Read View from Saturday (9781439132012) for Free Online

Mrs. Draper, and I would neither know nor care that she had a grandson Ethan.
    â€œWhen will this happen?” I asked.
    â€œAfter sunset, as usual,” Grandpa replied, looking at me curiously, for he knew I knew.
    â€œOh, that is too bad,” I said. “Dad is picking me up before supper, and he will be disappointed if I do not eat with him.”
    Grandpa said that he would call Dad at work and have him stop over so that he, too, could watch. And before I could tell them the real truth—that I would rather not attend at all—they had Dad on the telephone and everything was arranged. I was not angry, but I was seriously annoyed.
    That afternoon the four of us went to the pool. I had to leave Ginger back at the apartment because dogs were not allowed at poolside. I had not brought my bathing suit, so I had to sit by the pool while the others swam. Margaret said that she was sorry that she did not have a bathing suit to lend me. “I don’t think mine will fit,” she said. I think she was attempting to make a joke because she smiled when she said it.
    I do not know who, besides Margaret herself, any bathing suit of hers would fit. She had what the catalogs call “a mature figure,” and she was not at all self-conscious about it or the starbursts of tiny blue veins on both her inner and outer thighs. Bubbe Frieda had never been
zaftig,
but she had had the good taste to wear what is called “a dressmaker bathing suit.” It had a little skirt and a built-in bra. Ofcourse, my bubbe’s bathing suit never got wet, and Margaret did forty-two laps.
    Ethan practiced a few dives. Grandpa coached him. Then they came and sat by me. I was curious to know if Ethan’s trip had been planned long before they announced it. I asked him if he had changed planes in Atlanta. He said that he had. “On my flight out of Atlanta, there were seven unaccompanied minors,” I said.
    He smiled. “There were only five on mine. I guess I was a little late in the season.”
    â€œDid you have an advance reservation?” I asked.
    â€œYes,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
    â€œI was just wondering,” I said. I did not tell him what I was wondering about. “When you travel with a pet,” I added, “you must plan in advance. The worst part of my trip was worrying about Ginger. She had to fly as baggage. We were advised to tranquilize her and put her in a dog carrier. Ginger had never been tranquilized before, and she has been dopey all week. She is just now getting back to her real self. I promised her that I will not do that again.”
    â€œHow will you get her back?”
    â€œI am going to talk to her and tell her to be quiet so that I do not have to tranquilize her.”
    â€œMaybe you just gave her too strong a dose.”
    â€œMaybe. But I do not care to experiment. She will make the trip just fine. Ginger is a genius.”
    â€œSomeone has written a book about the intelligence of animals. Border collies are smartest.”
    â€œGinger would not be listed. She is a mixed breed. Like me.”
    â€œWhat’s your mix?”
    â€œHalf-Jewish; half-Protestant.”
    â€œThat’s good,” he said. “Like corn. It’s called hybrid vigor.”
    I took that as a compliment, but I did not thank him for it. “Are you a hybrid?” I asked.
    â€œNot at all. The only claim my family has to hybridization is right there,” he said, pointing to Margaret. “Grandma Draper is a thoroughbred Protestant, and Izzy is a thoroughbred Jew. But they don’t plan on breeding.”
    I think I blushed.
    Margaret was in charge of fifteen permitted volunteers. That meant that if she could not do the turtle patrol, one of them could. Permitted volunteers were licensed to move a nest or dig out a nest after the eggs had hatched, but they had to be supervised by her. All fifteen of Margaret’s permitteds, plus friends