on the coffee table next to the fireplace, which bristles with wrought-iron hooks and pots.
Van Dorn is on the cover.
I pick it up and hold it in the sunlight. Under Van Dornâs picture is a list of captions:
          RENAISSANCE MAN
NEW OWNER AND RESTORER OF BELLE AME
NUCLEAR WIZARD
MITSYâS TROUBLESHOOTER
INTERNATIONAL BRIDGE CHAMPION
OLYMPIC SOCCER COACH AND EDUCATOR
Van Dorn is wearing a yellow safety helmet and holding rolled-up blueprints in one hand and socking the end of the roll with the other. Heâs standing in front of the house at Belle Ame and gazing at the great cooling tower of Mitsy. Heâs a bit thick in the neck, but quite handsome, handsomer in the picture than in fact he is. His expression as he looks at the cooling tower is condescending, if not contemptuous. In his helmet he reminds me of a German officer standing in the open hatch of a tank and looking down at the Maginot Line.
Thereâs a noise above me, a breath of air? I look up.
Ellen comes whirling down the staircase. Sheâs wearing her Trinidad outfit, a bright orange-and-black print wound around her like a sari. It flares as she descends, showing her strong bare brown legs. Sheâs gained weight. The muscle on her shin curves out like a dancerâs. In her hair sheâs woven a bit of the same cloth in a bright corona of color.
Sheâs effusive, gives me a hug and a kiss, as if she hadnât seen me since Trinidad. Maybe she was too sleepy to remember me last night.
âGood God,â she says, frowning and backing off, eyeing me up and down in her old canny Presbyterian style. âWhere did you get that suit? Throw it away. Burn it.â
Her skin is as clear as ever, almost translucent, transmitting a peach glow of health, her skin faintly crimsoned, like flesh over light. Sheâs put on weight but not too much. Her tightly wrapped Trinidad sari becomes her.
An idea occurs to me.
âYouâre looking extremely well.â
âWell, thank you.â
âThe tan is very becoming. Moreoverââ
âIt ought to be. I worked on it. I usually peel.â
âDo you remember how nice it used to be in the afternoon?â
âWhat? Oh, for heavenâs sake.â
âWhat do you say if we go in there for a while?â I nod to the downstairs bedroom.
âThatâs the best proposal Iâve had all week!â she says, too heartily.
âWell?â
âDummy, weâve got to go to the awards dinner in thirty minutes.â
âThis will only take fifteen.â
âOh, forâ! Thatâs Chandraâs bedroom now.â
âChandra wonât mind. Do you remember the Sears Best?â Sears Best was a king-size mattress on a big brass bedstead.
âWhat? Oh, I certainly do. And it certainly was!â
I look at her. She is both hearty and preoccupied. She taps her tooth.
âDo you remember standing at the sink and being approached from behind?â
âWhat? Oh.â She blushes. For half a second I could swear she remembered love in the afternoon and was on the very point of heading for Sears Best. But she frowns, looks at her watch, makes her clucking sound. âOh, God, I forgot. I have to call Sheri Comeaux about tonight. Whatâaâpain!â
âI donât think I can make it.â
âWhy the hell not?â Her fists are on her hips.
âIâm not much for school functionsââ I begin.
âWell, hear this. You damn well better be. This happens to be important to Tommy and for his future. It just so happens that Tommy is getting an award for summer soccer, the award, and that he is Olympic material. It also just so happens that if Tommy and Margaret are going to Belle Ame Academy, an honor in itself, you had damn well better show some interest, because Van is already breaking the rules taking them this late.â
And so on. Instead of letting me
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