West Side Castle, Part II, "Is She--?"

Drawing a sleeve over one wrist, the woman rubs the pane clear of fog and spies an older man standing before yet another stove, this one more modern but equally massive. Only the back of the second man is visible, but the woman notes thick, corduroy-clad legs, a well-muscled back that spreads into heavy shoulders, and a tangled mane of greying, sandy hair. The man opens the low oven door, squats, and draws from the oven a deep, lidded roasting pan. In one facile movement, he hoists the heavy roaster, slides it onto the stove’s surface, and knees the oven door closed. He lifts the lid with a pot-holdered paw, and bending over the steaming contents, fills his lungs with the savory fragrance of roasted turkey. Reaching far over the pan, he draws a carving knife and a large, two-pronged fork from a rack above the stove and plunges the fork deeply into the breast of the bird. Its juices spurt and run deliciously. The man slices a portion onto his mighty fork and turns, lifting the meat triumphantly above his mouth and nodding a kind of toast to the rest of the room.

      Just as he is about to devour the steaming morsel, the man spies the woman outside the window. His fork clatters to the stovetop, and with three long strides, he reaches the French doors, flings them open, and grasping her with both hands, hauls her into the room.

      “Cara!  Come in!” he booms. “Lily. Persis. She’s here!”

      Persis, the tall, younger woman, moves quickly around the table, her arms outstretched. She and Cara embrace warmly. 

      “Leo said your train was late,” says Persis. “Why didn’t you call?”

      “Thought I’d walk.” Cara nods at the thin woman seated at the table. “Hello, Lily.” Lily, her mouth full of cracker, smiles and gestures toward the nearest chair.

      Encircling Cara with one arm, Leo wrenches away her coat, muffler, and gloves, casting them onto a pile of similar articles in a large basket in the corner. He pushes Cara into the chair. “Sit!  You look tired.”

      Lily leans across the table and hugs Cara. The two women press their cheeks together, Lily’s pale and smooth, Cara’s plump and flushed. Cara pulls her knitted cap off and runs a hand through flattened hair.

      “I am a little winded. It’s a steeper climb from the station than I remembered. Quite a trek for an old lady.”

      “Nonsense! You’re not old.”

      “You just say that because we’re the same age, Leo.” 

      “Stop it. Fifty-seven is not old. You’re just tired. You haven’t been well. Have something to eat. Here, Lily, share some of that artichoke concoction.” 

      Lily pushes a plate and the carton of crackers across the table. She covers a cracker and hands it to Cara. “Try it,” she urges. “It’s got artichoke hearts and Parmesan cheese in it. Persis just took it out of the oven.” She smiles at Persis, who turns to a bottle-cluttered sideboard and fills a small glass.

      “Have some Tuaca,” Persis says, proffering the glass. “Just a swallow. S’powerful if you’re not used to it.” Cara sniffs the amber liquid, then swallows  and splutters. Persis laughs, and Leo pats Cara’s back. 

      “Go easy, Darling. It’s strong stuff.”

      Cara wipes away the tears that well in her eyes. “That’s an understatement. What is this?”

      “Leo brought it back from Mexico,” says Persis. She hands Cara a linen napkin. “Whole case of it. It’s about all we drank when we were down there last summer.” Persis smiles at Leo over Cara’s head, and Leo throws his head up and makes a kissing motion.

      Lily waves at the plate of crackers. “Better have another of those, Cara. Soak up the alcohol. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself lying on the floor under the table, wondering what happened.” All three women laugh.

      “And you don’t want to miss this dinner,” says Leo, turning back to the stove and the glistening turkey. “We’ve been working on it all week.” Again, he slices and stabs meat onto the large fork.

The young man has been watching the reunion of the four adults from his station by the stove. Now he shyly approaches the table and places platters of fresh fruit and vegetables at its opposite ends. “Dad and Persis made pies from their own pumpkins,” he explains to Cara. The others join in. 

      “Had to smash it twice through the sieve.”

      “Stayed up all one night, stirring it.”

      “Pumpkin’s been cooking for three days.”

      “Ground the spices with the pestle and mortar Leo made.”

      “Enough for eight pies!”

      Cara laughs and throws her hands up, as if to surrender. “I’m impressed!” She smiles at the young man. “S’good to see you again, Edward.”

      “Good to see you, Cara. I didn’t know if you remembered me.”

      “You were only about nine when I last saw you. Not a little boy anymore, are you?” 

      “I’ll be sixteen next week,” Edward says, blushing. He returns his attention to the kettles on the iron stove.

      “He’s grown up nicely.”

      “Thanks,” says Lily, selecting a slice of pineapple from the platter.   

      “Place has changed a lot since I was last here,” Cara says. “Not surprised, I guess.” She tosses her head in Leo’s direction. “He can’t leave it alone, can he?”

      “It’s the art project that never ends,” laughs Persis. 

“He moved the front doorway in August,” Lily says. “Heather’s really into Feng Shui stuff.  Spends all her time analyzing the layout and calculating the correct position of the rooms and furniture.”
      
Cara looks up. “Heather?”
      “She’s been here about a year,” says Lily, smearing another cracker with the artichoke spread. 

      “Is she--?”

      “Yes,” Lily says. She puts the whole cracker in her mouth, chews, and swallows. She starts to speak, and a flake of cracker falls from her lips to the table. Lily presses a fingertip on the flake and returns it to her mouth. “You know, Cara--” She breaks off as the four children clatter into the room, demanding to know when dinner will be ready.
      The three smaller children surround Leo, the little boys wrapping themselves around his legs and pulling on his arms. He detaches them gently. The toddler, a little girl with wispy, almost-white hair, mimics her brothers. She locks her hands behind her father’s knee and squats on his foot. Leo lifts the toddler a few inches off the floor, raising and lowering his leg. She squeals in mock terror and clings to his leg as he hops across the floor to the table where Persis sits. Persis stretches her arms out toward the child, and Leo lifts her into her mother’s lap. The little girl reaches one arm out to her mother, but retains her hold on Leo’s leg. He hops in place, laughing and gently shaking the toddler into Persis’s arms.