"Grandma . . ."
She continued to stare after Mr. Mandel.
"It's no use, Melody," Cary said. "She's not going to remember. You're just wasting time and facing more disappointment."
"But she is all I have left, Cary. I have no other family," I moaned.
"You've got me," he said emphatically.
"I thought she'd remember," I said, gazing at her wistfully. "I thought we'd have some time together, but obviously Grandma Olivia made sure we wouldn't," I added. "She came up here and confused her. She did it deliberately."
"Let's go, Melody."
"She's jealous of everything, even the fragile relationship I was building with my grandmother. She just came bursting in here and swept it all away."
"Melody, you're getting yourself all worked up. Come on," he urged.
"Do me a favor," Grandma Belinda said when I stood up. "Just go over there and ask Mr. Mandel to come back. Tell him I need him right away."
"He'll come back to you, Grandma," I said. "You're much prettier than she is."
"I am?" She brightened again and nodded. "Yes, I am much prettier, aren't I?" she agreed, brushing the sides of her hair with her palms. "He'll see that. She's got that mole on her chin with tiny hairs. I don't even have many wrinkles, do I?" She turned to us, raising her face to the sunlight, her eyes closed, her lips pursed like a young flirt.
"No, Grandma, you don't," I said and touched her cheek. She opened her eyes and gazed up at me.
"You look like an angel now," she said. "Your mother must be very proud of you."
"She is," Cary said quickly. "Very proud."
"That's nice. That's the way it should be."
She turned back to glare in Mr. Mandel's direction. Cary tugged my hand and I stood up beside him. "She'll be all right," he said.
"You're right," I said. I leaned over and gave her a kiss on her cheek, but she didn't notice. Her gaze was locked on Mr. Mandel. "Bye Grandma. I'll come back. I promise."
"Don't forget the cookies," she called as we started away. I looked back at her once before we left the garden. Mr. Mandel had left the other woman and was hobbling down the path toward her and she looked very contented, very happy.
"Maybe it's time you started thinking more about yourself, about us," Cary said as we left the rest home. "Maybe it's time we both looked to the future and not to the past, huh?"
"Maybe," I agreed, but I wasn't as confident as he was that the past would let us do that.
I said nothing to Grandma Olivia about her visit to the rest home. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had once again gotten her way. When she asked about my visit, I said it was fine and left it at that. If I was Jo survive in her world, I had to learn to play the game her way. For the time being, I would pretend to be the young woman she wanted me to be.
The next day, as Grandma Olivia had promised, Miss Burton arrived at the house to begin my education in etiquette, making me feel from the start that I wasn't much better than some hick who had just arrived on these precious Cape Cod shores. I was sure it was how Grandma Olivia had described me to her.
She called me down to the parlor and
introduced me.
"Miss Burton, I'd like you to meet my granddaughter, Melody," Grandma Olivia said, and I looked at the tall, thin woman who stood so straight, I thought she had a steel rod for a spine. She had very small shoulders, the bones of which pressed up sharply against the dark blue cotton dress that hung over her body in a straight line. Its hem reached her ankles and it was buttoned at the collar.
Miss Burton said nothing but held out her hand.
"Hi," I offered, shook her hand quickly, backed away and looked at Grandma Olivia, whose head bobbed slightly in approval.
"Until school begins, Miss Burton will meet with you promptly at nine A.M. each weekday morning. After school begins, you will arrange your schedules accordingly."
"For how long?" I asked.
"For as long as it takes to turn you into a lady," Grandma Olivia replied curtly.
"I think I am a lady," I returned. Grandma Olivia grinned coldly and looked at Miss Burton.
"As you see, you have a real challenge here, Louise." "I'm sure we'll do what we can," Miss Burton said, still scrutinizing me intently.
"Then I'll leave you to begin. I know you need all the time allotted for your lesson. And then some," Grandma added and walked out of the parlor. For a moment Miss Burton and I just looked at each other, sizing each other up like two combatants. Then she cleared her throat and took a step toward me as if someone had given her a shove from behind.
