nobody remembers anything about, much. My mother only remembers a little—”
The “Ha!” hit the ceiling again. “Your mother , she’s not a Paradise! And that Lola Davidow—they think they can steal my hotel out from under me! Well, I have my plans to stop that , don’t think I don’t!”
“What plans?”
Her eyes were bright as the sequins on the mittens as she gouged the bottom of her glass with the straw, the way I like to do with sodas. Right then and there I had an overpowering desire for a chocolate icecream soda with whipped cream and a maraschino cherry. I told myself when this Aurora ordeal was over, that right after lunchtime, I would walk into La Porte to Souder’s Drug Store. Mrs. Souder used real whipped cream on her sodas.
I clutched the black dragon-painted tray as Aurora leaned towards me out of her green wicker chair, stirring up motes of dust and light and sending out whiffs of rosewater and lavender. The closer I was to her, the sweeter the air became, a whole potpourri of scents. I had expected a fouler air, I guess, something rank and nasty you’d associate with old age and a wasting body and a mean mind, something smacking more of fire and brimstone.
“My plan , Miss Smartypants, is to burn the Hotel Paradise to the ground, if it don’t combust before I get around to it!”
Involuntarily—for I had meant to stand my ground, no matter what—I took a step backwards. “When?” My first thoughts were not for anyone’s fate, but to get my belongings out of the Pink Elephant.
“At my con-ven-i-ence, of course. It’ll be like Manderley! I’ll go down with the hotel! I’ll be out there on that balcony”—and she waggled her hand towards the window— “laughing fit to kill! I’ll be the last thing to go! Anyway, that’s my plan,” she wound up in a completely normal tone of voice.
“You’ll be the first to go if you’re out on that balcony, it’s so rotted.”
“Oh, don’t be so goddamned literal ! Here”— she brandished the empty glass— “scare me up another Cold Comfort.”
I didn’t take it. I stood there resolute and said, “I will if you tell me about the Devereaus.”
Her forehead clenched in a deep frown. “You mean the ones lived over by Spirit Lake?”
“Yes.” I relaxed a bit. At least she hadn’t thrown the glass at me. Seeing I wasn’t reaching for it, she relented and set it on the table. But she stared at it as if by sheer power of will she’d raise the bit of liquid in the bottom to brimful.
“Tell you what about them?”
“Whatever you know.” I didn’t want to qualify this by mentioning Mary-Evelyn’s death.
“They were all touched. Especially Isabel Devereau. Though maybe that made her less coldhearted than Louise. Well, craziness isto be expected if you have all those sisters living together. If I lived with mine I’d be stark raving. And there was the young one, Rose Souder.”
Rose? My mother hadn’t mentioned a Rose Souder. “You mean she wasn’t a Devereau?”
“Oh, she was, far as I know. She was a half-sister. Her mother was related in some way to these trashy Souders around here.”
I thought of Souder’s Drug Store. Old Mrs. Souder didn’t strike me as “trashy” at all. But I didn’t want to say so and have her arguing all over the place and bringing in other Souders to prove her point. I said, “My mother didn’t ever mention a Rose Souder Devereau.”
“That’s because no one talked about her. She was the black sheep.”
Those words stilled any nervous shifting I’d been doing, standing there with my tray. “Black sheep” was a phrase that always got my attention, since I thought probably I belonged to that poor flock. “Why? What did she do wrong?”
“Made trouble.” Aurora had put back the walnut halves, the dried pea under one, and was playing the trick on herself, since I wouldn’t cooperate. Her bony hands whisked the three halves about the table’s surface. “She played the
The “Ha!” hit the ceiling again. “Your mother , she’s not a Paradise! And that Lola Davidow—they think they can steal my hotel out from under me! Well, I have my plans to stop that , don’t think I don’t!”
“What plans?”
Her eyes were bright as the sequins on the mittens as she gouged the bottom of her glass with the straw, the way I like to do with sodas. Right then and there I had an overpowering desire for a chocolate icecream soda with whipped cream and a maraschino cherry. I told myself when this Aurora ordeal was over, that right after lunchtime, I would walk into La Porte to Souder’s Drug Store. Mrs. Souder used real whipped cream on her sodas.
I clutched the black dragon-painted tray as Aurora leaned towards me out of her green wicker chair, stirring up motes of dust and light and sending out whiffs of rosewater and lavender. The closer I was to her, the sweeter the air became, a whole potpourri of scents. I had expected a fouler air, I guess, something rank and nasty you’d associate with old age and a wasting body and a mean mind, something smacking more of fire and brimstone.
“My plan , Miss Smartypants, is to burn the Hotel Paradise to the ground, if it don’t combust before I get around to it!”
Involuntarily—for I had meant to stand my ground, no matter what—I took a step backwards. “When?” My first thoughts were not for anyone’s fate, but to get my belongings out of the Pink Elephant.
“At my con-ven-i-ence, of course. It’ll be like Manderley! I’ll go down with the hotel! I’ll be out there on that balcony”—and she waggled her hand towards the window— “laughing fit to kill! I’ll be the last thing to go! Anyway, that’s my plan,” she wound up in a completely normal tone of voice.
“You’ll be the first to go if you’re out on that balcony, it’s so rotted.”
“Oh, don’t be so goddamned literal ! Here”— she brandished the empty glass— “scare me up another Cold Comfort.”
I didn’t take it. I stood there resolute and said, “I will if you tell me about the Devereaus.”
Her forehead clenched in a deep frown. “You mean the ones lived over by Spirit Lake?”
“Yes.” I relaxed a bit. At least she hadn’t thrown the glass at me. Seeing I wasn’t reaching for it, she relented and set it on the table. But she stared at it as if by sheer power of will she’d raise the bit of liquid in the bottom to brimful.
“Tell you what about them?”
“Whatever you know.” I didn’t want to qualify this by mentioning Mary-Evelyn’s death.
“They were all touched. Especially Isabel Devereau. Though maybe that made her less coldhearted than Louise. Well, craziness isto be expected if you have all those sisters living together. If I lived with mine I’d be stark raving. And there was the young one, Rose Souder.”
Rose? My mother hadn’t mentioned a Rose Souder. “You mean she wasn’t a Devereau?”
“Oh, she was, far as I know. She was a half-sister. Her mother was related in some way to these trashy Souders around here.”
I thought of Souder’s Drug Store. Old Mrs. Souder didn’t strike me as “trashy” at all. But I didn’t want to say so and have her arguing all over the place and bringing in other Souders to prove her point. I said, “My mother didn’t ever mention a Rose Souder Devereau.”
“That’s because no one talked about her. She was the black sheep.”
Those words stilled any nervous shifting I’d been doing, standing there with my tray. “Black sheep” was a phrase that always got my attention, since I thought probably I belonged to that poor flock. “Why? What did she do wrong?”
“Made trouble.” Aurora had put back the walnut halves, the dried pea under one, and was playing the trick on herself, since I wouldn’t cooperate. Her bony hands whisked the three halves about the table’s surface. “She played the
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