.
I couldn't help feeling nervous before I went to
Grandma Olivia's for lunch on Saturday. I was always jittery whenever I was around her, but it seemed to me she made everyone stand or sit on pins and needles. The only one who appeared at all at ease in her presence was Judge Childs. Even Grandpa Samuel looked uncomfortable most of the time. I winced at the way she dished out biting criticism of him and the things he did. She talked down to him as if he were an insignificant or unintelligent person. I wondered why he tolerated it, and I couldn't imagine the two of them, younger, falling in love.
Nowadays, Grandpa Samuel wore his marriage as if it were a shoe two sizes too small. From what Cary told me and from what I had observed on other occasions, Grandpa Samuel spent as much time as he could away from home, even though he was retired. He played cards with his old friends a few nights a week, never turning down an opportunity to go somewhere in the evening if and when he was invited. Cary said Grandpa regretted retirement and had only stopped working because Grandma Olivia thought it looked as if they needed money if he continued to go to work year after year. During the day he was often down at the docks talking with fishermen and boatmen.
But Grand
ma Olivia would never permit him to miss one of her formal luncheons on Saturday. Usually, from what I understood, she invited someone of importance from Provincetown or the surrounding area. Political candidates, wealthy business people, even from as far away as Boston, were honored by her invitations and attended.
Grandma Olivia's driver Raymond was a man in his mid sixties, and what people in Provincetown called a Brava, half Negro, half Portuguese. He was one of Roy Patterson's uncles. Roy worked for Uncle Jacob and Roy's daughter Theresa was in my class at school. Everyone knew everyone else here, whether they socialized with each other or not.
Raymond came for me in Grandma and Grandpa Logan's vintage Rolls Royce. It was a partly cloudy day with just enough of a breeze to lift the sand and send it across the road in waves to salt the pavement. The sea air was crisp and fresh like the morning after the first snow in West Virginia. The clouds were the soft, marshmallow type, puffy, large, lazily drifting across the blue. It was a perfect day for an afternoon social affair.
I should have felt like some little princess in the back of the Rolls, sitting on the spotless leather, having a driver open and close doors for me and drive me up to the Logan compound, as it was known. Cary had long since left to work with Uncle Jacob by the time the limousine arrived. I was glad, because I knew he would tease me about it. Uncle Jacob only took Sundays off, and sometimes, not even the entire day. I felt sorry for May, who stood in the doorway watching me get into the limousine. She looked like a sad little rag doll gently waving good-bye. Why couldn't Grandma Olivia have invited her? I wondered. I asked Aunt Sara before I left.
"I don't know, dear," she replied. "Maybe she just wants to spend more time with you or introduce you to important people. But don't worry about May. She'll be fine with me. I'm going to take her in to town for lunch and some shopping."
Still, I thought it was a bitter pill for a little girl to have to swallow. How could a grandmother be so insensitive, especially to a grandchild like May who needed extra care and affection? It put tears in my eyes and washed away any joy or excitement I could have felt going to the luncheon in this plush automobile.
When I arrived, I found only Grandma Olivia, Grandpa Samuel, and Judge Childs sitting on the rear patio. As usual, whenever Grandma Olivia had company, she had servants. A maid was offering them hors d'oeuvres and glasses of champagne. They all turned as I stepped through the doorway.
Even seated, Grandma Olivia had a way of rising beyond her actual height. She stood only a little more than five foot four in her stocking feet, but because of the manner in which she carried herself and the way she sat regally in chairs and somehow managed to gaze down at people (even those who stood a foot taller), she presented a firmer, stronger appearance. As usual, her snow white hair was pulled back in a bun as severely as Aunt Sara's, with a pearl studded comb at the crown. Sometime after I had first met Grandma Olivia, I realized the reason Aunt Sara wore her hair that way was because it was the way Grandma Olivia wore hers. Whether she did it simply to please Uncle Jacob or because she believed everything Grandma Olivia did was, as Mama Arlene would say, "The cat's meow," I don't know, but she did it.
The tiny age spots clustered at Grandma Olivia's hair line and on her cheeks looked more like freckles in the sunlight. Today, she wore a little blush on her cheeks. It was about the only makeup I ever saw on her. She had small features, her mouth just the width of her chin. Under her jaw, her skin hung loosely like a hen's, but her collarbone stood out prominently beneath her nearly transparent
complexion. Tiny veins crisscrossed her temples. I was sure that when she gazed at herself in the mirror and saw the illusory azure fluid running through her, she was further convinced she was a true blue-blood.
Today she wore an ivory cotton dress with frilled sleeves and a frilled hem. It had tiny pearls sewn onto the collar and down between her breasts. She had an elegant gold bracelet spotted with diamonds on her right wrist and a small gold watch she must have worn just for show. The hands and numbers were so tiny I couldn't imagine how she could read the time.
Despite her temperament, Grandma Olivia's skin was smoother than the skin of most women her age, her perpetual frowns had not put any wrinkles in her face. Her hands were graceful, the knuckles a bit bony with some age spots across them, but the skin wasn't crinkled. I was willing to bet she had never washed a dish or ironed an article of clothing in her life.
Grandpa Samuel looked dapper in his light blue sports jacket and matching slacks. He wore a pair of polished white loafers and bright blue socks. Grandpa Samuel's hair was mostly gray, but he still had a remarkably full and healthy looking head of it. It was trimmed neatly at the ears and sides with the top brushed back. There was a trace of a wave running through it. His green eyes brightened at the sight of me and he relaxed his lips into a soft smile.
Judge Childs held a cigar in his right hand, a glass of champagne in his left, his big diamond pinky ring glittering in the sunlight. Ever since I had begun thinking that Kenneth Childs might be my real father.
I looked at the judge with a great deal more interest each time I saw him. After all, I thought, this man could be my grandfather.
The judge was a distinguished looking, elderly man with gray hair still showing some of its original light brown color. He wore it neatly trimmed and parted on the right side. He dressed more
conservatively than Grandpa Samuel, wearing a charcoal jacket and pants, a bow tie, and black shoes and socks. I had seen pictures of Kenneth's mother in Kenneth's home. She was a very attractive woman with dark brown hair, but there was no question in my mind that Kenneth took after his father and had the same shape nose and chin. Kenneth's eyes were a darker brown, but the judge's eyes always seemed to darken when he gazed at me.
"Well, the guest of honor has arrived," the judge said. Both he and Grandpa Samuel rose, each bowing slightly. It brought a smile to my lips. I felt as if I had walked into a scene from Gone with the Wind.
I looked at Grandma Olivia and then at the rear of the house. There were no other guests, no elaborate setup of tables, tents, and chairs. Was I really the guest of honor?
"Good afternoon, Grandma Olivia," I said. "I always liked that dress on Laura," she replied instead of greeting me. The way she said it made me feel as if I was a poor relation dressed in a hand-medown.
"You look very nice, Melody," Grandpa Samuel said, nodding. "Come sit here," he said, patting the cushioned lawn chair beside him.
"Just like Samuel to want to sit next to the pretty lady," the judge said.
"You're just jealous because I invited her first," Grandpa said.
"Don't the two of you start acting like idiotic school boys," Grandma Olivia warned. "Sit where you want," she told me. I sat next to Grandpa Samuel, who beamed a smile back at the judge.
"Now here's a young woman with some taste," he said, making the judge laugh.