Read Online Souvenir of Cold Springs by Kitty Burns Florey - Free Book Online Page B

permission and explain to them exactly what they’re getting into.”
    â€œBut these are so sweet,” Thea said. “They really express what childhood is all about.”
    â€œI do think pencil sketches are rather a different thing from photographs,” Sandra said. “We really are talking about fine art.”
    Heather sighed. “There we were—innocent babes trusting our dear old Uncle Jamie to draw our pictures. Little did we know what we were getting into.”
    She had meant to joke, to lighten things up, but Jamie put down his fork and folded his hands tightly in front of his chest. “It seems to me that you’re making rather a big deal out of nothing,” he said stiffly. He jerked his head when he talked, like Sandra did, and little Britishisms were creeping into his speech—all those rathers. “This is a completely insignificant exhibit, and this is insignificant early work.”
    â€œHardly, darling,” Sandra murmured.
    â€œI’m only including them because I was specifically asked to. I can easily leave them out. They certainly don’t represent my best efforts.”
    â€œCould you all argue about it after dinner?” Nell asked. She passed the turnips across the table. “Here, Jamie. Please. Have some turnips.”
    â€œAnd let me give you some more turkey,” Thea said. “I know you like dark meat, Jamie. And what about you, Heather? Did you get enough?”
    â€œBut it’s a family tradition,” Teddy said. “We always argue at Thanksgiving dinner. Come on. Don’t stop there. Let’s talk about Thatcher. Let’s talk about Reagan.”
    â€œOh God, don’t get Teddy going on Reagan,” said Lucy.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Ted? You’re not better off than you were four years ago?” asked Mark.
    â€œNot bloody likely,” said Teddy.
    â€œAnd whose fault is that? Reagan’s? Isn’t there a more obvious candidate?”
    Sandra broke in. “Reagan’s a good man at heart, don’t you think?” She cut a piece of turkey and put it in her mouth, still talking. “Getting on a bit, perhaps, but he’s such an inspiring figure.”
    â€œHe’s a younger fella than I am,” Mr. Fahey said. When Mr. Fahey chuckled he showed crooked yellow teeth, browning at their roots. “Spring chicken compared to me.”
    â€œHe’s an old fascist,” Margaret said.
    â€œPlease,” said Nell. “My dears. Don’t start. My digestion isn’t what it was.”
    â€œIt’s the meat,” said Lucy. “It makes people aggressive.”
    â€œThen what makes you and Margaret aggressive?” Mark asked her. “Lentils?”
    â€œAm I being aggressive? I thought I was being a model of self-control.”
    â€œMaybe it’s the champagne,” Aunt Nell said, looking tired. “Teddy, you should quit bringing champagne. It gets us all fired up. We should drink something milder.”
    â€œPepsi,” Mr. Fahey said, and they all laughed.
    Sandra said, “I do think American holidays are fascinating. The idea of getting together for the sole purpose of overeating.”
    â€œOh my God!” Lucy put her hands over her mouth. They all looked at her. Her cheeks flamed red. She gave a little laugh. “I just ate a piece of turkey. Just absentmindedly took it off the platter and put it in my mouth and chewed it and ate it. Oh God, I can’t believe I did that.”
    â€œIt won’t kill you,” Mark said.
    â€œThat’s not the point. I haven’t touched a piece of meat in—how long? Nearly eight years.”
    Heather said, “See, Aunt Lucy? What did I tell you? The world is full of ex-vegetarians.”
    â€œI’m not an ex-vegetarian, Heather. I’m—God, this isn’t funny, it’s terrible, I feel awful.”
    â€œOh Mom.” Margaret reached across Mr. Fahey to pat