P. was kneeling in front of the TV, working on the dials with a screwdriver. "Almost fixed," he announced.
Caroline was sprawled on the couch, licking her
lips ostentatiously. The coffee table was empty. "Those sure were great cannolis," she said.
Inside the closet, behind the vacuum cleaner, both galoshes were buckled up tight and bulging with evidence.
12
"I wish we had a dining room," groaned Caroline early Sunday afternoon. "You should see the Baurichters' dining room. It has thick carpeting and a crystal chandelier and bouquets of fresh flowers everywhere. And silver candlesticks on the table." She looked at their own kitchen table, with its yellow Formica top. "Look at this table. Blecchhh. I wish we didn't have to eat in the kitchen when we have company."
Joanna Tate turned from the sink, where she was washing lettuce, and surveyed the table and Caroline standing beside it, looking depressed. "Well," she suggested, "how about if we move the table into the living room? If we shove the blue wing chair over, it would fit there. Then we could cover it with a tablecloth. And I do have candles. I don't have silver candlesticks, but we can put the candles inâlet me think.
Here. We can put the candles in these two little juice glasses. How about that?"
She handed Caroline two small glasses that had once had pineapples painted on them. The pineapples were mostly scrubbed away. Caroline stood two yellow candles in the glasses, and brightened. "Yeah," she said. "If I squish them down in hot wax, they'll stand up okay. Thanks. And yesâlet's move the table into the living room. That's a neat idea."
They each took an end and maneuvered the table legs around the kitchen door and into the living room. Caroline shoved the blue chair into a corner, and she and her mother dragged the table to its new spot.
J.P. opened his bedroom door and peered out, frowning. "All that thumping and crashing is messing up my electronic work," he complained. He looked at the table. "What are you guys doing? You're not going to wax the kitchen floor again, are you? You waxed it last year."
"Nope," said his mother. "We're going to dine graciously
is
sugar. Your dental bills will be higher than usual. But what the heck; it was nice of him to think of you. Dig in."
"Mom," asked Caroline, "did you say he went back in and got these? After you had already left the restaurant?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Well, ah, did you go back in with him? Or did you wait outside? Did you
see
the restaurant people putting these in the bag?"
Her mother looked at her, puzzled. "I waited outside. I was reading the menu pasted on the window. I was wondering if I should have ordered the spaghetti with clam sauce. I
liked
the spaghetti with sausage and mushrooms, but the clam sauce looked so good. The people at the next table had it. Next time,
I thinkâ
Why,
Caroline? Why did you ask that?"
"Oh," said Caroline vaguely, staring at the cannolis, "I was just thinking that it really isn't safe for a woman to stand around alone on the sidewalk in New York late at night. You should have gone back in with him."
"Caroline, you're becoming downright paranoid. You call and ask if I have the door locked, and youâWhy aren't you guys eating those cannolis?" Joanna Tate looked from Caroline to J.P. and back to Caroline again. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," said Caroline hastily. "They really look like great cannolis. I've never seen them with quite that much sugar on top before."
"Yeah," said J.P. "All that sugar. Yum." He sniffed the cannolis again. He looked at Caroline and raised one eyebrow.
"I'm going to go put my bathrobe on," said their mother. "After you eat those, maybe you could repair the television, J.P.? And we could watch the news?"
She went into the bathroom and closed the door.
"Quick," cried Caroline to her brother. "Get the other galosh."
When their mother came out of the bathroom, wearing her blue quilted robe and with her make-up removed, J.P. was kneeling in front of the TV, working on the dials with a screwdriver. "Almost fixed," he announced.
Caroline was sprawled on the couch, licking her
lips ostentatiously. The coffee table was empty. "Those sure were great cannolis," she said.
Inside the closet, behind the vacuum cleaner, both galoshes were buckled up tight and bulging with evidence.
12
"I wish we had a dining room," groaned Caroline early Sunday afternoon. "You should see the Baurichters' dining room. It has thick carpeting and a crystal chandelier and bouquets of fresh flowers everywhere. And silver candlesticks on the table." She looked at their own kitchen table, with its yellow Formica top. "Look at this table. Blecchhh. I wish we didn't have to eat in the kitchen when we have company."
Joanna Tate turned from the sink, where she was washing lettuce, and surveyed the table and Caroline standing beside it, looking depressed. "Well," she suggested, "how about if we move the table into the living room? If we shove the blue wing chair over, it would fit there. Then we could cover it with a tablecloth. And I do have candles. I don't have silver candlesticks, but we can put the candles inâlet me think.
Here. We can put the candles in these two little juice glasses. How about that?"
She handed Caroline two small glasses that had once had pineapples painted on them. The pineapples were mostly scrubbed away. Caroline stood two yellow candles in the glasses, and brightened. "Yeah," she said. "If I squish them down in hot wax, they'll stand up okay. Thanks. And yesâlet's move the table into the living room. That's a neat idea."
They each took an end and maneuvered the table legs around the kitchen door and into the living room. Caroline shoved the blue chair into a corner, and she and her mother dragged the table to its new spot.
J.P. opened his bedroom door and peered out, frowning. "All that thumping and crashing is messing up my electronic work," he complained. He looked at the table. "What are you guys doing? You're not going to wax the kitchen floor again, are you? You waxed it last year."
"Nope," said his mother. "We're going to dine graciously
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