“The most wonderful thing has happened, Clara!” Beatrice squealed when Clara walked through the front door. Clara was tempted to ask if she was rehired by the ladies on Oak Tower Trail.
“Tell me,” Clara said heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“I auditioned for a solo in the school play, and I got it!” Beatrice danced around the kitchen clapping her hands.
“Bea, that’s awesome!” Clara said. She high-fived her sister. “So tell me all about it.”
“It’s a play that the third, fourth, and fifth graders are putting on at the end of this month. We’ve been practicing for a long time already, but they didn’t give out solos until today! It’s about celebrating different cultures, and oh, Clara!” Beatrice said dreamily. “I get to sing about Switzerland!”
Clara looked at her sister doubtfully. “Switzerland? Like skiing and hot chocolate?”
Beatrice noted her sister’s sarcasm. “No Clara. Their culture,” she said.
“Like skiing and hot chocolate?” Clara asked again. This time she grinned.
“Don’t make fun, Clara! I’m singing a lovely important song about the Swiss culture.”
Clara opened her mouth to reply.
“And it doesn’t have anything to do with skiing and hot chocolate!” Beatrice exclaimed.
Clara closed her mouth and smiled. “So what about your costume, Bea? Do you have to wear anything special?”
Beatrice was reluctant to reply.
“Bea?”
“Ski gear,” she mumbled.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Clara said, and went out to collect wood for their fire.
***
Ms. Debbie stared down Clara at dinner that night. Clara felt her eyes and tried to ignore them.
“I cannot believe this weather!” Ms. Debbie exclaimed. “November and you’d think it was January.” She looked at Clara expectantly.
“Will you pass the potatoes, Ms. Debbie?” Clara asked sweetly.
Ms. Debbie grabbed the bowl with her pudgy hand and shoved it under Clara’s nose.
“I’m wrapped in three blankets in my bed, and I’m as big as a house!” she said.
Beatrice stifled a giggle.
“It’s quite all right, Beatrice,” Ms. Debbie said. “You can laugh. We all know that I’m a large woman.” She turned back to Clara. “The point is that I’ve got enough blubber on me to keep me warm in forty-degree weather wearing a bathing suit!”
Clara tried to block out the mental image of Ms. Debbie in a bathing suit.
“And I’m snuggling under mounds of blankets because even I’m freezing,” she went on.
Clara scooped the potatoes on her plate and dug in.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like for people living out on the streets,” Ms. Debbie said. “Or in houses with no heat.”
Clara rolled her eyes and put down her fork.
“Ms. Debbie, we—”
“Had a deal,” Ms. Debbie finished.
“I like sleeping next to the fire,” Beatrice said. “It’s very romantic.”
“Beatrice, I’m sure it is not,” Ms. Debbie said flatly. She looked back at Clara. “So?”
“Ms. Debbie, you’re the one who came up with the plan. I don’t remember agreeing to it,” Clara said.
“Clara Greenwich!” Ms. Debbie huffed.
“I’m close to paying off the electric bill,” Clara lied. “But I told you that we would stay over if it got unbearable. It’s not unbearable yet.”
Ms. Debbie drummed her fingers on the table. “You are one stubborn child,” she concluded after a moment. “You get that from your mother, you know.”
Clara made a mental note of yet another bad trait she inherited from her mom. She sat through an hour listening to Ms. Debbie go on and on about the importance of heat when you live in a state where it snows. Clara tried hard to understand what snow had to do with it. Plenty of other places in the world without snow had cold seasons. She realized Ms. Debbie wasn’t trying to sound like an expert on anything. She just wanted to scare Clara into living with her. Clara knew Ms. Debbie’s persistence was fueled by love and concern, but she had all she could take.
“Bea, I’ll meet you at home in a minute,” Clara said after dinner as Beatrice opened the front door. She nodded and left. Clara waited a few moments before rounding on Ms. Debbie. “Did I inherit anything good from my mom?”
Ms. Debbie was taken aback. “What?”
“You heard me,” Clara said. “Bea’s telling me I’ve got no self-confidence. You’re telling me I’m stubborn. I just want to know if I inherited anything good.”
“Clara,” Ms. Debbie said gently. “What a thing to say.”
“And there’s my answer!” Clara yelled. She didn’t mean to yell. It just came out.
“What are you talking about?”
“You can’t think of anything to say! There’s nothing good here,” she said jabbing her thumb into her chest. Her anger grew, and she knew the longer she stayed the more likely it would be that she’d say something she would later regret.
“There’s plenty of good in you,” Ms. Debbie said. “You’re responsible and loyal. You have a caring heart. You work hard. You’re a very good role model for your sister, Clara. I only made the stubborn comment because I’m worried about you. Why do you keep trying to do everything on your own? You won’t even let me offer my shower to you and Beatrice.”
“You’re not my mother,” Clara spat. “You’re not my grandmother. Stop acting like you are.”
“Clara, I’m not going to let you talk to me like that in my own house,” Ms. Debbie said. “I know I’m not your mother. If I were your mother, I would have never left you. And if I were your grandmother, I’d spank you for being so disrespectful.”
Clara’s eyes went wide. “Ms. Debbie. You wouldn’t.”
“I would. I’d paddle you until you couldn’t sit down.”
Clara stared at her neighbor, the image of being spanked at seventeen playing over in her mind until she giggled.
“Oh, that’s funny?” Ms. Debbie asked.
“No,” Clara replied, but she giggled anyway.
Ms. Debbie cracked a smile.