The maid brought the tray of hors d'oeuvres to me and I choose one and took a napkin. It was shrimp in a pastry shell and it was absolutely delicious.
"Please get her some lemonade," Grandma Olivia told the maid. She nodded and hurried out.
"What's going on at Jacob's house?" Grandpa Samuel asked.
"Cary and Uncle Jacob are working. May and Aunt Sara are going to town."
"I hate going to town during the season," Grandma Olivia remarked. "It's too crowded on those narrow streets with all those tourists gawking into store windows. I don't know why she drags that disabled child all about like that," she added looking at me as if I had the answer. I did.
"Aunt Sara is just trying to keep May occupied," I said pointedly "She was all alone when I left."
"Yes," Grandpa said nodding. "I guess you could have invited Sara and the child, Olivia," he told her.
"Don't tell me who to invite and who not to, Samuel Logan," she snapped. He stared at her a moment, his eyes cold and sharp but quickly warming as he folded his face into a smile again.
"Did you hear that whip snap, Judge?"
When the judge didn't respond immediately, I gazed at him and saw he was staring intently at me.
"What's that? A whip? Oh, yes, yes," he said laughing. "Well, I warned you, Samuel. Years and years ago, I warned you about the Gordons."
"You have that backwards," Grandma Olivia said. "Everyone in Provincetown warned me about the Logans."
The judge roared and sipped some champagne. He and Grandma Olivia exchanged furtive glances.
"I understand you are working for Kenneth," Grandma Olivia said, turning back to me. "How has that been going?"
"It's been fine, thank you."
"My son hasn't been too hard a boss then?" the judge asked quickly. "You're not bored out there in no-man's-land?"
"No. Actually, I'm learning a great deal about art."
"You're artistic too?" he followed.
"No, sir."
"She's musically inclined. Didn't you hear her play at the variety show?" Grandpa Samuel asked.
"Oh, I know she's musically inclined, but some people have a variety of talents."
"And some have none," Grandma Olivia inserted, her eyes fixed on Grandpa Samuel. "Except when it comes to putting their foot in their mouth. Grandpa Samuel looked uncomfortable and shifted his weight in his chair. Then he cleared his throat.
I didn't like the nasty tone of voice Grandma Olivia used, but I couldn't help being in awe of her strength and power. From what well did she draw it? I wondered. Where did she get such confidence, such self-assurance? I didn't like her, but I couldn't help wanting to learn something from her. She was living proof that women could be tough and strong when need be, and someday, someday soon, I too would need to find that strength.
"What's Kenneth have you doing there?" the judge asked.
"I help straighten up his home, make lunch, prepare his supplies, keep his studio in order, do odd jobs, take care of Ulysses. He showed me how to prepare the clay he uses for vases and small statues."
"Whatever he pays you to straighten up that home of his it can't be enough. He barely makes enough on that art work of his to feed the dog," the judge quipped.
"He doesn't believe an artist should be obsessed with making money," I offered and immediately regretted it, because they all looked at me as if I had said something blasphemous.
"Apparently, you've gotten to know him well already," the judge said after a moment of deep silence.
"No, not really," I replied. "We're just getting to know each other."
"Did he tell you he used to practically live here?" Grandpa Samuel asked with a wide smile. "I had to wash him off the welcome mat most of the time."