Gram fussed over Doni.
She called her Doni, which the fuzzy-headed, exhausted, brave little critter
seemed to like. From the moment the family lawyer retrieved her from the
authorities who had custody of her after the accident, she had been hearing
"London," spoken with tones of disapproval and command. Later, when
she had nightmares and talked in her sleep about those horrid months of hanging
in limbo, I learned no one ever sent her out of the room before they talked
about what a burden and bother she was.
The rest of the
morning was spent in getting Doni settled in the room next to mine, digging
through the attic and the cellar for some furniture, getting her a long soak in
the old-fashioned claw-foot tub with orange-scented bath salts, and then
filling her up with a huge breakfast feast. Gram was just like Mrs. Zephyr, and
believed in healing through lots of good cooking.
Doni was pretty quiet
the whole time we got her settled. Every once in a while, I looked over and saw
her lip trembling a little, but she never cried, never whined, never said much
of anything. She also never smiled, except when Gram hugged her and Uncle Jinx
swore for three minutes straight after hearing how the Hallidays didn't even
have the decency to deliver a nine-year-old when they relinquished custody of
her. They sent her by plane, alone, and then she figured out how to take a bus
from the airport. I think the fact that someone got really cussing hot furious
on her behalf raised her self-esteem about fifty points.
After Doni's bath, Gram sent us to Divine's Emporium to do some shopping. She wanted Doni to decorate her new room to suit herself, and get more furniture than just a bed, a chest of drawers, and some shelves. Besides, wandering around Divine's would distract both of us while she and Uncle Jinx got to work on tying up all the legal details. Gram went to school with Mr. Carr of Carr, Cooper and Crenshaw, the big-wig law firm in town, so he was our family lawyer.
No comments:
Post a Comment