"I can help you only if you want to be helped," she said grimly.
"I don't think I need to be helped," I replied honestly, since she wanted to be frank.
"Oh, my dear," she said smiling and shaking her head, "you most definitely need to be helped."
"Really?" I said dryly. "And how can you tell so quickly, or are you basing everything on what my grandmother has told you about me?"
"I make my own evaluations of people. Let's simply begin with your entrance this morning. Mrs. Logan introduced you properly to me. A young person is always introduced to an older person, but you don't say 'Hi.' The very least you say, is simply 'Hello.' This is acceptable in any situation except, of course, after a very formal introduction. We had a somewhat formal introduction. You should have said, 'Hello, Miss Burton, I'm glad to meet you,' or 'How do you do, Miss Burton.' Furthermore, a formal verbal greeting should be accompanied by direct eye contact, which indicates that you are actually paying attention to the person you are acknowledging. You let your eyes wander to Mrs. Logan, the room, me, Mrs. Logan, back to me again," she lectured. "Should I continue?" she asked.
"I guess," I said, feeling a tight knot form in my stomach.
"An older person extends his or her hand first to a younger one, as I just did, but you don't take someone's hand limply as if yours is boneless or as if you're grasping an empty glove. Of course, you don't squeeze too hard, but you should be firm and you should look the person directly in the eyes when you shake.
"Next," she continued without skipping a beat, "is your dreadful posture. A person who stands erect and sits erect looks best, looks confident, looks like someone of worth. Rounded shoulders, slouching, folding your arms across your body as you are now doing . . . all this shows your sloppiness and lack of refinement immediately. Your shoulders should be back, chin in and slightly up, abdomen and stomach in, back straight and knees relaxed. You may keep your arms at your sides, relaxed, as well. Now, let me see you take that seat," she said nodding toward the overstuffed chair to my left.
I eyed it like a challenge of great proportions, positive that whatever I did would be wrong. Nevertheless, I stepped up to the chair, turned, looked directly at her and sat. She laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"You don't really sit like that. You would never be so stiff, nor do you flop into a chair. Sit softly and keep your knees together," she added, nodding at my legs. "The only people who want a view of your undergarments are degenerates. You should sit a bit sideways to keep from sprawling into the chair."
"These pillows are so soft that I--"
"More reason to be aware of your posture and how you appear to others in the room."
"I don't think I look especially sloppy," I protested.
"You don't look sloppy, but you don't look like a young woman of refinement, a woman of quality, stature, a woman who would attract someone of like ilk," she insisted. "You are part of a very
distinguished family now. You have a responsibility to be distinguished yourself, and sitting in a chair with your knees wide enough apart to drive a truck between them, slouching when you stand, moving in jerky motions, gawking, all of that makes you look more like someone brought up by uneducated, unsophisticated people of low quality."
"That's not true. I was brought up by good people, decent people who cared about other people and--"
&nbs
p; "Then why don't you try to make them proud of you, proud of what you can become and proud of who you now are?" she retorted before I could continue my protest.
I swallowed back my pride and indignation.
"I will be only as good a teacher as you permit me to be and you will be only as good a student as you allow yourself to be. Shall we begin or for the next hour would you rather we debate whether you need my help or not?" she asked firmly, never relaxing her proper posture or letting any warmth into her cold brown eyes.
"I'll try," I finally said, breathing deeply, determined not to cry.
"Good. Then let's begin. Walk out and walk in again, pretending we are meeting for the first time. Keep thinking about your posture as you enter the room."
I rose and left the parlor. For a moment I was tempted to rush out the front door. Then I gazed down the corridor and saw Grandma Olivia watching me. I knew the satisfaction she would get from seeing me flee. She would just nod and say she knew I didn't have it in me to rise to her level. Furious at the thought of her ridicule, I pulled back my shoulders, held my head high, and returned to the parlor.
