Early Warning

When the plane took off, Annie put her two books obediently into the pocket of the seat back in front of her. When they were flying, she read them like clockwork, half an hour for The Mill on the Floss, half an hour for Love to the Rescue. Barbara Cartland. Well, better than television, Minnie thought. Minnie smoothed her wool skirt over her knees. That, too, was new — orange. Minnie could never have imagined herself in an orange skirt with an orange-and-green matching sweater. Annie had gone to Younkers and come out with a new brown dress; Minnie sometimes wondered what Annie would be like if she hadn’t lived all her life with the assistant principal (and now, as of next year, principal, the first-ever female principal in Usher County). Annie was soft and affectionate, a bit of a mouth breather, not much like Lois, who did everything right, including sleep in the same room with her husband and show kindness to her children. Lois acted toward Minnie with total correctness, but gave off no warmth that Minnie could see. Annie, Minnie thought, was, as the kids at school would say, clueless, though appealingly so. Minnie knew it was her job to prod her niece, to give her a little spine so that she might make something of her life. The stewardess announced that they were about to land; Minnie realized that she was not going to be able to distract herself from the marriage of Frank Langdon and Andrea Langdon for much longer.

Andy was waiting at the gate. Minnie saw her gaze take in Annie and then switch to her as she stepped forward and held out her arms. Minnie gave her a brief hug, and Andy said, “What a bright and cheerful outfit you have on.”

Andy herself was wearing slender high-heeled boots, black stockings, and a black belted wool coat, way beyond cheerful. Minnie began to see the humorous side of this visit.

Andy said, “Arthur and Lillian should be here by dinner. Nedra is making a leg of lamb. Is that all right? So many of Janet’s friends nearly pass out at the idea of eating a poor little lamb. Annie, you look so much like your aunt Claire. Are these your bags? I’ve parked right out front. So easy. Newark is much more accessible than LaGuardia. Frank should be home when we get there. I thought when he got out of the oil business he would be home more. I thought weapons would have a more relaxed schedule.” She took the keys out of her purse and left Minnie and Annie to wrestle their bags into the trunk of the Cadillac, yellow with a black convertible top.

The trip from the airport was a lesson in the steepness of the socioeconomic slope on the Eastern Seaboard. Seventeen miles, according to the odometer, that began in industrial wasteland, ended in pastures of heaven. The driveway was long, and heavily shaded. Andy pulled up in front of a sprawling contemporary house with overhanging eaves and tall, narrow windows. It looked like the Frank Lloyd Wright house in Mason City, though not quite as dark and heavy. Andy and Annie tromped right in, but Minnie stopped to gaze at the blooming forsythia. She saw over the hedge that the neighbors had both a tennis court and a swimming pool. She vowed not to look impressed. Nedra came out of the kitchen and said, “How are you, Miss Frederick? I put you in the upstairs guest room.”

Minnie’s outfit clashed with every item of furniture in the whole house, so she changed into plain old black trousers and a navy-blue sweater. She was coming down the staircase when Frank walked in. She hadn’t seen him since Claire’s wedding. He looked gaunt, she thought. When he took off his hat, he was bald over the top. She had only time to think that the shape of his head was quite attractive before he glanced her way and smiled.

He said, “I sense a lurker in the bushes.”

“Just an old nanny goat chewing a few leaves.”

He gave her a warm hug. Andy appeared with a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She said, “She made Baked Alaska.”

“Oh, I love that,” said Minnie.

“The Bergstroms invented Baked Alaska back in Eidsvoll, in 1234,” said Andy.

“Really?” exclaimed Minnie.

“No. But they called it a Norski omelette. My aunt always spread the sponge cake with lingonberry jam.” She sipped her drink. Frank kissed her on the forehead and went to the back of the house.

Andy said, “Bourbon, Scotch, vodka, gin, Burgundy, beer?”

“What are you having?”

“Old Fashioned. Only one. Only one. Only one.” Andy smiled.

Minnie said, “Maybe later.”

Andy turned the ice in her glass with her finger, then said, “How is everyone?”

“Fine,” said Minnie. “How do the boys like their military school?”

“Oh, they don’t. That’s the point. They had to go somewhere where the adults are one step ahead of them.”

“But they’re doing all right? That place has a good reputation for keeping the kids active and organized.”

“I would have sent them to Summerhill, in England—”

“Good heavens,” said Minnie.