Spectacle by Jodie Lynn Zdrok

Author:Jodie Lynn Zdrok
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

* * *

A delectable fruity scent greeted her in the hall as she approached the apartment. Nathalie inhaled deeply, savoring the smell before walking through the door.

She entered to see Maman making raspberry jam.

“Good news!” Maman said, beaming. “I went to buy raspberries to make a pie at Marchand’s market, and Simone’s mother asked if I was going to make some jam. The jar I gave them last Christmas was the best she’d ever had, she said. We talked for a while and she offered to sell my jams at the market.” Maman bounced on her toes. “She said whatever I make, she’ll put on the shelf. She’s going to talk to some of the other shopowners in other parts of the city, too, to see if they’ll sell it as well. We agreed on a price, and now all I need to do is supply her. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Given their argument yesterday, this was among the last moods she expected her mother to be in this afternoon. Nathalie had anticipated coolness or a round of inquiry or even some worry in the aftermath of the daylong headache. It took her a moment to shift her thinking to reflect this version of Maman, who was happier than she’d been in months.

“Parfait!” Nathalie said. Jam-making wouldn’t replace sewing, neither in terms of fondness nor of income. Yet it was clear Maman was overjoyed to do something with her hands. “I’m so happy for you!”

She walked over to hug Maman and kissed her on both cheeks. Part peace offering, part congratulations.

“Nathalie … that reminds me. How is Simone? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.”

Simone. Just hearing the name made Nathalie’s heart cry and tighten all at once, like one of those flowers that folded into itself if you touched it. “Our schedules are very different. So are our interests these days, it seems.”

Nathalie didn’t mention the argument they’d had. She didn’t need to; both of those “reasons” were accurate and, most likely, what contributed to the tension between them.

At least on Nathalie’s side.

Right?

“I understand that,” said Maman, her voice empathetic. “My friends from the tailor shop … it’s different now that I’m not there. I saw Simone this morning when I was heading to the market. She didn’t see me, but I saw her getting off the omnibus at our stop. Probably to visit Céleste. The poor girl is getting worse, and they still don’t know what kind of illness she has.”

Céleste, innocent and at that perfect age where she should enjoy being a child, with none of the responsibilities of the adult world. No little one should be robbed of that through sickness, Nathalie thought. Yet it happened again and again. Last year one of her classmates had died from tuberculosis over the summer, and even now it didn’t seem real.

“That’s horrible,” she said, sitting at the kitchen table. Stanley hopped onto her lap. “Céleste is a sweet girl.”

Maman shook her head the way people do when a child is sick and you wish you could do something about it.

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