A Thousand Acres_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [160]
“Sounds like a good price.”
“We should have made Daddy show us more, and let us get more into the habit of working. If I’d been in the habit of doing it day after day, like Ty or Loren, it wouldn’t have been so hard.” She took some deep breaths, then reached for a glass and sipped some water through a straw. She said, “Take the girls back with you. They’re ready to go.”
“You mean, they’re packed?”
“More or less.”
I thought she meant that I was to get them at the farm and take them back to St. Paul that night. I said, “Rose, that’s ridiculous.”
“Tell me you’ll take them.”
“Of course I’ll take them.”
“Tomorrow we’ll talk about when.”
“Okay.”
She spoke in bursts that seemed to issue forth rather than in words formed by her tongue and lips. And it tired her. That was all she said for about an hour, and then her eyelids rose again, and she said, “Go home and make them some dinner. Make them fried chicken.”
I stood up. “Rose, I’ve got as long as I want. I haven’t taken any vacation time in three years.”
She nodded heavily.
Linda wasn’t surprised to see me, only surprised that I’d bothered to knock. I was surprised to see her, though. In the last three years, I had sent presents at birthdays and Christmas, but, actually, I had thrown away their thank-you notes unopened, afraid to face the loss of them along with everything else. I composed myself on the porch, and stepped inside. Ty’s snapshot hadn’t prepared me for the actuality of her height, her flesh, her fifteen-year-old air of confidence, or her deep voice when she called out, “Pam! Aunt Ginny’s here!” I stepped across the threshold and she embraced me tightly. Pammy came in from the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. She said, “Oh, Aunt Ginny! You were supposed to take five minutes longer so that I could get the dishes put away!”
The house looked less functionally bare than it had in Daddy’s day, and the white brocade couch formed the centerpiece of a living-room suite that included a new co-ordinating wing-back chair and an oak side table. A lamp with a white pleated shade and a cut-glass base completed the picture. Daddy’s old armchair was nowhere to be seen. Pete’s piano sat in the corner. There were no pictures on it. Furniture filled the room exactly to the brim, inviting entrance, civilized at last.
I sat down in the new chair, and said, “The place looks great. Your grandfather always thought his chair facing the window and a stack of magazines within reach was a good enough way to decorate.”
They sat together on the couch. They smiled at my remark. Pammy reached for a remote control, then turned off the television. She said, “It’s just ‘Wheel of Fortune.’ ”
I said, “I saw your mom.”
Linda said, “She called us.”
“I guess I’m going to be staying for a while.”
Pammy said, “You could stay closer to the hospital if you want. We’re old enough to stay alone.”
“That seems kind of lonely.”
Linda nodded at this. Pammy said, “For you or for us?”
“I guess for everybody.”
After a moment, Linda said, “Are they going to let her come home soon? She thinks they are, but I don’t really believe her.”
I shrugged. “All she told me was to come and make you some fried chicken. I picked up a chicken on the way.”
Pammy said, “We’ve been vegetarians for three years.”
“Do you think you’ve lost the ability to digest meat?”
Linda giggled. They looked at each other, and finally she said, “We eat meat at school. We even go to Kentucky Fried Chicken sometimes. Are you going to make mashed potatoes and cream gravy?”
“Would you like me to?”
They both nodded.
I thought I was doing quite well. I stood up easily and walked into the kitchen without a hitch. I found the cast iron chicken fryer and a pan for the potatoes. The only trouble was, the kitchen seemed arctic. The blue gas flames of the burner