Time Windows by Kathryn Reiss Page B

before her."
    "That's enough. The subject is closed. Dorothy will have the same food for breakfast as you and I do."
    Lucinda pulled herself up majestically. "Mister Galworthy," she began bitingly, "you have already deprived me of my staff. If I'm in charge of the house, then I shall run it
my
way. If you don't like the way things are run here"—her voice rose dramatically—"then you might think about living elsewhere!"
    Sigmund faced her, calmly. "That is enough shouting." His voice was soft, but as icy as her own. Dorothy edged behind her father. "I shall take Dorothy up to bed myself, Lucinda, and I will thank you to retire immediately. You will kindly remember that in this house you do not raise your voice to me. Is that clear?"
    Lucinda glared at him. "Perhaps you would like
me
to live elsewhere?"
    "Don't be absurd. You are my wife. Now go up to bed. I'm sick and tired of your theatrics."
    She leveled a bitter stare at him and swung on her heel, leaving the room. Dorothy began to whimper, holding onto her father's leg. Sigmund picked her up and held her tightly against him for a moment. Then he set her down.
    "There, there, little mouse. Mama and Daddy are just a little angry now, but everything will be better tomorrow. Come on, now. I'll take you up to Hannah." He reached for her hand.
    Dorothy hung back. Her eyes were dark and clouded. Sigmund smiled down at her and touched the tip of her pert nose with a long finger. He reached for a braid and tugged it. "Someday I'm going to cut off one of these and use it for a paintbrush, old girl. What do you say to that?"
    Miranda smiled at this weak attempt to cheer up the little girl, but Dorothy wrapped her arms around him fiercely. "Daddy," she murmured, "is Mama going away?"
    "Your Mama is just upset tonight, sweetheart. She's not leaving."
    She hugged him more tightly. "But Daddy, don't
you
ever go away!"
    "No one is going away, darling."
    She pushed her face into his lap. When she spoke again, her voice was muffled. "Daddy, promise? Daddy—will you be here when I wake up?"
    Sigmund rested his hand on her soft hair and gazed at the flames for a long moment without seeming to see them. Then, "Yes," he said. "Yes, Mouse. I'll be here. Always."
    Â 
    Miranda closed her eyes. This had already happened. But when? Where?
    When she opened her eyes again, the Galworthys' living room was empty. Dorothy's sad little question hung in the air. "Will you be here when I wake up?"
    Where had Miranda heard that before?
    It hit her suddenly. Of course! Timmy Kramer had asked his parents that question, the night Iris tried to hit him with a lamp. In fact, hadn't she herself asked her parents that same thing only a week or two ago? She remembered feeling silly after asking it, because of course her parents would be there in the morning. Why had she asked the question at all?
    Miranda sat back on her heels. An idea was beginning to form in her head. What if—what if she and Timmy had only asked the question because Dorothy asked it years earlier? Could that be?
    Miranda shivered in the warm attic. Watching through the dollhouse windows was natural to her now. But the past was past. It had to be. The thought that the lives of prior occupants of the house could touch her own, however briefly, struck chords of fear in Miranda.
    The Kramers certainly seemed ordinary enough. But the Galworthys, Sigmund and Lucinda, were weird. Miranda didn't quite understand what the trouble was. It sounded as if Lucinda wanted a career and Sigmund said she couldn't have one—what a chauvinist! But it also sounded as if Lucinda was a pretty bad mother. Imagine trying to force a little girl to eat leftover tomatoes, which made her sick, for breakfast if she left them on her plate at dinner! That was plain cruelty. Not that Miranda herself had anything against tomatoes, but if, for instance, the food had been liver—
    Wait a minute.
Tomatoes?
Hadn't Helen said something odd about tomatoes