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I could see it was on the tip of Betsy's tongue to come back with a smart remark, but she glanced at her father and then pressed her lips together like someone trying to keep from regurgitating.

Mama had made one of Mr. Fletcher' s favorite meals, her meat loaf with garlic mashed potatoes. She had fresh, steamed string beans and homemade bread. For Betsy, Baby Celeste, and me, she had prepared fresh lemonade. She and Mr. Fletcher shared a bottle of red wine he had brought. Instead of serving family style as she usually did, however, she prepared each person's plate beforehand and brought it in.

Mr. Fletcher immediately began to rave about the food. Betsy pecked at it to start, determined to not appreciate anything, but even she was unable to not enjoy what she was eating and was soon eating more enthusiastically. Mama and Mr. Fletcher talked about their wedding plans as if none of us were there.

"I'm looking forward to you meeting my good friend Wyman Bogart," Mama told him. "He and I have been working together for some time. He's an old family friend, my oldest here."

"I have a surprise for you," Mr. Fletcher said, winking at me. "You talked about him and his store so much. I went over there yesterday and picked out a beautiful wedding ring for you. And," he said, tilting his head. "he told me you had already done the same for me."

"That was supposed to be a secret," Mama said, pretending to be upset.

"Our days of keeping secrets from each other ended very quickly," Mr. Fletcher told her, and they both laughed.

Betsy looked at me and dropped the corners of her mouth. Baby Celeste laughed along with Mama and Mr. Fletcher.. They continued to talk about the wedding. Mama's plans for the dinner, and the music they would have. Mr. Bogart, who had found the minister Mama wanted, also had a musician who played the accordion.

"That's your music?" Betsy asked, finally speaking up. "An accordion?"

"It's just to provide music while we eat really," Mama said.

"Sounds like a terrific wedding," Betsy said, and scooped the last forkful of meat loaf into her mouth.

"It's simple, but its full of meaning," Mama told her. Mr. Fletcher agreed.

Betsy said nothing more. In fact, she suddenly looked more than just bored; she looked tired. droopy. Her eyes closed and opened, closed and opened.

"Let's not worry about the dishes right now," Mama told Mr. Fletcher when he rose to help her. "Take everyone into the living room and I'll play something."

"Fine," he said.

Betsy looked confused when we all rose.

"We're going into the living room," I told her as I started for Baby Celeste, but to my surprise, she turned and reached out for Mr. Fletcher instead.

"Here we go," he cried, and lifted her out of her seat to carry her.

Betsy's eves grew small with envy and anger before she rose and followed along. When we got there, she plopped into Grandfather Jordan's rocking chair and closed her eyes.

Before Mama came in to play for us. Betsy was asleep. Mr. Fletcher was too occupied with Baby Celeste to notice.

I looked at Mama and she raised her eyebrows and then smiled.

"She won't be a problem," she whispered, then went to the piano.

10

Elliot's Web

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Betsy didn't wake up until Mama stopped

playing and it was time for her and her father to leave. It was as if Mama's music had kept her in a coma. She looked confused, even a bit frightened, at how much time had gone by and how much she had missed. She sat up, her eyes blinking, and vigorously rubbed her cheeks.

"Are you feeling all right. dear?" Mama asked. "Yes," Betsy said quickly. "I guess I was just... bored." she offered, trying to climb out of her pool of embarrassment. Even Baby Celeste was staring at her as if she were some sort of freak.

"Bored? How could you be bored with that music?" her father asked, "That kind of music puts me to sleep," she insisted, "It's elevator music."

"Perhaps you're just not used to a simple. gentle lifestyle." Mama said, keeping her irritation under a waxy smile. "In time I'm sure you will adjust and be very happy."