Shipping News, The - E. Annie Proulx [142]
“I’ll get over this,” she said. “I’ve always been good at it. Getting over things.”
“I know,” he said. “I know some of the things you’ve managed to get over.”
“Oh, my boy, you couldn’t even guess.” Shaking her head, the stiff smile.
That sometimes irked. Quoyle blurted, “I know about what my father did. To you. When you were kids. The old cousin told me, old Nolan Quoyle.”
He did know. The aunt hauled in her breath. The secret of her whole life.
Didn’t know what to say, se she laughed. Or something like it. Then sobbed into her palms while the nephew said there, there, patting her shoulder as if she were Bunny or Sunshine. And it was Quoyle who thought of a cup of tea. Should have kept his mouth shut.
She straightened up, the busy hands revived. Pretending he’d [323] never said a thing. Was already throwing out ideas like Jack pitched fish.
“We’ll build a new place. Like you say, a summer place. I’d as soon live in town the rest of the year. Fact, I was thinking of it.
“We’ll have to make some money first. Before we can build anything out on the point. And I don’t know how much I can put into it. I’m thinking I’d like to buy the Burke house.”
“Well,” said the aunt, “money to rebuild out on the point isn’t a problem. There’s the insurance, you know.”
“You had insurance on the green house?” Quoyle incredulous. He was not insurance-minded.
“Of course. First thing I did when we moved up last year. Fire, flood, ice, act of God. This was an act of God if I ever saw one. If I was you I’d ask the Burkes about that house. It’ll be a good roomy house for you. For children and all. For I suppose that you and Wavey have about come to that point. Though you haven’t said.
Quoyle almost nodded. Dipped his chin. Thought while the aunt talked.
“But I’ve got other plans.” Making some of it up as she went along. Couldn’t live with the nephew now. Who knew what he knew.
“I’ve been thinking about that building where my shop is. I’ve looked into buying it. Get it for a song. I’ve got to expand the work space. And upstairs is nice and snug with a view of the harbor. It could make a handsome apartment. And I wouldn’t be going into it alone. Mavis—Mavis Bangs, you know Mavis—wants to go partners in the business. She’s got a little money set aside. Oh, this’s all we talked about all winter. And it makes sense if we both live upstairs over the shop. So that’s what I’m thinking we’ll do. In a way it’s a blessing the old place is gone.”
As usual, the aunt was way out front and running.
39
Shining Hubcaps
“There are still old knots that are unrecorded, and so long as
there are new Purposes for rope, there will always be new knots
to discover.”
THE ASHLEY BOOK OF KNOTS
PACK ice like broken restaurant dishes still in the bay but the boat was finished. The last curl looped out of Yark’s plane. He stood away, slapped the graceful wood, made a palm-sized cloud of dust. Seemed made of saw scraps himself. Humming.
“Well, that’s she,” he said. “Get some paint on ‘er and there you go.” And while Quoyle and Dennis wrestled the boat onto the trailer, the old man watched but took his ease. His part was finished.
His mouth cracked open. Quoyle, guessing what was coming, got there first, roared “Oh the Gandy Goose, it ain’t no use,” sang it to the end, swelling the volume until the lugubrious tune took warmth from his hot throat. Old Yark believed it was a salute, embroidered stories for half an hour before he went up to his tea, the tune still warm in his ears as a hat from behind the stove.
¯
[325] A platter of fried herrings with bacon rashers and hashed potatoes. A quart jar of mustard. Beety back and forth, stepping over Warren the Second who wished to live forever beneath the table cloth or with the boots but could not decide. Quoyle and Wavey were supper guests, full of kind laughter and praise for what they ate. Boiled cabbage. And