A Dual Inheritance by Joanna Hershon

Author:Joanna Hershon [Hershon, Joanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780345538802
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2013-05-06T14:00:00+00:00

Her father told bedtime stories. He spun tales about a king whose house was so big that he couldn’t find the bathroom, who was so used to servants that he didn’t know how to make himself two slices of buttered toast. “I can’t find the bathroom,” her father would say in a high, sort-of-British voice. “I believe I have taken a wrong turn. Dear Jeeves, can you please point me in the right direction?” And Genevieve would laugh and laugh and her father would lie beside her, his big feet hanging off the end of the bed.

Her mother told stories, too.

“Tell me about when you and Papa got married,” said Genevieve. She wanted that one tonight.

“Well,” said her mother, lying on her side, “I was in New York.”

“Paris hadn’t worked out,” Genevieve said.

“No,” said her mother. “Once you take a job typing, you never stop typing. Remember that.”

“I will.” A gust of wind slammed the broken window frame at the foot of her wicker bed. “I hope Papa fixes that soon.”

“I wish he’d let Arvede do it.”

“But Papa likes to fix things.”

“And how long has the window been broken?”

“Since we moved in.”

“That’s right,” said her mother. “That’s right.” Her mother turned onto her back so they were side by side, staring up at the ceiling. “Anyway, I was in New York.”

“And you were supposed to meet Papa in Nairobi, but you missed your flight because you’d been out the previous night with Aunt Kitty, who was visiting.”

“Mmm,” her mother said, closing her eyes. “I let Kitty take me all over town to these different places that she’d wanted to try. I kept thinking: This will be the last place, this will be the last song, but I didn’t go home. I couldn’t, somehow.”

“Because you were having so much fun.”

Her mother reached under the covers and held Genevieve’s hand. “So much fun.”

“And you missed the flight and Papa was waiting and waiting and he got so worried, and by the time you got word to him that you were coming but it was going to be another day or so, he had decided you’d thrown him over for another fellow.”

“He was jealous,” she said. She kissed Genevieve’s hair, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. Then she brushed Genevieve’s bangs off her forehead until Genevieve began to feel sleepy.

“When you arrived in Nairobi he picked you high off the ground, which isn’t easy because you’re so tall, and when he finally put you down, you said, ‘Let’s just get married here,’ and he said, ‘Yeah, okay.’ ”

“Right,” her mother said, laughing, “just like that.”

“And you got married in a garden.”

“We did.”

“That priest did it—”

“—Father Emile.”

“But neither of you was a believer.”

“That’s right, bunny,” her mother said; she always smiled when Genevieve said that. “Your father liked Father Emile, though; he listened to your father and helped him figure out what he wanted to do with his life. And he was a really good cook. For both of these things, I was truly grateful.

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