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Authors: Larry McMurtry
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said. He was always saying that the war clouds were gathering, a phrase which for some reason irked her.
“China’s a rather populous country,” she added. “Where could it possibly go?”
“Well, civil war could break out,” the General said. He had spoken rather automatically, and now regretted it. He did not in fact think China would go, but then again it might, and what did Aurora know about it, anyway? They had visitedChina together, and, except for a few art-historical high spots, Aurora had scarcely noticed the country. In Beijing she had complained because there were too many bicycles and no way to make them stop so she could cross the street; her mood had only improved once they got back to Hong Kong, where she could shop all day.
Aurora had been polishing her rings on a napkin as Rosie and the General exchanged tidbits of speculation about what might happen in the trouble spots of the world. This happened every evening now, so regularly, indeed, monotonously, that she had almost come to regret her decision to install Rosie as the permanent occupant of the guest house in the backyard.
True, her decision had rescued Rosie from the violent Denver Harbor neighborhood where she had survived by dint of tooth and claw for most of her adult life; but the downside meant having her dinner table turned into a political-science seminar run by her maid and her boyfriend.
She was about to deliver herself of a blunt comment notifying them as to what they could do with China, not to mention Lithuania, when the doorbell rang.
“Thank God, it’s my date, just when I need him most,” she said, brightening. “Last chance for walnut cake.”
The General, considering how best to employ his double six, ignored her remark about the date, but hastily whacked himself off another piece of cake. The second he did, Aurora took the plate and headed downstairs.
“I don’t know why I put up with this,” he said, once he felt sure Aurora was out of hearing distance. “It’s your move, Rosie.”
“Granny’s just a big flirt,” Melanie said. “She really loves you best.”
The General chuckled. He was well aware that both Melanie and Rosie gave him a lot of credit for tolerating Aurora’s willful ways.
“If she loves me best, God help the rest of them,” he said. “Play, Rosie. You’re the only person I know who has to use a calculator to play dominoes.”
“Its batteries are about to go, that’s why it’s flickering,” Rosie said. “I skipped third grade, that’s probably why I’m no good at addition.”
Melanie yawned. She thought she might go by Teddy’s for a while. The apartment where he and Jane lived was only a few blocks from her own apartment. Teddy and Jane were always up, studying Sanskrit or some other language.
Aurora had prepared a little snack for Pascal—a pear, a mango, some of the walnut cake, a little Camembert, and a half-bottle of Burgundy. She set it out on a small table in her downstairs study before bothering to go to the door to let Pascal in. Over the years she had found it best to let Pascal settle his nerves for a few minutes before letting him in—otherwise he might jump at her in his eagerness to show affection. He was a mere five four, and when agitated displayed something of the jumpy character of a small French dog.
Pascal Ferney, waiting with increasing discouragement just outside the door, wondered if this would be the night when Aurora wouldn’t let him in at all. With any other woman he would have been ringing the doorbell furiously every few seconds, but he had done that once, in his early days, and Aurora had responded with a fury so violent that ever since he had had to screw up his courage to a high pitch before even ringing the doorbell once. What if he pushed too hard and the doorbell became stuck? What would she do then?
“Goodness, Pascal, just in time,” Aurora said, opening the door and giving him a hug in one smooth motion. Hugging him immediately was
“China’s a rather populous country,” she added. “Where could it possibly go?”
“Well, civil war could break out,” the General said. He had spoken rather automatically, and now regretted it. He did not in fact think China would go, but then again it might, and what did Aurora know about it, anyway? They had visitedChina together, and, except for a few art-historical high spots, Aurora had scarcely noticed the country. In Beijing she had complained because there were too many bicycles and no way to make them stop so she could cross the street; her mood had only improved once they got back to Hong Kong, where she could shop all day.
Aurora had been polishing her rings on a napkin as Rosie and the General exchanged tidbits of speculation about what might happen in the trouble spots of the world. This happened every evening now, so regularly, indeed, monotonously, that she had almost come to regret her decision to install Rosie as the permanent occupant of the guest house in the backyard.
True, her decision had rescued Rosie from the violent Denver Harbor neighborhood where she had survived by dint of tooth and claw for most of her adult life; but the downside meant having her dinner table turned into a political-science seminar run by her maid and her boyfriend.
She was about to deliver herself of a blunt comment notifying them as to what they could do with China, not to mention Lithuania, when the doorbell rang.
“Thank God, it’s my date, just when I need him most,” she said, brightening. “Last chance for walnut cake.”
The General, considering how best to employ his double six, ignored her remark about the date, but hastily whacked himself off another piece of cake. The second he did, Aurora took the plate and headed downstairs.
“I don’t know why I put up with this,” he said, once he felt sure Aurora was out of hearing distance. “It’s your move, Rosie.”
“Granny’s just a big flirt,” Melanie said. “She really loves you best.”
The General chuckled. He was well aware that both Melanie and Rosie gave him a lot of credit for tolerating Aurora’s willful ways.
“If she loves me best, God help the rest of them,” he said. “Play, Rosie. You’re the only person I know who has to use a calculator to play dominoes.”
“Its batteries are about to go, that’s why it’s flickering,” Rosie said. “I skipped third grade, that’s probably why I’m no good at addition.”
Melanie yawned. She thought she might go by Teddy’s for a while. The apartment where he and Jane lived was only a few blocks from her own apartment. Teddy and Jane were always up, studying Sanskrit or some other language.
Aurora had prepared a little snack for Pascal—a pear, a mango, some of the walnut cake, a little Camembert, and a half-bottle of Burgundy. She set it out on a small table in her downstairs study before bothering to go to the door to let Pascal in. Over the years she had found it best to let Pascal settle his nerves for a few minutes before letting him in—otherwise he might jump at her in his eagerness to show affection. He was a mere five four, and when agitated displayed something of the jumpy character of a small French dog.
Pascal Ferney, waiting with increasing discouragement just outside the door, wondered if this would be the night when Aurora wouldn’t let him in at all. With any other woman he would have been ringing the doorbell furiously every few seconds, but he had done that once, in his early days, and Aurora had responded with a fury so violent that ever since he had had to screw up his courage to a high pitch before even ringing the doorbell once. What if he pushed too hard and the doorbell became stuck? What would she do then?
“Goodness, Pascal, just in time,” Aurora said, opening the door and giving him a hug in one smooth motion. Hugging him immediately was
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