Miss Burton offered her hand and I shook it firmly and said, "Hello, Miss Burton. I'm pleased to meet you."
She smiled and nodded toward the chair. I sat as she had instructed and placed my hands in my lap.
"Very good," she said. "We'll make a lady of you yet."
"I think being a lady comes from more than knowing how to say hello," I told her.
"Of course it does my dear. The guiding principle of etiquette is thoughtfulness. There are ten commandments of everyday behavior. Never," she began, wagging her long, thin and bony forefinger at me, "talk only about yourself, never gossip, never ask personal questions or pry, never intentionally embarrass anyone, never stare or point at someone, never chew gum with an open mouth or snap it, or make bubbles, never display affection in public," she said, pausing for breath. "From what I understand, that's a commandment you young people today violate often."
"I don't," I protested.
She shook her head.
"You must become your own best critic and to do that, you must not lie, especially to yourself. That's what happens when you lie to others; you end up lying to yourself."
"But --"
"Didn't you kiss someone right out here in this driveway recently?" she asked.
I sat, my mouth agape. Grandma Olivia told her about my kissing Cary?
"Don't keep your mouth open like that. It's not only impolite, it's unbecoming."
"Kissing in public is showing affection, wouldn't you agree? Let's move on," she said standing. "Today we want to concentrate on eating."
"Eating?"
"Mealtime manners, my dear. Please, follow me to the dining room."
I rose and started toward the door.
"Always permit the older person to leave first," she instructed. Embarassed, I stopped and allowed her to walk out first. "Please, come along," she said. "There is no need to wait that long behind me."
I shook my head and followed her to the dining room, feeling like a puppy being housebroken. As we passed the stairway, I noticed Loretta standing in the shadows, gazing down at me. Her face was shrouded in the gloom, and I could only wonder whether Loretta would turn out to be my only friend in this cold and heartless home. Or would she, too, prove to be another of Grandma Olivia's minions, too frightened to do anything but her bidding?
If only I knew I could trust Loretta, I would reach out to her and tell her to watch closely, I was about to beat Grandma Olivia at her own game.
My first opportunity came at dinner that night. As I headed toward the dining room, I heard voices in the parlor and paused by the doorway in time to hear Grandma Olivia say, "He's become impossible, a blithering idiot. I can't permit him to be seen in public anymore. I want you to call in some favors and put him at the head of the list, Nelson."
"But I thought the doctor said that might only exacerbate his condition," Judge Childs replied.
"What about my condition? Don't you think it's been more than exacerbating for me?"
I stepped forward and the Judge saw me.
"Oh, Melody!" he exclaimed getting up to greet me.
I held out my hand the way Miss Burton had instructed, standing erect and holding out my arm fairly stiffly to prevent him from embracing me. I was uncomfortable with him showing me any affection in front of Grandma Olivia. I knew that if she suspected the relationship I was developing with my grandfather she would destroy it as quickly as she had my fragile bond with Grandma Belinda.
"Good evening, Judge Childs," I said. "It's nice to see you again."
He paused as if struck dumb for a moment and then smiled and took my hand for a very quick greeting, glancing at Grandma Olivia as he did so. She nodded approvingly.
"I'm happy to see you've come back."
"Thank you," I said with a tight smile, hoping he would go along with my ploy.
"Er . . . we were just . . . relaxing before dinner," he explained with some awkwardness.
He looked as dapper as ever, albeit a little older, grayer, his face a bit thinner. He wore a navy sports jacket and khaki pants, a striped cravat tied loosely around his neck.
"Isn't Grandpa Samuel coming to dinner?" I asked. "I haven't seen him all day."
"No," Grandma Olivia said sharply. "His condition is worse. The doctor will be seeing him in the morning."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked, wishing I could will Grandpa Samuel well again.
"There is nothing any of us can do," she replied dryly. Just then, Loretta came to the doorway, and with a small curtsey announced dinner was ready.
