God. Jadine turned over carefully to protect her raw legs. I am competing with her for rape! She thinks this place is driving her crazy; it’s making a moron out of me. Certified.
It took some time before she could fall asleep. The soap had done its job. The little feet he wanted so badly to see were clean again, peachy soft again as though they had never been touched and never themselves had touched the ground.
6
CHRISTMAS EVE’S EVE and even the goddamn hydrangea had bloomed!
The whole island was vomiting up color like a drunk and here in the corner, in plastic filtered light, was one spot of sane, refined mauve. Valerian sprayed it with water and aerated the soil around the stem. “Merry Christmas,” he said, and toasted the shy violet buds with his wineglass. Maybe Margaret was right: this would be a warm and memorable Christmas. The black man had brought luck to the greenhouse, maybe he’d bring luck to the whole celebration. Michelin would be there; Michael, Michael’s friend; that was just enough. And Margaret was sober and busy and cheerfully preoccupied with something outside herself for a change.
Valerian walked away from the hydrangea and looked out the window toward the washhouse. The washerwoman was there, bless her heart, with the yard boy. He couldn’t hear them, but they looked as though they were laughing. A nip, he thought. They’re already celebrating and have taken a Christmas nip. He liked that. That was the way a holiday ought to begin and since everything was in its place as it should be—Michael coming, Margaret cooking, hydrangea in bloom—he decided to go out there with the servants and wish them a Merry Christmas too. All that was needed was that holiday bread Grandmother Stadt used to make. Ollieballen.
“Ollieballen?”
“Yes. My grandmother used to make it at New Year.”
“The Candy Queen?” asked Margaret. “I never heard of it.”
“It’s not hard,” said Valerian. “It’s Dutch.”
“What’s it taste like?”
“Sweet. Like a doughnut.”
“We can’t serve doughnuts at dinner, Valerian.”
“It’s not for dinner, it’s for afterward. With brandy and coffee.”
“This is going to be hard enough without ollieballen.”
“Then let’s forget the whole thing.”
“No. I said I’d do it and I’m going to. Michael will get a kick out of it.”
“So will Ondine.”
“Maybe. I’ve never seen her eat anything.”
“Nobody ever sees a cook eat anything. Let’s go over the menu again. Turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans—what else?”
“The lemon whip and this ollieballen thing.”
“You can use the apples in it. It’s easier than pie and it’s traditional in our family—or it was. What about something to start? Soup or fish?”
“Valerian.”
“Something simple. You can handle it.”
“You’ll help?”
“I’ll be entertaining the guests. I can’t do both. And that’s not what you said. You said you’d do the whole dinner for everybody.”
“So how many is that? Six?”
“Seven. It’ll be fun. You’ll enjoy it. Don’t forget it was your suggestion.”
“How do you get seven?”
“B.J. has a girlfriend, doesn’t he? So there’s me, you and Michael, B.J. and his guest, Jade and Michelin. Seven. The turkey is here—beans, potatoes—nothing to it. You can make the ollieballen ahead of time. Christmas Eve.”
“You have the recipe?”
“I have it.”
“What do I need?”
“Nothing speciaclass="underline" yeast, eggs, milk, sugar, lemon, flour, raisins, apples and butter.”
“What about the lemon whip?”
“Just lemon-flavored gelatin beaten to froth and whipped cream on top. Very simple. We can have smoked fish, perhaps, to start. All that needs is parsley. The lemon whip is a light sweet for after a heavy dinner. Then coffee and brandy with the ollieballen.” Valerian spread his fingers to show how easy it was. He wanted her occupied the next few days—not sitting around in anxiety about when (or if) Michael would get there.
“Doughnuts and brandy,” she said, and shook her head.
“Margaret.”
“No, no. It’s fine. Just sounded funny that’s all.”
“They don’t have a hole in the middle.”
“Too bad,” she said. “It might inspire you.”
“I’m sorry about last night. That wasn’t why I came. I’ve been hateful and I know it. I shouldn’t have behaved that way when you found Willie up there in your closet.”
“We’ve been through all that. Forget it.”
“It worked out okay, didn’t it?”
“I suppose.”
“You should see the greenhouse now. Black magic.”
“Really?”
“Really. You should come and see. And I am sorry, Margaret. I liked what you did though.”
“Sure. We’ll do it again sometime.”
“Soon?”
“Soon.”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t work like that, Valerian. I mean I can’t just lie down in the middle of the afternoon.”
“I can. I can even kneel. Might need help getting back up, but I can do it.”
“No. Wait.”
“Margie. Marge.”
“WHAT KIND of dinner is that? I wouldn’t have it for lunch. Does she think she’s doing me a favor?”
“Stop grumbling. It’s Christmastime and for once in your life you don’t have to cook the dinner.”
“But I have to do the dishes, I bet.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Who then? You? No Mary. No Yardman. They decide not to show up without telling anybody. Everything’s on me. A pile of laundry a mile high in there. Jadine off playing games with that jailbird; guests coming…”
“I told you he already called Dr. Michelin, and Dr. Michelin said he’d get us somebody right away. Maybe not right away because they got Christmas there too, but he thinks his housekeeper can find somebody. We’ll just have to make do for a day or two. Let the laundry stay there, and get yourself organized. You are worrying the life out of me.”
“You can stop riding me any time you please. And if you expect anything at all to go right, you better quit soon.”
“You the one riding people. You been hot for days. Nothing can please you.”
“The whole house is upset. Hard to think and be nice in a house that’s upset.”
“The house is not upset. You are. Everybody else is laughing and having a good time but you. Mr. Street slept with his wife last night. You know how long it’s been since he did that? Slept in the same bed with her?”
“Slept is the word all right.”
“Don’t you believe it. They been cooing all morning.”
“I don’t care. They ought to sleep together. I never did know how he puts up with that. Whoever heard of married folks sleeping any other way but together. They can sleep anywhere they want. It’s where Jadine sleeps that bothers me.”
“She slept in her own bed.”
“I’m going to bring this basin down on your head. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Well, what you want me to do about it?”
“Talk to somebody.”
“Who?”
“Her.”
“Get away from me.”