Early Warning

“I guess Rosa and Lacey live with some new boyfriend so far back into the Big Sur mountains that it takes Lacey an hour or more each way to school on the bus, but they have enough money. Rosa sells glycerin soap she makes with herbs she grows, like lavender or tarragon, and the boyfriend makes violin bows that violinists all over the world are waiting to buy for sky-high prices. They don’t have a television or a radio. Eloise gave me some of the soap — it’s in my suitcase. I brought some for you. It smells delicious. You can take your pick, except for the lemon.” She pushed her plate away and said, “That was good.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re thanked.”

Lillian carried the plate to the sink, where she rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. Janet rose from the table and did what she always did, which was to walk over to the bank of Tim’s pictures — Tim as a newborn, cross-eyed; Tim walking the back of the couch, laughing, with Debbie off to the side, furious; Tim smiling in front of a broken window, the offending tennis ball in his hand (Arthur had labeled that one “Bull’s-eye!”); Tim walking on his hands; Tim dressed as Elvis Presley for Halloween; a picture Steve Sloan had sent her, of Tim onstage at a dance, flicking his cigarette ash into the nest of some unsuspecting older boy’s duck tail — grinning, fourteen, already smoking with expertise; Tim playing his guitar; Tim’s senior portrait, so smooth and innocent-looking. Janet surveyed them for the hundredth, the thousandth time. Since the big argument with Frank that Lillian had heard no details about, Janet was more scarce than she had been, though she still came around every so often to look at pictures of Tim. Debbie said only that Janet swore she would never speak to Frank again. Debbie also said that Janet had never had a boyfriend; Lillian hoped that her devotion to these pictures wasn’t the reason.

She said, “I think maybe your grandmother isn’t quite the old lady she used to be. You heard that Joe taught Rosanna to drive and then bought her a car after she passed the test. She had to take the vision test twice, because they thought she was cheating the first time.”

Janet turned toward her. She looked sad, but she sounded normal: “You’re kidding!”

“Well, they didn’t say that, but they did say that her results were unusual for a woman of her age. Twenty/twenty or just about.”

“What did Joe buy her?”

“She learned in Lois’s car, so I guess they decided that the safest thing was to get her the same model. Two thousand dollars. Minnie told me that Lois was fit to be tied, in her way.”

“What way is that?”

“She wrote a thousand-dollar check to the Methodist church for the new roof. So what was Joe going to say?”

“Uncle Joe is always nice.”

Lillian heard a step behind her, and before she even registered that it was Arthur, Janet’s face hardened, and then went blank. Arthur put his arm around Lillian’s waist and kissed her on the side of the head, then said, “Janny! I didn’t know you were here!” He moved to give her his customary hug, and she stiffened, then backed away, but she did eventually smile and say, “Hi, Uncle Arthur. How are you?”

“Upside down and backwards.” But he didn’t get a laugh.

Lillian said, “I think she prefers ‘Janet,’ darling.”

“I don’t care,” said Janet.

Arthur stared into the toaster at his muffin. When it popped up, he pushed it down again, and then, when it was just right, he popped it and juggled it to the counter, where he buttered it. All of this made Lillian strangely self-conscious, but she had no idea why.

Arthur said, “How do your brothers like Cornell?”

“I guess they’re pretty busy. Cornell still has ROTC, so they joined that.”

Lillian said, “Your dad made gunpowder all through college. They were trying to make it out of cornstalks for the war effort. I guess one time it worked, but only once. Did he tell you that he lived in a tent?”

“I didn’t believe that. You really think it’s true? He also told me he didn’t graduate,” said Janet.

“Pearl Harbor,” said Lillian.

Janet was staring at Arthur, who seemed not to notice. Suddenly she tossed her head and said, “I have to go. I have to turn in my senior thesis in a week, and I’m supposed to be typing all day today.”

“What’s your subject?” said Arthur.

It was then that Janet finally met his gaze completely. “The CIA,” she said.

But Arthur said only, “I thought you were a French major.”

Janet said, “I was going to do it on Violette Lecoq, but there wasn’t enough material, so I am doing it on André Malraux.”

There was a long silence; then Lillian said, “Well, it’s almost noon. I guess we’d better go. Arthur, I’ll be home for dinner. With dinner.”

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