invented,â my grandfather said. âIâd celebrate that day, all right.â
The White House scene was off the screen and there was a story about a train wreck being televised. My grandfatherwent into the kitchen for another beer. I sat there watching the train wreck without really seeing it. I was thinking about my father. I wondered what my father said to people like the President and the Vice-President. I wondered if he ever interrupted them by saying, âHell, thatâs manifest knowledge, donât bore me with it,â as he often said to me; or, âDonât mouth other peopleâs opinions. Form your own!â
When the telephone rang, I made no effort to answer it. A lot of people in Storm pestered my grandfather by calling him up to recite the symptoms of their cats and dogs. That way they decided whether or not the symptoms were serious enough to warrant a visit to Dr. Cutler. My grandfather was always polite and helpful, but I think it hurt him a lot. He never blamed Cutler outright for anything; he never said Cutler had stolen his practice, though that was the rumor in Storm. Marlon Fredenberg had told me that much the first week I was there. All my grandfather ever said about Cutler was that he had his reasons for not wanting anything to do with Cutler, and that included talking about Cutler. Marlon Fredenberg said the least Cutler could have done was ask my grandfather to assist him, but Cutler just bought him out; that ended that.
âPhoneâs for you!â my grandfather called from the kitchen.
I went out to answer it, figuring that if it was my father asking me to guess where he was calling from, Iâd just say, âI suppose youâre at Buckingham Palace, or the Kremlin, or the White House,â to sort of take the wind out of his sails. I donât know why I wanted to do that, particularly. I just did.I wasnât much of a loving son. I should have been glad heâd call me at all.
âA.J.? How would you like a visitor for Christmas?â It wasnât my father. It was Billie Kay calling from New York City.
âYou mean youâd come here?â I said. I was really glad to hear her voice, but in a way I couldnât picture Billie Kay in Storm. She liked luxury too much. I couldnât see her in my grandfatherâs house.
âIâll stay at the hotel,â she said. âWill you and your grandfather invite me for Christmas dinner?â
âWell, I donât know about that,â I said. I knew Billie Kay would expect this gala feast; she was very big on holidays and celebrating. I didnât see how I could ask my grandfather to spend the money on a turkey and all the trimmings, and my own allowance was too small. Then too, I remembered my grandfatherâs last call to Late Night Larry. Heâd told Late Night Larry Christmas wasnât even celebrated in the early days in New England, because it was a feast day of the Church of England, against which the Pilgrims and Puritans were in rebellion. In 1659 a law was passed imposing a fine on anyone celebrating Christmas. (âYou donât say!â Late Night Larry had responded. My grandfather had said, âI do say! Thanksgiving was the important day! Not this phony Christmas!â)
âLet me talk to my grandfather,â I told Billie Kay. I put my hand over the mouthpiece so she wouldnât hear our conversation.
âItâs Billie Kay,â I said. âShe wants to make a big dealover Christmas, but Iâd just as soon tell her we donât go in for phony holidays.â
âWe donât go in for fancy holidays,â my grandfather said, âbut weâll cook up a meal she wonât forget. Tell her to come, A.J.â
âAre you sure?â I said.
âIs the Pope Catholic?â he said.
âBillie Kay,â I said, âweâd love to have you.â
âGreat, A.J. Iâm bringing Janice. I hope you