never challenge him. Maybe he’ll like being with someone who shows a little spirit.
Ruth is the first who’s ever brought something good to eat. That alone is endearing. Even if she’s bullied them into eating it before dinner. Even if she’s given Daisy more sugar than Charlotte normally lets her eat in a week.
Eli says, “Ruth, would you like a drink? White wine, red wine, beer, something stronger? Rocco, club soda?”
Charlotte holds her breath, even though Rocco has been sober since before Daisy was born.
“Sure,” Rocco says. “Club soda would be great. Got any lemon?”
“You know we do. You got it,” says Eli. “Ruth?”
“I’ll take club soda too. With lemon.”
“I’m hungry,” Daisy says.
The ease with which Ruth glides onto her knees in front of Daisy reminds Charlotte that Ruth must be at least ten years younger than she is. Daisy shrinks back, as if from a scary dog, but Ruth keeps her in focus.
Ruth says, “Look.” She puts her straw bag aside. Then she puts her hands up, palms out, as if she’s being arrested and waiting to be cuffed.
“I’m not going to take anything,” she says. Rocco must have told her about Klepto Kathy. Maybe this relationship is more serious than Charlotte thought.
Charlotte sees Daisy wondering how this stranger can read her mind. Daisy relaxes, a little. Anyway, Moses the giraffe is safely locked away.
“Watch,” says Ruth. Charlotte has to bend down to see that Ruth is crossing her eyes and jiggling them in their sockets.
“Yuck,” says Daisy.
Ruth bursts out laughing, and Daisy laughs too.
The sound of Daisy laughing with a stranger is as shocking as a scream.
“I bet you’re starving, honey,” says Ruth. “Your Uncle Rocco and his friend Ruth were almost an hour late. For which we’re so sorry. The traffic, the—”
“Are you Uncle Rocco’s friend?” The subject of friendship has been newly important since preschool, when Daisy noticed that some girls got more birthday invitations than she did. Daisy was mostly bewildered, but it had caused Charlotte pain, probably more than Daisy. Is there something she should be doing to help her daughter make friends? And what will she do when Daisy does have friends—and she asks to spend the night at a friend’s house?
“I am,” says Ruth. “Your uncle and I are friends.”
“Are you his best friend?”
“I don’t know about that.”
Charlotte wants to hear what Ruth says next. But Daisy gives her mother a warning look. Stay out. This is her conversation. For just an instant, Charlotte feels almost breathless with shock.
Eli gestures at the couch and says, “Please. Everybody sit down.”
In the kitchen, Charlotte slips the pasta into the boiling water. She sees Daisy streak past on the way to her room. Charlotte’s relieved when no one comes in, offering to help.
Finally Eli looks in and says, “What do you need? Give me something to do. I’m begging.”
“She seems nice,” Charlotte says.
“You always think that. At first.” He kisses her forehead, damp with steam.
“Well, isn’t she? Nice?”
“So far so good,” he says. “No special broccoli, nothing stolen so far, no suicide threats, no . . . But the jury’s still out. Let’s say the jury has learned its lesson.” Charlotte loves the faint traces of accent in Eli’s speech, the way he says yury for jury.
Charlotte says, “I need everybody to sit down. Call Daisy.”
By the time Charlotte brings in the platter of steaming pasta, everyone’s at the table. They all applaud, even Daisy. Charlotte’s mood improves. Her daughter glows in the candlelight. Daisy has parents who love her, good food, a comfortable home. A happier childhood than Charlotte’s was. Isn’t that what everyone wants for their kids?
Charlotte dishes out the pasta. Steam fogs her glasses, and Daisy gently removes them from her mother’s face, wipes the lenses with a napkin, and tenderly replaces them.
“Thank you,” Charlotte says, resenting how the sweetness of the moment is partly spoiled by her awareness of Ruth watching her and Daisy. It almost makes it seem as if they’re performing for this outsider.
“You’re welcome,” says Daisy.
Eating keeps them quiet until Ruth says, “Charlotte, it’s a miracle you can do this. Work all day, run a hugely successful business, and come home and cook something delicious. I mean . . . Rocco told me a little, plus I Googled Buddenbrooks and Gladiola. I love how you said that you named the company after the flower and the novel you’d always overlooked until you understood how amazing they are. I’m so happy when something makes me wake up and smell