Strangers at the Feast Read Online Free PDF

exactly like her.
    The young Ginny would patter into Eleanor’s room, storm her closets, and then parade about, lost in the fabric of Eleanor’s beige housedresses and seersucker suits. For her grand finale, Ginny stepped into Eleanor’s sequined black dress, and tottered around in her high heels, her neck hung with pearls.
    “How on earth do you doooo?” Ginny exclaimed. “I’m Mrs. Olson, and the pleasure is all mine.”
    At the grocery store, if Eleanor smelled a melon, Ginny would sniff it, too, and at the checkout register, she demanded to put the items on the counter herself and to hand over the coupons. As a treat, Eleanor would sometimes hand Ginny her wallet and let her count out the money.
    At school, her daughter made her cards with drawings of a small bunny rabbit—Eleanor called Ginny “Bunny”—beside a mommy bunny rabbit; inside they said: I miss you, Mama Rabbit .
    Ginny studied photo albums of Eleanor and said, “Mama Rabbit was so pretty.”
    Once, in Bloomingdales, Ginny wanted to look at the Hello Kitty section. But Eleanor’s attention had been caught by an end-of-season outerwear sale. That year, with Gavin’s promotion to junior sales broker, he had raised her allowance, which meant she could afford a new winter coat. She slipped excitedly into a green cashmere double-breasted one, fastened her purse on her shoulder, and spun around.
    “Does Mommy look elegant?”
    But Ginny was nowhere in sight. Tearing through the coat racks, Eleanor shouted her name. Finally she spotted a young woman riding the escalator down toward her, Ginny at her side.
    “Good God. Where was she?”
    The woman shook her head slowly, remembering something awful. “I saw her with a man. He was holding her hand and something didn’t feel right, you get that queasy feeling in your gut.”
    “What man?!”
    “That creep is probably in Poughkeepsie by now. I asked your daughter, ‘Do you know that man?’ and he ran like the cops were coming.”
    Eleanor tugged off the green coat and threw it on the floor.
    That afternoon, on the train back to Westport, Eleanor felt a headache coming on. Her brain seemed to be pressing into her eyeballs. She had lost her father and her mother, as well as her younger sister; Eleanor was no stranger to grief. But to lose her own child? She felt she had glimpsed a black chasm. She had seen, for a moment, how merciless the world might be; there were no limits to what could be taken from you. Yes, she could return to her white clapboard house, but on the periphery, on buses and subways, on sidewalks and in cinemas, in deep and distant forests, dark forces lurked. A strong passion stirred within her: She would defend her children with sticks and stones; with her fingernails, her naked fists.
    “I have never been so furious with you,” she said, climbing into bed with Ginny. “How could you have gone off with that man? It is simply not the behavior of a child who cares one iota about her mother.”
    Ginny’s eyes were red. “I just wanted the Hello Kitty. All the girls have it.”
    “And do all the girls wander off with strange men?”
    Eleanor patted her hair, the heat of her daughter’s scalp rising through her fingers. She kissed Ginny’s forehead, more forcefully than she intended.
    “Ouch. I’m sorry, Mom.”
    “Now this headache won’t go away. I’ll have to take an aspirin, I think. Maybe two. Do you think I should take two?”
    “If it hurts bad.”
    “Yes, I think so.” Eleanor laid her head on her daughter’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, Ginny, don’t tell your father or Douglas about this. They simply will not understand and it will upset them. You won’t tell them, right?”
    And her daughter, who even as a child understood loyalty, never told.
    They shared other secrets. One afternoon, years later, Ginny left a note on her mother’s dresser.
Dear Mom,
Maybe you think it’s too soon, and maybe you’ll say no, but I think the time is absolutely right for