13.
She took the bags from me and disappeared through
the kitchen door. I looked around the room that I
had never in my wildest fantasies imagined I would
see. Browned
photographs leered
or threatened from the walls and the white,
freshly done curtains pushed against themselves and
against the wind. I wanted to gobble
up the room entire and take it to Bailey, who would
help me analyze and enjoy it. 14.
"Have a seat, Marguerite. Over there by the table."
She carried a platter
covered with a tea towel. Although she warned that
she hadn't tried her hand at baking sweets for some
time, I was certain that like everything else about
her the cookies would be perfect. 15.
They were flat round wafers,
slightly browned on the edges and butter-yellow in
the center. With the cold lemonade they were sufficient
for childhood's lifelong diet. Remembering my manners,
I took nice little lady-like bites off the edges.
She said she had made them expressly
for me and that she had a few in the kitchen that
I could take home to my brother. So
I jammed one whole cake in my mouth and the rough
crumbs scratched the insides of my jaws, and
if I hadn't had to swallow, it would have been a dream
come true.
