At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,96

another word.

"Mrs. C. and Noah and Sophie will be joining us for dinner," Rachel said to Gracie. "I don't know why she changed her mind at the last minute, but I'm so pleased she did. She suggested we use the big dining room so we need to move everything from here to there. We could use an extra pair of hands, if you don't mind."

Gracie could have kissed Rachel for giving her something to take her mind off her decision to tell Noah everything. She had never been very good at sitting still, especially not when she was feeling uncomfortable or apprehensive. She gratefully disappeared into the smaller dining room and began to gather up the silver ware in a large soft towel. She was admiring a particularly beautiful serving spoon that looked like it belonged at Windsor Castle when she realized Sophie was standing next to her.

"What are you doing?" Sophie asked. She looked like the poster child for perfect behavior.

"See this spoon?" she asked, handing it to the little girl. "I was thinking that it's so beautiful that it belongs on a queen's table."

"You don't have a queen in America."

"No, we don't," Gracie said, swallowing a few terrible jokes about imperial presidencies. "We have a president."

"Does she eat turkey too?"

"To be honest, Sophie, we've never had a woman president." She told her a little bit about the man in the White House and how every year he pardons the biggest turkey—of the poultry persuasion—in town.

"Papa took me to see the Pilgrims yesterday." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't like cranberries."

What an odd little girl. She could tell you to sod off one moment, then charm you with her almost Victorian manners the next.

"What are you doing?" Sophie asked. "Are you stealing the silverware?"

Gracie laughed out loud. "I'm moving it from Rachel's dining table to your grandmother's table. Here," she said, handing the girl a handful of teaspoons. "You can help me."

Sophie didn't look entirely pleased with the prospect, but to her credit she trooped after Gracie with five teaspoons and a stack of perfectly starched and ironed linen napkins clutched in her hands. I know you, she thought as they arranged the silver at each place. I know all about you. She didn't know all of the details of Sophie's life, but she did know how it was to feel all alone in a very big and scary world, how it felt to wish you fit in. That was why the child struck out the way she did. You didn't need a master's in psychology to figure that one out. Raise a child in chaos and you'll end up with either a people-pleaser like Gracie or little Stands With Fists. The best thing Noah could do was offer her stability and love, both in equal measure. Gramma Del had done that for Gracie and it had made all the difference.

"My grandmother changed her mind and said families should spend Thanksgiving at home, not in restaurants," Sophie said out of nowhere. "She and Papa yelled at each other this morning." The little girl shuddered. "I don't like yelling."

"I'm sure they were just having a disagreement."

"No." Sophie sounded quite positive. "They were very loud. They sounded like my aunt Pamela before she said I had to go away."

Gracie took a deep breath, crossed her fingers, then jumped in. "My father used to yell all the time when I was a little girl. I used to hide in my closet with my fingers in my ears."

Sophie considered her for a moment. "I run away."

"I thought maybe you did."

"I wish grownups wouldn't yell."

"I know, Sophie, so do I. But sometimes that's the only way they can make themselves heard."

Sophie nodded. "Can I carry in the tea cups now?"

It took Gracie a second to shift gears. "Carefully," she said. "They're china tea cups and very delicate."

"I'll be careful," Sophie said.

"Promise?"

The child nodded. "I promise."

#

His mother found Noah in the side yard. He was gathering wood for the fire places in the main dining room.

"She's very good with Sophie."

He looked up from a pile of kindling he was separating. "Who is?"

"Gracie. I heard them talking in the dining room. They were very endearing together."

He wanted to brush off his mother's comments with a smartass remark but Sophie's welfare was too important for that. "What were they doing?"

"Setting the table. Gracie was trying to explain why adults raise their voices."

"Damn it," Noah said, tossing a piece of firewood across the yard. "Sophie heard us this