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Authors: Naomi Ragen
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small island.
Catherine nodded gratefully, looking for some sign of a thaw. But Suzanne’s face was tight and silent as she leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed defensively, one leg swinging with nervous abandon.
She was queenly, Catherine thought with a touch of wonder, taking in her height and slimness. Those long, shapely legs flashing beneath the skimpy robe, those elegant cheekbones, that posture…. Nothing like me or Janice. The beneficiary of some long-lost DNA contributed hundreds of years before by some royal Gentile princess who had married into the Nasi clan at the height of its wealth and power.
“Really, Grandmother, you could have called!” she said peevishly. “I would have been happy to save you all the steps up here. And”—she hesitated, taking a deep, defiant breath—“if it has anything to do with all those things Mom and Kenny have been badgering me about, I wish you’d save your strength. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Badgering? About what?”
Her toes dug listlessly into the brown-and-red kilim rug beneath her. “The stuff about moving back home, socially correct parties, Junior League. The bribes: car, apartment, et cetera. I’m twenty-five years old. I’ve got a good job. I have my own home. I’m never going back to Scarsdale, so you can just…”
“What happened to your prints from Paris and those beautiful ceramics and the antiques? And where are all Renaldo’s paintings?” Catherine interrupted her.
Suzanne surveyed her grandmother coolly, reaching for a pack of cigarettes. Without asking permission, she lit one and took a deep drag. “I’m redecorating,” she said calmly, lips stretched tight over teeth.
“The bed’s cooling off, Suzanne,” a deep male voice called.
Catherine’s appalled eyes caught her granddaughter’s. She was surprised and grateful to see a blush creep up the young woman’s cheeks.
Not completely lost. Not yet. “I’ve heard those temperature controls on waterbeds are so fragile. Is the repairman almost done?” Catherine asked innocently.
Suzanne stared at her, and then both of them broke into a grin.
“I’ll go see, Grandmother.”
He left, disgruntled, and with a distinct lack of grace that banished any sense of regret Suzanne might have felt. Actually, she felt relieved.
“Tea, Gran?”
“Actually, I was hoping to treat you to an early lunch.”
“Well, uh, that’s, that’s very…but you know, I’m a strict vegetarian these days, and no milk or cheese or eggs either,” she said coolly, waiting for a reaction. There wasn’t any, so she kept going: “Rainforests are being destroyed. Food supplies are being squandered. Animals are needlessly suffering all in the name of cattle production, even though we no longer need meat for survival. Besides, with all those hormones they inject into beef, it’s just poisoning us and the whole ecosystem,” she argued, beginning to feel a bit cheated and inexplicably flustered, somehow, at Catherine’s equanimity. “The only thing that’s preventing us from moving forward is this stupid connection to the past….”
Catherine listened patiently, swallowing hard. “What about a seafood restaurant, then?”
“Grandmother! Fish are living creatures, too! Besides, they boil lobsters live, and oysters are actually swallowed live! I mean, cannibalism!” She shook her head. “But there is this vegetarian Buddhist restaurant they just opened up a few blocks from here. The upstairs is actually a temple with these fruit offerings around an altar.”
“Whatever makes you comfortable, Suzanne dearest,” Catherine said with determined cheer and a distinct sense that strangulation was slowly settling in over her vocal cords from inhaling all that cigarette smoke.
“It’s not a question of comfort, Gran. It’s a question of the planet’s survival!” Suzanne exclaimed passionately.
Catherine was about to bring up the issue of tar and nicotine pollution to the
Catherine nodded gratefully, looking for some sign of a thaw. But Suzanne’s face was tight and silent as she leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed defensively, one leg swinging with nervous abandon.
She was queenly, Catherine thought with a touch of wonder, taking in her height and slimness. Those long, shapely legs flashing beneath the skimpy robe, those elegant cheekbones, that posture…. Nothing like me or Janice. The beneficiary of some long-lost DNA contributed hundreds of years before by some royal Gentile princess who had married into the Nasi clan at the height of its wealth and power.
“Really, Grandmother, you could have called!” she said peevishly. “I would have been happy to save you all the steps up here. And”—she hesitated, taking a deep, defiant breath—“if it has anything to do with all those things Mom and Kenny have been badgering me about, I wish you’d save your strength. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Badgering? About what?”
Her toes dug listlessly into the brown-and-red kilim rug beneath her. “The stuff about moving back home, socially correct parties, Junior League. The bribes: car, apartment, et cetera. I’m twenty-five years old. I’ve got a good job. I have my own home. I’m never going back to Scarsdale, so you can just…”
“What happened to your prints from Paris and those beautiful ceramics and the antiques? And where are all Renaldo’s paintings?” Catherine interrupted her.
Suzanne surveyed her grandmother coolly, reaching for a pack of cigarettes. Without asking permission, she lit one and took a deep drag. “I’m redecorating,” she said calmly, lips stretched tight over teeth.
“The bed’s cooling off, Suzanne,” a deep male voice called.
Catherine’s appalled eyes caught her granddaughter’s. She was surprised and grateful to see a blush creep up the young woman’s cheeks.
Not completely lost. Not yet. “I’ve heard those temperature controls on waterbeds are so fragile. Is the repairman almost done?” Catherine asked innocently.
Suzanne stared at her, and then both of them broke into a grin.
“I’ll go see, Grandmother.”
He left, disgruntled, and with a distinct lack of grace that banished any sense of regret Suzanne might have felt. Actually, she felt relieved.
“Tea, Gran?”
“Actually, I was hoping to treat you to an early lunch.”
“Well, uh, that’s, that’s very…but you know, I’m a strict vegetarian these days, and no milk or cheese or eggs either,” she said coolly, waiting for a reaction. There wasn’t any, so she kept going: “Rainforests are being destroyed. Food supplies are being squandered. Animals are needlessly suffering all in the name of cattle production, even though we no longer need meat for survival. Besides, with all those hormones they inject into beef, it’s just poisoning us and the whole ecosystem,” she argued, beginning to feel a bit cheated and inexplicably flustered, somehow, at Catherine’s equanimity. “The only thing that’s preventing us from moving forward is this stupid connection to the past….”
Catherine listened patiently, swallowing hard. “What about a seafood restaurant, then?”
“Grandmother! Fish are living creatures, too! Besides, they boil lobsters live, and oysters are actually swallowed live! I mean, cannibalism!” She shook her head. “But there is this vegetarian Buddhist restaurant they just opened up a few blocks from here. The upstairs is actually a temple with these fruit offerings around an altar.”
“Whatever makes you comfortable, Suzanne dearest,” Catherine said with determined cheer and a distinct sense that strangulation was slowly settling in over her vocal cords from inhaling all that cigarette smoke.
“It’s not a question of comfort, Gran. It’s a question of the planet’s survival!” Suzanne exclaimed passionately.
Catherine was about to bring up the issue of tar and nicotine pollution to the
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