What's for Dinner? by James Schuyler (diy ebook reader txt) 📗

tired of being shut up in here. I need fresh air, too.”

“All in good time,” Dr Kearney said. “I understood you to say in our conference that if you went out you would take a bus straight back to your house.”

“I wouldn’t now. Sam would just bring me back to the hospital. I guess if these other grouches can stick it out, I can too.”

“Would you like to have grounds privileges tomorrow?” Dr Kearney said.

“Nobody would go with me,” Mrs Judson said, “and you’re not allowed out alone.” This was greeted by a massive protest of willingness to accompany Mrs Judson on her first stroll.

Even Mr Mulwin said, “I’d go with you, if I had grounds privileges and wasn’t so damn sleepy. First they knock you out, then they tell you to stay awake when there’s nothing to stay awake about.”

“You may have privileges sooner than you think,” Dr Kearney said.

“Probably it will rain,” Mr Mulwin said.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Lottie said. “I quite enjoy a walk in the rain—not in a downpour, of course.”

“I haven’t got my rain hat here,” Mr Mulwin said. “It’s at home.”

“I’ll drop it off tomorrow, Greg,” Mrs Mulwin said, “on my way to the store.”

“Are you a partner in your husband’s business?” Norris asked.

“No, but I’m keeping an eye on things for him while he’s here. I’m a licensed pharmacist—that was how we met. Greg used to be my employer.”

“Now she’s the boss,” Mr Mulwin said good-naturedly.

Chapter VIII

1

“Why look who’s here,” Biddy said to Maureen, who was wheeling a cart down an aisle of the supermarket.

“Hi, you two,” Mag Carpenter said. “Now my secret is out,” she said, regarding her own cart. “I like a glass of beer as a nightcap.”

“I wouldn’t mind that myself,” Maureen said, “but with my girth, I don’t dare to tackle beer.”

“Maureen,” Biddy said, “makes a delicious dish of shrimps cooked in beer. All the alcohol cooks out—otherwise I wouldn’t set lip to it.”

“Mercy,” Mag said, “what a quantity of groceries you do have to buy. Those growing boys! So far, I’ve held off from the temptation of frozen dinners. Though cooking for one seems a little silly, it takes a bit more time, and I don’t like the idea of slipping into sloppy habits. I make a point of keeping to the schedule Bartram and I evolved over the years.”

“Yes,” Biddy said, “that’s the way. Keep going straight ahead. When I get up and put the kettle on every morning, it may seem I’m doing it for the family, but really I’m just following the habit I formed for my late lamented and my own family. Though if it gives Maureen and Bryan a couple of extra minutes in bed, I’m glad. My time is pretty much my own, and my days don’t run me ragged the way they do them. Those two boys alone are a handful. I’m glad I don’t have the bringing up of them; though at times I try to pour a little oil on troubled waters.”

Maureen laughed heartily. “Biddy, I don’t know where I’d be without you. You help out in hundreds of ways, always making a pie or a nice frosted cake. Our desserts are almost exclusively her province,” she added to Mag.

“And you have the figure of a young woman!” Mag said, and blushed, as she inadvertently glanced at Maureen’s ample form.

“Have you heard the news? About Lottie?” Maureen asked.

“Why no. I’ve been meaning to visit her again, but I get stuck in my own little rut. What’s the news? Is she much better?”

“Better enough that she’s to have a weekend pass, I think they call it, and come back to her own home for two days. Norris must be in seventh heaven—no bachelor, he.”

“Now isn’t that marvelous! Isn’t that wonderful! I can’t think of any news I’d rather hear.”

“I should think,” Maureen said, “that it must mean the end of her stay there is well in sight. She’s a good neighbor—I’ve missed her.”

“Oh, Mary Charlotte Taylor is one in a million,” Mag said. “I don’t know how the garden club could get along without her. I wonder if she’ll go out to cocktail parties? I suppose so. It’s probably one of the things they teach them in there: how to say, ‘No, thank you’ and ask for a ginger ale or something like that.”

“Doubtless,” Maureen said, “though I don’t think I’ll welcome her home with a cocktail party in her honor.”

“Don’t mind me,” Mag said, “I’m such a rattle, I simply can’t help looking on all sides of a question. Not that Lottie’s a question. When I have them to dinner, I suppose I’ll have to forego my little glass of sherry—or would that be rude to Norris? I guess I’ll play it by ear and cross the bridge when I come to it.”

“Bryan has a business acquaintance in A.A. and he urges other people to drink. I mean, if they normally drink, then go ahead and drink. He says it doesn’t bother him at all. I suppose he feels a surge of confidence when he finds he can go without it.”

“Giving things up is very good for building character,” Biddy said.

“How true,” Mag said. “And now I must be trundling on—fun running into you like this. We must see more of each other.”

Purchases paid for, Mag went home and had hysterics, while the two Mrs Delahanteys returned more calmly to their own dwelling.

2

“This room is simply a clutter,” Lottie said. It was a Saturday afternoon and she was seated in her chair: Norris in his. They were drinking after lunch coffee. She frowned. “Perhaps we should weed it out? Though I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Deirdre came and laid her head on Lottie’s lap. The latter’s return had been greeted by a fine salvo of barks and shaking of heavy hind quarters.

“In principle,” Norris said, “I agree. But piece by piece I find each has associations I wouldn’t care to lose. Aunt Rosie’s