The Puzzle King by Betsy Carter

Author:Betsy Carter [Carter, Betsy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General Fiction, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 1616200162
Publisher: Algonquin
Published: 2009-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

THE SUMMER OF 1923 was a summer of firsts for Edith. She tasted a tuna fish sandwich, ogled the naked Greek boys at the Museum of Art, sipped a martini at a picnic with Seema and her friends; washed a car with Uncle Paul, and bought a brassiere with Flora. Nearly every Sunday, they’d drive to Mount Kisco for dinner at Hannah and Paul’s. Lev and Ruth were there once and treated her as if they’d known her forever. Simon said those dinners were the closest thing to Thanksgiving. And then there was the magic.

Late on the first Saturday in July, Simon announced that they would be going to a special celebration. “Have you ever seen magic up close?” he asked Edith. When she said no, he told her that she was about to see a spectacle that she would never forget.

Edith looked quizzically at Flora, who shrugged her shoulders and said, “Don’t look at me. Your uncle’s the magician.”

They drove to a park right on the Hudson River, where hundreds of people were already sprawled out on blankets. Children ran barefoot in the grass while the adults pulled sandwiches and bottles of wine from the oversized wicker baskets that they’d brought with them. Flora, Simon, and Edith sat as close to the water as they could. The sun was starting to set, leaving in its wake plumes of purple, yellow, and orange. They unpacked their own wicker basket and ate the feast that Flora had prepared: fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, baked beans, and a blueberry pie. It was almost dark by the time they finished and as Edith scraped the last of the blueberries from her plate Simon moved closer to and whispered, “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“You’ll see,” he said.

Just then, the band started to play brassy marching songs. The people on the blankets clapped their hands to the music; some sang along. A sound like a gunshot rang out before the sky exploded into neon yellows, pinks, blues, and purples. Edith jumped. Was someone shooting at them from the river? Had the sunset imploded?

Simon put his arm around her. “Happy Fourth of July,” he said, watching as her jaw hung open and the reflection of the pyrotechnics sparkled in her eyes.

Later, as they waited in traffic with the rest of the crowd, Simon explained that nearly 150 years ago, on July Fourth, the United States had signed a document making them independent from the British. “There’s nothing Americans are more proud of than their freedom,” he said.

“What about baseball?” asked Edith.

Simon laughed. “That’s my girl.” She smiled a purple blueberry smile back at him. Something tugged at his heart. It was the same feeling he had whenever he thought about his mother or his sister with the purple bow.

But miraculously, this child Edith was sitting right next to him.

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