imagine small animals taking flight in terror every time her grandmother spoke. Germane lay at Langston’s feet with his head on his paws, worried.
“She’s upstairs getting dressed, Grandma. You are quite early.”
“She knew I was coming, didn’t she.”
“Oh, yes. We all did. Can I get you some tea while you’re waiting?”
“No. I’ll wait for your mother.”
Langston allowed her to stew for three minutes or so, a painfully long time to sit in a silent room with someone.
“That’s a lovely suit you’re wearing. Linen, isn’t it?”
Her grandmother held out one arm and admired the cut of her summer jacket. “Yes, yes it is. I bought this suit from Jacob Taylor’s, an excellent women’s clothier, in nineteen and fifty-six. Your grandfather was taken aback by the cost, but I just told him: this suit will outlive
you
. And it certainly has. I store my seasonal clothes in mothballs in my attic and have them dry-cleaned once a year. I still have a number of fine pieces from when I was in high school, if you can imagine.”
“I can imagine.”
“They mostly still fit me, but of course are completely out of style. If you buy fine things and take care of them they’ll last you a lifetime and people will always know you’re that sort of person. What is it you’re wearing, by the way?”
“Oh. Well, this is a white cotton T-shirt made, I believe, by the Gap. An excellent shirt. And these are blue jeans—dungarees, I think they used to be called. I dress very simply, because I read that Albert Einstein owned something like seven white shirts and seven pairs of black pants, and then he never had to think—”
“Where’s your mother?” Grandma Wilkey twisted again and looked at the stairs.
“She’s getting dressed in her room. You’re still quite a bit early.”
“I have a number of things to do today! I have to see John Warden at the bank, and I have an appointment to get my hair done at five-thirty. I can’t just sit here and waste the entire day.”
“Your hair already looks quite nice.” Her hair looked like it belonged on a Mrs. Beasley doll, but Langston would never say so.
“Yes, this is a new rinse. I’m pleased with it.”
“And your jewelry is very becoming today.”
“This is my mother’s strand of pearls and matching earrings. Cultured pearls, of course, none of those freshwater counterfeits everyone is so mad about. Some women won’t wear pearls after Memorial Day but I think that’s ridiculous. If you have them, wear them, I say. There’s never an occasion that can’t be improved with lovely jewelry. I see you still don’t wear jewelry.”
“No, no. I’m not much interested in adornments. Would you like to know why?”
“Where is your mother?” Grandma Wilkey reached up and smoothed her brow with her hands. She still had a manicure once a week in Jonah, and now her fingernails were painted the same color as her pearls. Her hands were lovely, the fingers long and tapered, and Langston could tell that she was accustomed to gesturing in ways that flattered them. A delicate chain hung from her platinum watch. After she had completed her gesture of impatience, she looked Langston in the eye and gave her a pursed-lip smile. Her eyes were even bluer than her hair.
Langston felt like laughing. “Grandma, you are a
beautiful
woman.”
Her grandmother sat up even straighter and smoothed her skirt again. “Well, I try. I’ve done the most with what God gave me and I always say—”
AnnaLee turned the corner of the staircase and made herself available to her mother. She was wearing her favorite housedress, a light brown with yellow flowers that gathered under her ample breasts and hung in folds almost to the floor. It was sleeveless, and her large, tan, muscular arms seemed to go on forever. She was barefoot, and she had gathered her hair up into a twist that was already collapsing. Langston sighed. Her mother held her hand out toward Grandma Wilkey and Langston
“She’s upstairs getting dressed, Grandma. You are quite early.”
“She knew I was coming, didn’t she.”
“Oh, yes. We all did. Can I get you some tea while you’re waiting?”
“No. I’ll wait for your mother.”
Langston allowed her to stew for three minutes or so, a painfully long time to sit in a silent room with someone.
“That’s a lovely suit you’re wearing. Linen, isn’t it?”
Her grandmother held out one arm and admired the cut of her summer jacket. “Yes, yes it is. I bought this suit from Jacob Taylor’s, an excellent women’s clothier, in nineteen and fifty-six. Your grandfather was taken aback by the cost, but I just told him: this suit will outlive
you
. And it certainly has. I store my seasonal clothes in mothballs in my attic and have them dry-cleaned once a year. I still have a number of fine pieces from when I was in high school, if you can imagine.”
“I can imagine.”
“They mostly still fit me, but of course are completely out of style. If you buy fine things and take care of them they’ll last you a lifetime and people will always know you’re that sort of person. What is it you’re wearing, by the way?”
“Oh. Well, this is a white cotton T-shirt made, I believe, by the Gap. An excellent shirt. And these are blue jeans—dungarees, I think they used to be called. I dress very simply, because I read that Albert Einstein owned something like seven white shirts and seven pairs of black pants, and then he never had to think—”
“Where’s your mother?” Grandma Wilkey twisted again and looked at the stairs.
“She’s getting dressed in her room. You’re still quite a bit early.”
“I have a number of things to do today! I have to see John Warden at the bank, and I have an appointment to get my hair done at five-thirty. I can’t just sit here and waste the entire day.”
“Your hair already looks quite nice.” Her hair looked like it belonged on a Mrs. Beasley doll, but Langston would never say so.
“Yes, this is a new rinse. I’m pleased with it.”
“And your jewelry is very becoming today.”
“This is my mother’s strand of pearls and matching earrings. Cultured pearls, of course, none of those freshwater counterfeits everyone is so mad about. Some women won’t wear pearls after Memorial Day but I think that’s ridiculous. If you have them, wear them, I say. There’s never an occasion that can’t be improved with lovely jewelry. I see you still don’t wear jewelry.”
“No, no. I’m not much interested in adornments. Would you like to know why?”
“Where is your mother?” Grandma Wilkey reached up and smoothed her brow with her hands. She still had a manicure once a week in Jonah, and now her fingernails were painted the same color as her pearls. Her hands were lovely, the fingers long and tapered, and Langston could tell that she was accustomed to gesturing in ways that flattered them. A delicate chain hung from her platinum watch. After she had completed her gesture of impatience, she looked Langston in the eye and gave her a pursed-lip smile. Her eyes were even bluer than her hair.
Langston felt like laughing. “Grandma, you are a
beautiful
woman.”
Her grandmother sat up even straighter and smoothed her skirt again. “Well, I try. I’ve done the most with what God gave me and I always say—”
AnnaLee turned the corner of the staircase and made herself available to her mother. She was wearing her favorite housedress, a light brown with yellow flowers that gathered under her ample breasts and hung in folds almost to the floor. It was sleeveless, and her large, tan, muscular arms seemed to go on forever. She was barefoot, and she had gathered her hair up into a twist that was already collapsing. Langston sighed. Her mother held her hand out toward Grandma Wilkey and Langston
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