Monella was one thing: grim and tragic. But a fourth-grade Sunday school teacher was something else again.
"Here. Turn right here. This is their street, and their apartment is halfway down the block. It must be that tall building there. Yeah, look, that's Daphne on the front steps, with the umbrella."
Uncle George parked at the curb in front of Daphne's apartment building. He reached over, across Anastasia, and opened the door on her side.
Daphne grinned, waved, and came over to the car. She was wearing her huge white shirt, the one that made her look vaguely like archangel Gabriel, over a pair of jeans, and she was holding an enormous black umbrella.
"This is my Uncle George," Anastasia said proudly. "Uncle George, this is my friend Daphne Bellingham."
"Hi," Daphne said, and she looked at Anastasia. The look meant: you're right. Clark Gable.
"What time would you like me to pick you up, Anastasia?" Uncle George hadn't even stopped the car motor.
"Aren't you coming in? I bet Daphne would love for you to meet her very lovely mother. Especially since you and her mother have so much in common," Anastasia said.
"Yeah, I would," Daphne agreed. "Come in and have a cup of coffee. That's why I brought the umbrella out, to help you get from the car to the front door."
Uncle George made several polite, Clark Gablelike attempts to leave. If this had been
Gone with the Wind,
he would have said, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." But Anastasia and Daphne continued to hold the car door open, until finally he took the keys out of the ignition. "Just for a minute," he said, and he followed the girls into the building and upstairs to the second floor, where Daphne lived.
7
"
Rats,
" said Anastasia gloomily, "it didn't work. I'm sorry to say this, but your mother really acted like a jerk, Daphne."
"I think she's mentally disturbed," Daphne said matter-of-factly. "She used to act fairly normal. But now she's rude to everybody, the way she was to your Uncle George. Boy, will she be mad when she gets her sanity back and realizes she was rude to someone who looks just like Clark Gable."
They were in Daphne's bedroom in the apartment. It was smaller than her old bedroom had been, with just a tiny closet and one window. And it had hideous wallpaper: pale green, with ladies in hoop skirts, holding parasols beside a lake. But on the whole it wasn't a bad bedroom. Daphne had moved all of her stuff, so that the atmosphere hadn't changed; her posters were there on the walls, and her big stuffed dragon still sat on her bed, the way he had in the old house.
But it was true that Daphne's mother had changed. A
lot.
Back in the old days, when she was the wife of the Congregational minister, she really
acted
like the wife of the Congregational minister. Daphne and Anastasia had both thought she was pretty boring. She sang in the church choir; she served tea to the Altar Guild; she played bridge; she even taught Sunday school for a while. That was weird, Anastasia thought; Mrs. Bellingham had probably attended Sunday school teacher meetings with the very woman who was going to become her husband's girlfriend.
She flopped down on Daphne's bed beside the stuffed dragon and said, "I just had a weird thought. Your mother taught Sunday school right along with the woman who was going to become your father's girlfriend. And she didn't even know it."
Daphne flopped down beside her, on the other side of the dragon. "Yeah, they were friends. So what? Why is that weird?"
"Well," Anastasia said slowly, "it has ramifications."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning that you and I, at this very moment, could already know the people who are going to play a role in our future. We might know the people we're going to marry, for example."
Daphne made a face. "Speak for yourself.
I'm
not ever going to get married."
"You might change your mind. You used to have a crush on Eddie Fox."
"A crush, sure. Marriage, that's something else again. Look what happened to my
"Here. Turn right here. This is their street, and their apartment is halfway down the block. It must be that tall building there. Yeah, look, that's Daphne on the front steps, with the umbrella."
Uncle George parked at the curb in front of Daphne's apartment building. He reached over, across Anastasia, and opened the door on her side.
Daphne grinned, waved, and came over to the car. She was wearing her huge white shirt, the one that made her look vaguely like archangel Gabriel, over a pair of jeans, and she was holding an enormous black umbrella.
"This is my Uncle George," Anastasia said proudly. "Uncle George, this is my friend Daphne Bellingham."
"Hi," Daphne said, and she looked at Anastasia. The look meant: you're right. Clark Gable.
"What time would you like me to pick you up, Anastasia?" Uncle George hadn't even stopped the car motor.
"Aren't you coming in? I bet Daphne would love for you to meet her very lovely mother. Especially since you and her mother have so much in common," Anastasia said.
"Yeah, I would," Daphne agreed. "Come in and have a cup of coffee. That's why I brought the umbrella out, to help you get from the car to the front door."
Uncle George made several polite, Clark Gablelike attempts to leave. If this had been
Gone with the Wind,
he would have said, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." But Anastasia and Daphne continued to hold the car door open, until finally he took the keys out of the ignition. "Just for a minute," he said, and he followed the girls into the building and upstairs to the second floor, where Daphne lived.
7
"
Rats,
" said Anastasia gloomily, "it didn't work. I'm sorry to say this, but your mother really acted like a jerk, Daphne."
"I think she's mentally disturbed," Daphne said matter-of-factly. "She used to act fairly normal. But now she's rude to everybody, the way she was to your Uncle George. Boy, will she be mad when she gets her sanity back and realizes she was rude to someone who looks just like Clark Gable."
They were in Daphne's bedroom in the apartment. It was smaller than her old bedroom had been, with just a tiny closet and one window. And it had hideous wallpaper: pale green, with ladies in hoop skirts, holding parasols beside a lake. But on the whole it wasn't a bad bedroom. Daphne had moved all of her stuff, so that the atmosphere hadn't changed; her posters were there on the walls, and her big stuffed dragon still sat on her bed, the way he had in the old house.
But it was true that Daphne's mother had changed. A
lot.
Back in the old days, when she was the wife of the Congregational minister, she really
acted
like the wife of the Congregational minister. Daphne and Anastasia had both thought she was pretty boring. She sang in the church choir; she served tea to the Altar Guild; she played bridge; she even taught Sunday school for a while. That was weird, Anastasia thought; Mrs. Bellingham had probably attended Sunday school teacher meetings with the very woman who was going to become her husband's girlfriend.
She flopped down on Daphne's bed beside the stuffed dragon and said, "I just had a weird thought. Your mother taught Sunday school right along with the woman who was going to become your father's girlfriend. And she didn't even know it."
Daphne flopped down beside her, on the other side of the dragon. "Yeah, they were friends. So what? Why is that weird?"
"Well," Anastasia said slowly, "it has ramifications."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning that you and I, at this very moment, could already know the people who are going to play a role in our future. We might know the people we're going to marry, for example."
Daphne made a face. "Speak for yourself.
I'm
not ever going to get married."
"You might change your mind. You used to have a crush on Eddie Fox."
"A crush, sure. Marriage, that's something else again. Look what happened to my
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