The Recycled Citizen (27 page)

“Yes, that’s true. Nobody would have challenged him, so Osmond Loveday wouldn’t have panicked and shot him,” Theonia agreed.

“Then Mr. Loveday made his own punishment inevitable by keeping the gun,” Sarah went on. “That was a really crazy thing to do, you know, especially for someone so persnickety as he. It’s as if the pair of them were both blinded by their own cockiness. And now it’s over and Dolph and Mary are in a better position than ever to get on with their good work. Surely that’s worth a teacup.”

“Thank you, my dear. Now let’s talk about something pleasant. I still haven’t heard any details about the auction. Was it fun?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say. I slept through most of it. All I know is that Aunt Appie bought all those seaweed mottoes.”

“Oh my!” An odd expression flitted across Theonia Kelling’s superbly molded countenance.

“What’s the matter?” Sarah teased.

“I’m afraid so, dear. I have a hideous feeling Appie’s planning to give us each one of them for a Christmas present. Would you mind terribly if I smashed another teacup?”

B
ORN ON NOVEMBER 21, TO
Mr. and Mrs. Max Bittersohn of Beacon Hill and Ireson’s Landing, a son, David Josiah Kelling.

Letter from Mrs. Beddoes Kelling to Mrs. Max Bittersohn:

Darling Sarah,

Max called just after midnight with the joyful tidings … I am too, too delighted! Wanted to jump right into the car and have Heatherstone drive me straight to Phillips House, but there’s this bothersome kickoff luncheon for the Children’s Fund Drive and then the Garden Club’s Beautification Benefit … for the parks, dear, not the members, though I’m sure some of us could use a bit of titivating … but anyway, I’ll come as soon as I can. I’m simply bursting to see if Little Kell’s as handsome as his daddy and as adorable as his mummy … you were such a precious tyke, sweetie! Do remember that your old baby-sitting service is ready and eager to be reactivated at a moment’s notice. Mrs. Heatherstone is thrilled to pieces at the mere notion of filling your bunny mug again, and so am I. Take care of yourself, dear. Oceans of love to you all,

Aunt Emma

Letter from Mrs. Isaac Bittersohn to Mrs. George Gordon:

Dear Leah,

Just to let you know my daughter-in-law Sarah had her baby last night at half past eleven. Max is all excited. I hope it doesn’t wear off when he starts getting waked up in the night. It’s a boy. They’re calling him David Josiah after his two grandfathers and Kelling for her side of the family, which isn’t so bad. I’d have liked a granddaughter but at least he’s healthy, though only six and a half pounds. It would have been nice if she’d gone to a closer hospital, but what can you do?

Miriam and Ira are taking us in to see Davy Joe as soon as Ira can get away from the garage. You know how Isaac hates driving in Boston. By the way, we’re having the bris here next Thursday afternoon, so maybe you and George might like to come if you have nothing else to do.

Your sister, Bayla

Letter from Miss Mabel Kelling to Mrs. Apollonia Kelling:

Dear Appie,

There was no need for you to squander a long-distance telephone call just to inform me that Sarah’s second husband has acquired a new income-tax deduction. At least I assume that was the message my maid took down. Zeriah is tolerably efficient in some ways, but stenography is not what I pay her for.

Where on earth did Sarah get such an absurd name for the child? There hasn’t been a David nor a Josiah in the family during its entire history, to my knowledge. At least she had sense enough to insert a Kelling in the proper place so that the child can drop the Bittersohn as he will surely wish to. I hope she remembered to change her will before she went into labor, just in case, but anything so sensible probably never entered her head. We must be thankful she pulled through all right; it would have been unthinkable for those in-laws of hers to get their hands on Walter Kelling’s money.

Your aff. cousin, Mabel

Letter from Jacob Bittersohn, Esq., to Max Bittersohn:

Dear Nephew,

Mazel tov! Would you believe your father tracked me all the way to my hotel in Chicago at one o’clock in the morning your time? He said he had to phone himself because your mother was too excited to talk. That I believe! I swear to God, Max, he was crying. So was I. A grandson to carry on the family name, Isaac and I were both afraid we’d never live to see. Giving him the grandfathers’ names was another mitzvah we didn’t expect, and you needn’t tell me who thought of it. That Sarah of yours is a jewel above rubies. She openeth her mouth with wisdom and in her tongue is the law of kindness.

Now, Max, don’t get me wrong. I know you’re a fine husband and a good provider. But would it be an insult for an old uncle to do for David what I did for your sister’s boy Mike? And would have done for you if I’d had a nickel to spare at the time, you know that. So anyway, I’m starting a little trust fund for his education and I hope you and Sarah, God bless her, will take it the way it’s intended.

If the judge stays awake long enough, we should wind up this case in another couple of days. I’ll head back to Boston as soon as the jury brings in its verdict. The right one,
kain ayin harah.
Kiss Sarah for me. Kiss the baby if the nurse will let you. What the hell, kiss the nurse too. Or maybe I should handle that myself.

See you soon, Uncle Jake

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copyright © 1988 by Charlotte MacLeod

cover design by Mauricio Diaz

978-1-4532-7736-2

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