Where'd You Go, Bernadette: A Novel by Maria Semple Read Free Book Online Page A

find that ridiculous, because how could that even happen?
    “Bee—” Mom said.
    “I know, I know.” I put the flute away.
    “No,” Mom said. “Is that new? I’ve never seen it before.”
    “It’s a Japanese flute called a
shakuhachi.
Mr. Kangana lent it to me from his collection. The first graders are going to sing for the parents on World Celebration Day and I’m going to accompany them. Last week, I went to rehearse, and they were just standing there singing. It was my idea they should do a little elephant dance, so I get to choreograph it.”
    “I didn’t know you’re choreographing a dance for the first graders.” Mom said. “That’s a huge deal, Bee.”
    “Not really.”
    “You need to tell me these things. Can I come?”
    “I’m not sure when it is.” I knew she didn’t like coming to school, and probably wouldn’t, so why pretend.
    We got home, and I went up to my room, and Mom did what she always did, which was go out to the Petit Trianon.
    I don’t think I’ve mentioned the Petit Trianon yet. Mom likes to get out of the house during the day, especially because Norma and her sister come to clean, and they talk really loudly to each other from room to room. Plus the gardeners come inside to weed-whack. So Mom got an Airstream trailer and had a crane lower it into the backyard. It’s where her computer is, and where she spends most of her time. I was the one who named it the Petit Trianon, after Marie Antoinette, who had a whole mini-estate built at Versailles, where she could go when she needed a break from Versailles.
    So that’s where Mom was, and I was upstairs starting my homework, when Ice Cream began barking.
    From the backyard, I heard Mom’s voice. “Can I help you with something?” she said, all dripping with sarcasm.
    There was an idiotic little shriek.
    I went to the window. Mom was standing on the lawn with Audrey Griffin and some guy in boots and overalls.
    “I didn’t think you would be home,” Audrey sputtered.
    “Apparently.” Mom’s voice was superbitchy. It was pretty funny.
    Audrey started short-circuiting about our blackberry bushes and her organic garden and the guy who had a friend with a special machine and something that needed to get done this week. Mom just listened, which made Audrey talk even faster.
    “I’ll be happy to hire Tom to remove my blackberry bushes,” Mom finally said. “Do you have a card?” A long painful silence as the guy searched his pockets.
    “It seems like we’re done,” Mom said to Audrey. “So why don’t you go back through the same hole in the fence you crawled in, and keep out of my cabbage patch.” She spun around and marched back into the Petit Trianon and shut the door.
    I was, like, Go Mom! Because here’s the thing. No matter what people say about Mom now, she sure knew how to make life funny.
    *
    From: Bernadette Fox
    To: Manjula Kapoor
    Attached, please find information for a fellow who “abates” blackberry vines. (Can you believe there’s such a thing?!) Contact him and tell him to do who-what-when-where-how he needs. I’ll pay for it all.
    *

Five minutes later, Mom followed it up with this:
    From: Bernadette Fox
    To: Manjula Kapoor
    I need a sign made. 8 feet wide by 5 feet high. Here’s what I want it to read:
PRIVATE PROPERTY
    NO TRESPASSING
    Galer Street Gnats
    Will Be Arrested
    and Hauled Off to Gnat Jail
    Make the sign itself the loudest, ugliest red, and the lettering the loudest, ugliest yellow. I’d like it placed on the western edge of my property line, at the bottom of the hill, which will be accessible once we’ve
abated
the despised blackberries. Make sure the sign is facing toward the neighbor’s yard.
    *

T UESDAY , D ECEMBER 7
    From: Manjula Kapoor
    To: Bernadette Fox
    I am confirming that the sign you would like fabricated is
eight feet wide
by
five feet high
. The gentleman I have contracted remarked it is unusually large and seems out of proportion for a residential area.
    Warm