Read Online The Christmas Pearl by Dorothea Benton Frank - Free Book Online

her lips and said in nearly a whisper, “Shush now. That’s not nice.”
    “Oh, sorry! Like you come from a family of aristocrats ? Leave her alone,” George said, and snarled, looking to Camille for support. “Hicks.” Even Camille, with that acid-dripping viper’s tongue of hers, knew better, and she looked away.
    What was the matter with him? Insulting Lynette in front of everyone? On Christmas Eve? George had gone too far.
    It seemed that no one was terribly bothered by George’s rudeness except me and you know who. Pearl, still moving about in the room but disbelieving her ears, stopped dead in her tracks. I looked at Barbara and waited for her to say something. She cleared her throat.
    “That wasn’t very nice, George,” Barbara said.
    Her words held all the power of someone trying to kill a grizzly bear with a broom straw. She didn’t even ruffle one of George’s feathers.
    I stood up. “It was inexcusably rude. Apologize at once.”
    George gave me an icy dismissive glare and then he cocked his head to one side, stared at Lynette, and said nothing. Lynette burst into tears and ran from the table.
    “You children come with me,” I said.
    Obediently, Teddie and Andrew followed Pearl and me to the kitchen without a word.
    “Wash your hands,” Pearl said, marching them to the smaller sink.
    They did as she asked without one objection and I thought just that was a small miracle in and of itself. I mean, when you had him alone, Andrew almost always did as he was told, but sometimes when he and Teddie were in cahoots, he could try to wiggle out of a chore. He was a regulation boy. Teddie’s face was flushed and I realized for the first time that she was embarrassed by her father. She was growing up.
    “Now, sit up there on them stools and get ready to help roll sands,” Pearl said to them, placing the bowl of mixture and a cookie sheet in front of them.
    “I’ll show you how to make them,” I said. “They’re like fingers. We used to call them moldy mice!”
    “Ew! Gross!” Teddie said, wiggling down from the stool. “Yuck! I’m going to go watch TV.”
    Andrew, who had pinched off a piece of dough and was munching away on it, said to Teddie, “It’s good. Try it!”
    “You stay put, missy,” Pearl said, and seeing that she meant business, Teddie slowly climbed back to her place. Teddie had some terrible problems with authority figures, but that wasn’t the issue then. I thought that perhaps she wanted to escape in order to suffer the indignities of her father’s behavior in private or by losing herself in a television program.
    “Thank you, sir!” Pearl said to Andrew, and smiled.
    Teddie ate a crumb, then a larger bit, shrugged her shoulders, and said, “It’s not great but it’s not terrible. Sorta reminds me of cookie-dough ice cream. Just how long is this going to take?”
    “Till we’re done,” Pearl said.
    Teddie sucked her teeth and made a noise that sounded like snick. “Now, how do I do this?”
    “Like this,” I said, smiling. We had a small win at last. I took a tablespoonful of dough, rolled it between my palms, tidied up the ends, and laid it on the cookie sheet. I handed them each a tablespoon and said, “Now, let’s get busy!”
    “Andrew picked his nose,” Teddie said, and giggled.
    “Did not!”
    “Did. I saw you.”
    “Stop your nonsense, Teddie, this is Christmas!” I said. “Andrew? You are only allowed to engage in those activities outside of the house!”
    Andrew and Teddie laughed at that and I smiled at them.
    Looking up to the ceiling for patience, Pearl scraped the dishes, put them in the sink, and turned on the spigot to cover them with hot sudsy water. Moments later, Camille came in with the remains of the dirty flatware and opened the dishwasher.
    “Just throw the plates in here,” she said to Pearl.
    “No good for the gold trim,” Pearl said.
    “Oh, who cares?” Camille said. “Buy new.”
    Barbara came through the swinging door with