Jane Smiley - Early Warning

Andy was waiting at the gate. Minnie saw her gaze take in Annie and then switch to her as she stepped forward and held out her arms. Minnie gave her a brief hug, and Andy said, “What a bright and cheerful outfit you have on.”

Andy herself was wearing slender high-heeled boots, black stockings, and a black belted wool coat, way beyond cheerful. Minnie began to see the humorous side of this visit.

Andy said, “Arthur and Lillian should be here by dinner. Nedra is making a leg of lamb. Is that all right? So many of Janet’s friends nearly pass out at the idea of eating a poor little lamb. Annie, you look so much like your aunt Claire. Are these your bags? I’ve parked right out front. So easy. Newark is much more accessible than LaGuardia. Frank should be home when we get there. I thought when he got out of the oil business he would be home more. I thought weapons would have a more relaxed schedule.” She took the keys out of her purse and left Minnie and Annie to wrestle their bags into the trunk of the Cadillac, yellow with a black convertible top.

The trip from the airport was a lesson in the steepness of the socioeconomic slope on the Eastern Seaboard. Seventeen miles, according to the odometer, that began in industrial wasteland, ended in pastures of heaven. The driveway was long, and heavily shaded. Andy pulled up in front of a sprawling contemporary house with overhanging eaves and tall, narrow windows. It looked like the Frank Lloyd Wright house in Mason City, though not quite as dark and heavy. Andy and Annie tromped right in, but Minnie stopped to gaze at the blooming forsythia. She saw over the hedge that the neighbors had both a tennis court and a swimming pool. She vowed not to look impressed. Nedra came out of the kitchen and said, “How are you, Miss Frederick? I put you in the upstairs guest room.”

Minnie’s outfit clashed with every item of furniture in the whole house, so she changed into plain old black trousers and a navy-blue sweater. She was coming down the staircase when Frank walked in. She hadn’t seen him since Claire’s wedding. He looked gaunt, she thought. When he took off his hat, he was bald over the top. She had only time to think that the shape of his head was quite attractive before he glanced her way and smiled.

He said, “I sense a lurker in the bushes.”

“Just an old nanny goat chewing a few leaves.”

He gave her a warm hug. Andy appeared with a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She said, “She made Baked Alaska.”

“Oh, I love that,” said Minnie.

“The Bergstroms invented Baked Alaska back in Eidsvoll, in 1234,” said Andy.

“Really?” exclaimed Minnie.

“No. But they called it a Norski omelette. My aunt always spread the sponge cake with lingonberry jam.” She sipped her drink. Frank kissed her on the forehead and went to the back of the house.

Andy said, “Bourbon, Scotch, vodka, gin, Burgundy, beer?”

“What are you having?”

“Old Fashioned. Only one. Only one. Only one.” Andy smiled.

Minnie said, “Maybe later.”

Andy turned the ice in her glass with her finger, then said, “How is everyone?”

“Fine,” said Minnie. “How do the boys like their military school?”

“Oh, they don’t. That’s the point. They had to go somewhere where the adults are one step ahead of them.”

“But they’re doing all right? That place has a good reputation for keeping the kids active and organized.”

“I would have sent them to Summerhill, in England—”

“Good heavens,” said Minnie.

“My psychiatrist knows A. S. Neill and respects him. He’s withstood lots of unfair criticism. Frank wouldn’t hear of it, though.”

Minnie was glad of that.

Now Frank came in from the back of the house, just as the door opened to reveal Tina and, behind her, Janet. Tina was wearing black trousers and a shirt dyed black with woodcut flowers in blue and green. Over this, a cape, also in black, that fell to her knees. She was a petite version of Arthur — brown hair, brown eyes — but serious, not playful. Janet had all of a sudden matured. She was Joe as a girl — blue eyes, serious face, full lips, gentle mouth. She was wearing navy-surplus pants with bell bottoms and thirteen buttons, a black turtleneck sweater, and a navy-surplus peacoat. Her hair was nearly to her waist, dark blond now. Janet glanced around, and the look on her face said, as clear as a shout, “Oh, this place again. What a dump.” It was the most beautiful house Minnie had ever seen.

Lillian bustled in, her hand on Arthur’s arm, then came right over and put her arms around Minnie as if Minnie had weathered blizzards to get here. No one in Iowa knew quite what had happened to Arthur — some sort of nervous breakdown, some famous hospital, out for the summer, back in for a month in the late fall, out now. Always “not bad, improving,” according to Rosanna, according to Lillian. Timmy’s death, it would have been. Rosanna said, “I saw this coming,” and Joe said, “Funny you never said a word about it.” But when he gave Minnie a hug and Andy a peck on the cheek, Arthur was grinning in his usual way, pulling off his hat and gloves, already talking about a VW bus they had seen on the highway, painted like a landscape, green with flowers around the bottom, blue along the roof, faces painted on the windows. “When it passed us, the face in the back window was screaming,” said Arthur. His hair was completely gray.

“Dad wanted to follow it into the Joyce Kilmer Plaza and trade the station wagon for it,” said Tina.

“Straight up,” said Arthur. “Kids thrown in, if need be.”

Everyone laughed.

The lamb was delicious, and so were the au-gratin potatoes and the asparagus with Mornay sauce. Minnie and Annie had wolfed theirs down before Minnie noticed that everyone else was picking politely. Janet took no lamb at all. Andy seemed to have begun another Old Fashioned.

Arthur and Lillian kept up the conversation, with occasional assists from Tina, who otherwise sat by Annie and whispered to her about rock bands. Annie preferred Creedence Clearwater Revival, but Tina was still loyal to the Stones. Annie said, “I really like your T-shirt.” Tina said, “I made four of them. I can send you one.” Please do, thought Minnie.

“Where are you girls going to college?” said Andy. Minnie wondered if she was mixed up — the kids were only sophomores.

“Rhode Island School of Design,” said Tina.

“She’s already working on her portfolio,” said Lillian. “She’s been working on her portfolio for ten years.”

Annie didn’t say anything.

Minnie said, “It’s so funny that all of you were born within a couple of months of one another.”

Andy said, “It’s like a genetic experiment.”

Frank said, “Boys take a while, no matter what.”

Lillian said, “How tall are Richie and Michael now? Dean is six four. I don’t know where that comes from.”

Frank said, “I was six feet by the time I was their age. I think Richie is five ten and Michael is a little taller. Michael outweighs Richie by fifteen pounds, and it’s all muscle. He’s a true mesomorph. Richie’s a bit of an ectomorph.” He seemed to disapprove of that. Nedra appeared from the kitchen, saw all the food left on the platters, and put her hands on her hips. Minnie said, “My goodness, that was delicious. Thank you, Nedra.” Nedra gave a nod.

Andy said, “She always makes an effort when Frank is going to be home.”

Yikes, thought Minnie.

A tiny muscle beside Frank’s right eye twitched.

Arthur said, “Yes, delicious.” He had his arm across the back of Lillian’s chair in a relaxed but possessive way, and, maybe without even knowing it, he glanced fondly at her. Well, everyone could see which marriage the old maid should envy.