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She was ready to go downstairs now. She pulled the baseball cap on, even though it was too hot for a hat. She had the image of Greta setting out lunch, and it seemed deeply comforting to her.
“Nice to see you down here a little early,” Greta said happily.
Bridget flopped into a kitchen chair. “I’m going to start painting tomorrow, if that’s okay.”
“You’re going to paint it? Yourself? Have you painted before?”
Bridget shook her head. “But I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. How hard could it be?”
Greta smiled at her. “You’re a good girl and a very hard worker.”
It jumped into Bridget’s head to say “Thanks, Grandma,” and she was surprised at herself.
With a sense of peace, she watched Greta set out their lunch. It had evolved over the summer. Now there were carrots every day, and sometimes sharp cheddar cheese or turkey instead of bologna. Bridget knew Greta watched her very carefully, mentally recording her moods and her preferences. But even as the menu changed, lunch was always at the same time, on the same plates, with the same yellow paper napkins. That was how Greta had been before, too, Bridget realized. That was how it had been in this house long ago.
“My Marly had two children, did you know that?” Greta said as she watched Bridget finishing her sandwich.
Bridget swallowed hard. “You mentioned before that you had a granddaughter.”
“Yes, Marly’s daughter. Marly had twins. A girl and a boy.”
Bridget pulled a thread at the hem of her shorts rather than pretend to look surprised by this information.
“I guess the babies came around two and a half years after they were married.”
Bridget nodded, still looking down.
“Pregnancy agreed with Marly. It was a happy time for her. But oh, my, when they arrived.” Greta shook her head at the memory. “Twins. Can you imagine? When one needed to eat, the other needed to sleep. When one needed inside, the other needed outside. I moved in with them for the first six months.”
Bridget glanced up. “Did you really?”
“Sure,” Greta said. Her face was thoughtful. “Only, looking back, I wished I’d done less and taught more. Marly struggled after I left.”
No matter how it had gone after that, Bridget felt her first six months on earth must have been comfortable if Greta had been there.
“I adored those children,” Greta said, shaking her head. She had tears in her eyes, and Bridget feared for her own eyes. “That little girl. She came into the world with a point of view, I’ll tell you.”
Bridget considered the deep fraudulence of sitting there listening to her grandmother talk about her. But she suddenly wanted to know this. It felt good.
“She had a little face you could die for,” Greta said, and then she seemed to regret her way of putting it. “She had a real feisty personality, too. She was stubborn and independent, and she could do anything she wanted the first time she tried it. My Lord, her grandfather thought the sun rose and set on that child.”
Bridget just listened, hoping it was okay if she didn’t nod or even look up. This was what she had wanted, what she had come here for: knowledge at a distance. Only it didn’t feel distant anymore.
“I think it was hard on the little boy sometimes. He was quieter and more cautious. He got a little lost, what with the mighty Bee marching around.”
Bridget flinched at the mention of her name. She felt sad for Perry. She knew that was how it had been his whole life.
Greta’s eyes wandered to the clock on the kitchen wall. “Oh my. Listen to me, talking and talking. You probably want to get back to work, don’t you.”
Bridget didn’t want to at all. She wanted to stay there and listen to Greta. But she made herself stand up. “Yeah, gosh, it’s late, huh?”
Bridget paused in the doorway. She didn’t want to go back up just now. “I better get some paint,” she said.
Greta’s eyes lit up. “Yes! How ’bout I run you over to Wal-Mart in the car?”
Bridget liked that idea. “Perfect,” she said.
Tibby saw a yellow note in her mail slot in the dorm lobby. It told her she had received two packages, and that the RA had them. Tibby didn’t relish a visit to Vanessa, with her toys and her moles. Vanessa’s room was a favorite target of scorn for Maura. On the other hand, Tibby had a filmmaker’s curiosity prodding her to at least get a look at the place.
“Come in,” Vanessa called when Tibby knocked.
Tibby swung the door open slowly. Vanessa got up from her desk chair and came to the door.
“Hi. Um … Tibby, right? Did you come for your packages?”
“Yeah,” Tibby said, trying to get a look around Vanessa.
Vanessa seemed to sense this. “Would you like to come in?” she asked politely.
Vanessa was wearing a Williamston T-shirt and a pair of high-waisted old-lady jeans. She seemed nervous as Tibby followed her into the room. Tibby couldn’t help wondering why such a socially awkward person had put herself up for the job of RA.
Vanessa looked for the packages, while Tibby looked at the room. The light wasn’t very bright, so objects presented themselves slowly. There were indeed a lot of stuffed animals. All over the shelves and the bed. But as Tibby studied them more closely, she realized they weren’t the usual sappy Gund bears and Beanie Babies. They weren’t like any stuffed animals she had seen before. In spite of herself, Tibby moved closer to an armadillo hunched in the bookcase.
“Could I look at this?” Tibby asked.
“Sure,” Vanessa said.
“God. It’s … got so many parts,” Tibby said, amazed, as she pulled back the layers of thick, pebbly fabric that made the shell.
“I know. It took me forever.”
Tibby turned to stare at her in disbelief. “You made this?”
Vanessa nodded. Her face turned pink. She held out Tibby’s packages.
Absently Tibby took her packages and put them on the bed. “You sewed this?”
Vanessa nodded.
Tibby felt her eyes opening as she looked at all the other creatures around the room—brilliantly colored toucans, koala bears, a two-toed sloth hanging from the closet door. “You didn’t make all these,” she breathed.
Vanessa nodded.
“Really?”
Vanessa shrugged. She was trying to figure out if Tibby was impressed or if Tibby thought she was psychotic.
“They are … unbelievable,” Tibby said sincerely. “I mean, they’re great. They’re so beautiful.”
Vanessa smiled, although her arms remained protectively around her middle.
Tibby picked up a vibrant yellow frog with black spots. She wasn’t thinking when she heard herself say, “God, my little brother would love this. He would go nuts.”
Vanessa loosened her arms. She laughed a little. “Really? How old is he?”
“He’s almost three and a half,” Tibby said, beginning to remember where she was and why she was there. She returned the armadillo and the frog to their places and picked up her packages.
“Thanks a lot,” she said, moving toward the door. Her stomach was churning in an uncomfortable way.
“Oh, you’re welcome,” Vanessa said. Tibby’s praise had changed Vanessa’s posture.
“Uh, Tibby,” Vanessa said to her back.
Tibby turned her head. “Yeah?”
“Sorry I haven’t been by your room or anything. I’m … not exactly the greatest RA.”
Tibby turned her body too. Looking at Vanessa’s earnest face and her loyal T-shirt, Tibby suddenly felt like crying. She couldn’t stand Vanessa thinking she was a bad RA, even though she was. “No, you’re not. Seriously. You’re great,” Tibby lied. “If I have any questions, I know where to come,” she added lamely.
From her face, Vanessa knew Tibby didn’t mean it, although she appreciated the effort. “It covers part of tuition,” Vanessa explained.
“I love your animals, I really do,” Tibby said as she went out the door.