"Finally," Grandma said, rising. Judge Childs held out his arm to 11er and she took it quickly, the both of them heading for the doorway. I stepped aside to let them leave first and then quickly followed them down the corridor.
"You must tell me about your trip West," the Judge said when we were all sitting at the table. "Perhaps you can come by one day to visit," he added, after throwing a nervous glance at Grandma Olivia.
"I'd like that, Judge Childs," I said, unfolding my napkin and placing it in my lap. Grandma Olivia studied my posture as I sat straight, my spine pressed firmly against the back of my chair.
As soon as the soup was served and Grandma Olivia picked up her spoon, the Judge and I began to eat. Except for Grandma Olivia's house, I had never eaten anywhere where there were so many pieces of silverware next to the plate. Miss Burton had explained that we always start with the implement of each type that is farthest from the plate. We ate quietly for a moment, Grandma Olivia and I eyeing each other. When the level of our soup became too low for the spoon, Grandma Olivia scraped the bottom of her soup dish, loud enough to be heard.
I tipped mine, lifting the near edge and pointing the bowl away from myself.
"I believe this is the proper way to do it, Grandma," I said, delighted to see her face redden. The Judge started to laugh, but stopped the moment he saw the rage in Grandma Olivia's eyes.
"I know the way to do it. I wasn't ready yet," she replied.
"Your spoon sounded as if you were," I said. Although I was determined to see my plan through, I was beginning to think I might have to take things a bit slower.
She pressed her lips together and tilted her bowl properly, but she only took one more spoonful. When we had both finished, we left our spoons in the soup dish, moving almost simultaneously and looking like two competitors vying for a prize in mealtime etiquette. I saw the question marks in the Judge's eyes.
Trying not to grin, Loretta removed the dishes and returned with our appetizers, clams on the half shell.
"I assume you've visited with Sara and the children since your return," the Judge said. "How are they doing?"
"As best as can be expected. Cary and May really miss their Dad. And, of course, Aunt Sara is just so sad," I replied.
"Please give Sara my best when you see her again," he said. "I will have to do so
mething to help that poor family," he added, shaking his head sadly.
When Grandma Olivia began to eat her clams, the Judge and I dug into ours. The clams were served on cracked ice arranged around containers of cocktail sauce. We speared the clams with our shellfish forks and dipped them into the sauce and ate them in one bite.
"Sweet," the Judge said, patting his belly contentedly.
Our salads followed and then our entree, which tonight was lambchops. I almost choked on my meal when the Judge took one by the bone and gnawed at the meat. I could only imagine what Miss Burton would say to that! Grandma and I cut ours daintily and ate in small bites. When I was finished, I put my knife and fork on the plate and sat back. Loretta took my dishes and silverware, and then collected Grandma Olivia's. The Judge didn't relinquish his until every morsel was gone. Then he smacked his lips and remarked about the flavor of the meat.
"This is one of the best restaurants in
Provincetown," he quipped.
"And the price is right," Grandma Olivia muttered. The Judge roared with laughter and then sat forward, his elbows on the table as he clasped his hands.
"So, Melody, you're about to start your senior year, then," he said. "I bet you're excited about that."
"Yes, I am," I replied honestly.
"I'm thinking of Rosewood for her as a prep school," Grandma Olivia said, always anxious to put in her two cents' worth.
"Oh yes, a fine place. I think Congressman Dunlap's daughter is there this year, if I'm not mistaken." "You're not," Grandma Olivia said.
Loretta brought in our coffee and a lemon cake, which the Judge eyed covetously. When Grandma Olivia lifted her cup, she spilled some of her coffee into the saucer. It was as if a solo performer at a concert had hit a sour note. She froze for a moment and then continued, sipping her coffee and then putting the cup back, her attention shifting to the lemon cake.
"Shouldn't you replace that saucer, Grandma?" I asked her. She fired a look at me and sat back.
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