Ada Unraveled by Barbara Sullivan Read Free Book Online Page B

deaf. And I got it. It wasn’t such a bad idea really. I must
have smiled.
    “Okay, she’s cool. So stop stalling, tell us
a secret from when you were little, something terrible,” Abigail
said to Gerry.
    “Terrible? Wow, something just popped into
my head.” She paused for effect. “My mother bit me when I was
little, only three, I think. I remember it vividly.”
    “What?” Elixchel exclaimed, and laughed.
“Why would she bite you?”
    “Because the little girl who lived next to
us was a biter, and she bit me three times—even drew blood--until I
finally bit back.”
     
    I drifted again. Into my inner thoughts.
Until Abigail’s voice snatched me back again.
    “You know, Geraldine and Marshall have an
even bigger house than Victoria’s, Rachel. How many bedrooms do you
have Gerri?” the child-quilter said, and then continued on as if
the answer wasn’t important. “You should see her house! It’s a
mansion in Rancho Santa Fe. Now that’s rich!” Where was this young
girl getting her energy? Chocolate bars? Teens ate chocolate bars,
right? I definitely needed to find her stash. I was beginning to
fade. I glanced at the food table.
    We fell to sewing again. I wanted to hear
more about Gerri’s billionaire life, but the silence was
comforting. For a few minutes. And then the talk began again.
    “When’s you’re next fund raiser? I want to
be sure to be there,” Andrea quipped.
    Without skipping a beat, Gerry replied,
“Next month. We’re working with the heads of the three major sports
organizations to raise money for ALS. It’s a terrible disease.”
    Victoria pushed back from her place at the
quilt and stood. “I’m taking a break. I’ll be back in a few
minutes.” It took her almost five minutes to travel to the door,
this time without assistance from Elixchel.
    “Do you need anything?” Elixchel called
after her as she disappeared down the hallway. Then to me she said,
“It’s really hard for her now. Being so old. Burying her husband
and best friend…”
    But the rest of Elixchel’s revelation was
cut off rather loudly by Andrea.
    “So who’s coming to the gala fund raiser?
Anyone I know?”
    They prattled on, but my head was still back
on the comment about Victoria’s husband and best friend, thinking
it must have been her best friend whose place I’d taken at the
quilt.
    But once more, I’d gotten lost in my own
thoughts and stitches again, and the conversation had moved on
without me.
    Hannah was saying, “My children are my whole
life. They are what I live for and why I do everything I do. There
is nothing more important than having children.”
    “I couldn’t agree more. Children are what
life is about,” Andrea said earnestly.
    I was surprised. Andrea didn’t seem the type
to be thinking about having children. But then I wasn’t certain
what type Andrea was yet, was I? And I couldn’t tell her age,
either. Pixies were like that. Hard to age. And hard to
typecast.
    More stitching. More aimless chatter. Until
Ruth said, “Let’s expand the quilt.”
    Victoria was retrieved, and we widened the
exposed part of the quilt again, and consequently the space between
us grew more comfortable.
    Not that this kept Andrea and Abigail from
arguing, this time over Abigail’s last name, Pustovoytenko.
    “You and Elixchel are driving us crazy with
the name changes. What’s wrong with Beardsley, Abigail? That’s your
father’s name, remember?” Andrea said.
    Abigail said, “My mother changed her name
back to Pustovoytenko and I live with her, that’s what’s wrong with
Beardsley.”
    As in Tom Beardsley, Gerry’s brother?
    “You’re breaking the connection.”
    What connection? I wanted to interrupt and
force a full explanation, but knew I should be patient. I would
understand everything about them in due course. But there were
seven women in the room whose secrets I still couldn’t follow.
    “Am not.”
    “Are. And I get that you’re mad at your dad,
but it takes