The Arrivals: A Novel by Meg Mitchell Moore

Author:Meg Mitchell Moore
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FIC000000
ISBN: 9780316122757
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2011-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

“What’s the news from Tom?” Ginny said to Lillian later that day. Despite the heat, they were making dough for cookies for the church bake sale. Olivia was standing on a footstool at the counter, wearing a gigantic apron that said “Kiss the Cook.”

“Don’t touch your nose,” said Lillian, ignoring her mother’s question. “If you touch your nose you have to march right back in the bathroom and wash your hands all over again.”

“I didn’t,” said Olivia.

“In the bowl,” said Ginny, handing Olivia a measuring cup full of sugar. Olivia dumped it in. “Good,” said Ginny. She had a speck of flour on her chin.

Ginny peered at Lillian. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” said Lillian. “What wouldn’t be all right?”

“It just seems odd,” said Ginny, “that Tom hasn’t called much. You’ve been here for weeks.”

“He calls on the cell phone,” says Lillian. She checked to see how carefully Olivia was listening. “Late at night.”

“Aren’t you sleeping late at night?”

“Not always.”

When she went for drinks with Heather two nights prior, her friend had said, “Don’t you think he deserves to talk to Olivia, at least?” They had sat outside the restaurant on Church Street where Heather used to work and ordered drinks with tropical names that came with patterned paper umbrellas.

“No,” said Lillian shortly. “He deserves nothing.”

“But—”

“Nothing,” said Lillian.

Now Olivia dipped her hand into the batter and extracted a chocolate chip.

“Don’t,” said Lillian and Ginny in chorus.

“I didn’t,” said Olivia.

“You did, though,” said Lillian.

“But I didn’t mean to.” She worked her mouth into a pout and her lips began to tremble.

“Oh, eat the chip,” said Lillian. “I guess the world won’t end.” She held the electric mixer in one hand and searched with the other hand for the beaters.

“Wrong drawer,” said Ginny. “Top left.”

“Got it,” said Lillian.

“Grandma,” said Olivia. “When can I eat a cookie?”

“You have to bake them first, my love,” said Ginny. “Do you think he’ll come up?”

“Who?”

Ginny sighed. “Tom.”

“Oh. I don’t know. Sometime, I guess. He’s very busy at work.”

“Who?” said Olivia.

“Daddy. He’s got a huge project going on. He can’t afford the time.”

“Beat, Lillian,” said Ginny.

Lillian turned on the mixer and they all peered into the bowl.

“Now we roll the balls,” said Ginny. She held out a spoon to Olivia and laid three baking sheets on the counter. “That’s the best part! Like Play-Doh.”

“Can I eat a ball?” said Olivia.

“Not until they’re cooked.”

“Then can I eat a ball?”

“Then they won’t be balls anymore,” said Lillian. “They’ll be cookies.”

“I want them to be balls,” said Olivia.

“Either way,” said Ginny. “Let’s get them in the oven.” She dipped her hands into the bowl, rolled, dipped again. After she put the first batch in she closed the oven door triumphantly, then turned around. “You,” she said to Olivia. “Off the stool, and into the bathroom to wash up. The apron stays here.”

After Olivia had gone Ginny turned to face Lillian and said, “Lillian. If there’s something—”

“There’s nothing,” said Lillian shortly.

“But if there’s something.”

“Mom! There’s nothing,” said Lillian. “It’s summer. You live by a lake.

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