Page 46 of Summer of '69
In the den, she considers the whirligigs. Which one would Exalta miss the most? Probably the man on the tricycle—but what would Jessie do with it? Hide it somewhere in Little Fair? Bury it in the yard? Put it out with the trash? Exalta would immediately suspect that Jessie had taken it, and an inquisition would follow.
Then Jessie gets an idea.
She tiptoes up the stairs and down the hall to her grandmother’s room. She turns the knob, steps inside, and closes the door behind her. The room is dim and cool; Exalta keeps her curtains drawn and her air conditioner running, even though she’s not home. The rest of them are forbidden to do this—it’s wasteful!—but the rules don’t apply to Exalta because she owns the house. Kirby has long proclaimed that if she ever inherits the house, she’s going to run the air conditioners full blast all day, every day.
Jessie takes a look around. She has been in this room only a few times before. There are two twin beds, side by side. They are so high off the ground that Exalta uses a step stool to reach hers. There’s an armoire and a dressing table on top of which is a three-sided mirror, a silver hairbrush, and a matching hand mirror.
Jessie lifts the hand mirror. It’s an antique, engraved on the back with Exalta’s mother’s initials,KFB, for Katharine Fox Baskett.
Over by the closet door is a triangular table on which Exalta keeps her jewelry. She brings only a few pieces with her because Nantucket is casual, and the rings she keeps in the porcelain boxes at home, for example, would be out of place here. But there on the table is the burgundy velvet box. When Jessie opens the box, she sees her gold-knot necklace with the diamond.
Jessie removes the necklace from the box but leaves the box itself, closed, on the triangular table. Then Jessie tiptoes out of the room and hurries back to Little Fair, where she wraps the necklace in a hankie and tucks the hankie into her drawstring purse. She will wear the necklace to dinner.
It isn’t really stealing, Jessie tells herself, because the necklace ishers. But taking it without Exalta’s knowledge or permission has done the trick. Jessie feels better.
Exalta leaves for her bridge game at five and Blair orders two pizzas from Vincent’s to be delivered at six. Kate and Blair exchanged words about why Blair orderedtwopizzas.
You’re enormous,Kate said bluntly.
I’m hungry, Mother,Blair responded.I’m eating for three.
Jessie puts on her blue seersucker sundress from the year before but it’s tight around the top, so Jessie has no choice but to go down to the kitchen and ask her mother and sister for help with the zipper.
“You’ve outgrown this,” Kate says.
“You’re gettingbreasts,” Blair says. She turns to Kate. “Have you bought her a bra?”
“She’s only twelve years old,” Kate says.
“Thirteen,” Jessie says. Her cheeks are burning with both embarrassment and pleasure. She’s getting breasts!
“You need to take her to Buttner’s to get her a training bra, Mother,” Blair says.
Kate sighs. “I’m not ready for this.”
“Fine.” Blair turns to Jessie. “I’ll take you.”
“Find something else to wear,” Kate says.
Jessie goes back upstairs to put on her only other choice, a white eyelet A-line sundress, which is a bit more forgiving. She secures the chain around her neck, then studies herself in the mirror. She wishes Pick were here to see her but he has already left for work. Jessie should have suggested they go to the North Shore Restaurant.
When Jessie and her mother arrive at the Mad Hatter, the maître d’ greets Kate with a bow. “Good evening, Mrs. Foley,” he says.
“Mrs.Levin,” Kate says. “Come on, now, Shep, I’ve been Mrs. Levin for fourteen years.” Her tone is light; she seems unbothered. It was a simple mistake, and Shep is an older gentleman who has known Jessie’s mother since she was Katie Nichols. But Jessie can’t help studying Shep. Does he seem like an anti-Semite?
“Of course. I’m sorry, Mrs. Levin. This must be young Jessica Levin, then. If I’m not mistaken, you’re celebrating Jessica’s birthday.”
“Yes, correct, thank you, Shep,” Kate says, and she ushers Jessie forward.
The Mad Hatter is Jessie’s favorite restaurant because walking into it feels like entering another world. There are detailed murals on the walls depicting scenes fromAlice’s Adventures in WonderlandandThrough the Looking-Glass,not only the Mad Hatter himself but also an imperious-looking Queen of Hearts, the White Rabbit, and a rendition of the Jabberwock that Jessie was afraid of when she was younger. The previous year when they came here for dinner, Tiger and Kirby told Jessie that Lewis Carroll, the author, had written the books while smoking opium.
“That’s why this world is so disturbed,” Kirby said. “It’s all about mind-altering drugs.”
“It is?” Jessie said. She wasn’t sure if they were telling her the truth; sometimes they told her things to see if she was gullible enough to believe them. Jessie had thought the Alice books were children’s stories, like “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.”
“Take the Cheshire cat, for example,” Tiger said. “Do you know why he’s smiling?”
At that point, Kate had told them to stop putting ideas in Jessie’s head, which meant, Jessie assumed, that what they were saying was true.
