Dreadful Sorry by Kathryn Reiss

Author:Kathryn Reiss [Reiss, Kathryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

That evening she sat numbly through a celebratory dinner in her honor, with Uncle Wallace presiding in fine humor. The older children were permitted to eat in the dining room for the occasion, and Clementine was allowed a half glass of wine. Aunt Ethel even made the trip down the long flight of stairs and sat for the first time in months with her family, although she merely pushed the food around on her plate.

"You need to eat more, my dear," reproved Uncle Wallace from the other end of the table. "Remember that you're eating for two. You need to keep your strength up."

"Yes, Wallace," said Aunt Ethel softly. "I do try, you know."

The new baby was due around Christmas, Janie had whispered to all the children. But they must wait patiently and not tire their mother with questions about it. Little Augustus was not yet a year old, and he needed their attention, since their mother was too weak to take any interest in the poor lad.

Janie came in from the kitchen to clear their plates. They sat silently until she reentered bearing a tray laden with two wild blueberry pies, a bowl of whipped cream, and a stack of serving bowls. She set the tray near Aunt Ethel and began slicing the pie into thick wedges.

"None for me," Aunt Ethel told her, then caught her husband's eye. "All right, then. Just a small portion. "

"A small portion for, me, too, please," said Clementine, when Janie had moved around the table to her place.

"Clemmy's trying to keep her figure," announced Anne. "I saw how one of the boys from the village was looking at her! He even said right out loud that he'd like to marry her!" Anne's thoughts had recently turned to romance, and she often speculated to Clementine about their future husbands and what being kissed would be like.

Uncle Wallace set down his fork and cleared his throat. "And who might this village boy be, Clementine?"

She shrugged lightly. "Oh, Uncle Wallace, it's nothing to worry about. It's just Hob Wilkins—he graduated today, too, you know. He always has a crush on one girl or another."

"I certainly hope you don't return his affections, Clementine."

"Not at all, Uncle Wallace," she replied honestly.

"That's good." Uncle Wallace shook his head and picked up his fork again. He looked around the table at all the children. "You all know how your mother and I feel about the village children. They're not our sort."

"Of course, Father!" Anne's voice was merry. "I'd never want to marry a villager. Why, they smell of fish and lobster all the time. And we'd have to live in a little cottage and—well, I think it would be awful! Wouldn't it, Clemmy?"

But it wasn't the smell of fish or the small houses that Clementine objected to. It was the pattern of small-town life. It was the lack of opportunity.

"Father will find all you girls suitable husbands in Boston or New York," said Aunt Ethel softly. "You too, of course, Clementine, dear.

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