I laughed. “I’m excited! Haven’t you ever wanted to see a cherry farm?”
“I’m from Michigan.”
Somehow I hadn’t thought of there being cherries in East Detroit. “Well, I’m from New Hampshire and I’m going.”
“How are you going to get there?”
I knew what he was thinking. He didn’t want me in the car with Nelson. Men were not impossible to decipher. “Pallace will lend me her car.” I wasn’t certain of this but the more times I said it, the more it seemed true.
He looked at me another minute and then finally smiled. Maybe he was happy for my happiness. Maybe he still hoped Nelson would give him a part in another play later. Maybe hereally just wanted to keep an eye on me. “If it’s going to be that much fun we should all go together, the four of us. That would be all right with you and Nelson, wouldn’t it? If it’s not a date?”
I rolled my eyes at the stupidity of it all. “It’s not a date.” And it wasn’t. But that didn’t mean I was supposed to show up with three extra people.
“Good!” Duke cried. “Then it’s settled. We’ll all drive up in the morning to see the director’s cherry farm.”
“The cherry farm!” Emily cries, and Maisie and Nell raise their fists in the air.
Parts of this story they already know, and this is one of them. The stories that are familiar will always be our favorites.
12
It had rained all morning but by the time we’d finished breakfast the sun was out. Sebastian said that he should drive to Traverse City, his Plymouth had a big back seat, and so we piled into the car, boys in front, girls in back. We rolled down the windows, waving goodbye to everyone we passed. Goodbye, Tom Lake! None of us had been farther away than the coffee shop in town since we arrived, none of us except Sebastian, who had an entire life about which we had no curiosity. Ubiquitous fruit stands lined the road and I wanted him to pull over so that I would have a gift to bring to Nelson’s aunt and uncle, a pie or some flowers, something more than three uninvited guests.
“These people own anorchard,” Duke shouted, the wind reaching inside the car to carry his voice away. “All that stuff at a fruit stand is the stuff they’re trying to get rid of.”
“What good. Is sitting. Alonein yourroom,” Pallace sang absently. I could see Sebastian’s eyes go to her in the rearview mirror. The sound of her voice called him like a bell.
“You should have been Sally Bowles,” I said, because even though that German-looking girl who played Sally was pretty extraordinary, I had no doubt Pallace would have been better.
Half of Pallace’s face was hidden behind her enormous black Jackie Onassis sunglasses. Who knew what she was looking at. “I should have been a lot of things,” she said.
“I coulda been a contender.” Duke said it like Brando,conTENdaah.
It was fun to be in the car, fun to be together and going somewhere other than rehearsal. I saw an antique store up ahead and leaned forward to tap on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Stop, please.”
“No!” Duke cried. “Antique stores are worse than fruit stands. They’re full of things the grown children had to sell off when their parents died so they could put the farm on the market.”
“You just keep raining on that parade,” Pallace said.
Sebastian stopped the car.
Duke turned to Pallace, leaning over the seat. “Don’t let her out.”
But I was out. I’d been invited to lunch by our director and I’d be damned if I was going to arrive without a gift. Just inside the door, on top of a glass display case, a dozen linen napkins with cutwork around the edge were sitting in a basket waiting for me. They were a blue nearly pale enough to be white, nicely ironed. I knew very little when I was young but I knew the role of Emily and I knew fabric. These were good napkins. I counted them slowly, looking for stains and finding none. As a bonus, they were expensive, and that pleased me more than anything.
“You must have come in looking for these,” the woman at the cash register said when I handed them over.
Two minutes later I was back in the car.
“Let me see!” Pallace held out her hands. Sebastian turned in his seat to look.
“Napkins!” Duke cried. “They must have seen you coming. Napkins are for tourists. First they try to unload a tractor on you, then they bring out the napkins.” He clutched his head as Pallace held a single napkin up to the light.
“I can’t imagine anything nicer than these,” she said.
Sebastian waited until the napkins were back in their bag so they wouldn’t all blow out the window once we started drivingagain. Pallace sang single lines of show tunes along the way and we guessed the musical. (“Because it’sJUUUNE! June-June-June.”) Duke recited pieces of dialogue and we guessed the play. (“Always tell the truth, George; it’s the easiest thing to remember.”) Duke was crackerjack at memorization. He believed in memorizing any part he wanted, both for the discipline of it and to make sure he would always be ready. “You never know when something’s going to open up,” he said.
“What’s your secret talent?” I shouted to Sebastian.
