Secrets Painted by Words

The Not- So Lovely Mishaps of Tea

July 25th, 1939, 2:30pm, Manchester, Vermont

Moments later the remainder of my ladies arrived. They all greeted Mother with the same glow in their eyes. Despite the size of our town, Mother is a very respected woman as the lawyer's wife, and any one man, woman, or child, is excited to meet her and our family.

"Will you be joining us for tea, Madame?" Martha asked, the other women's eyes wide with anticipation.

After a quick glance at me, with pleasure in her thin smile, she turned to my friends and said, "How could I refuse?" I stifled yet another eye roll, and tea commenced. The usual chatter is delightful, as I grew up around it and am glad to host teas of my own, but with Mother's presence I was much more tense. I know my mother, a judgmental lady. I know she'll have one foul thing to say about each of my friends, and then more comments about the food, tea, and my sweet housekeeper. I was desperate for the meal to go smoothly, although I had no time to ensure perfection with Mother's unannounced arrival.

My tension only added to Mother's judgment. Once we'd waved off my ladies, Mother had spewed a speech that seemed she was preparing throughout the meal.

"That friend of yours, Martha, what an insecure little thing. She clung to me like a child, like I was her mother she wanted to show off to her playmates. Did I mention this tea?" she looked down into her cup. She had indeed mentioned tea, but I couldn't stop her. "It's horrific. Who makes this? Why do you choose the darkest tea, only to bombarde it with cream? Why, I feel I should wash my mouth now." My housekeeper scurried around us, still at the table finishing our tea. When she exited the parlor, her tray filled with dirtied dishes, Mother lit a cigarette and glanced at the disappearing servant. "Don't even get me started on that one."

"That's enough, Mother." I murmured, irritated.

"Oh? Am I a nuisance to you? Your poor mother, with one daughter seeing me as a role model, a gravely ill son, and a rebellious daughter, this is what I get from you?" she stared at me in shock. "I should expect more support from you."

"Mother, James is not gravely ill. It could be a virus. And Elizabeth is a grown woman. I don't know if she needs a role model. If anything, she is one to her own children. I am the rebellious child, as you complained about. Why did you expect my support?" I gave a small, challenging smile.

"Well excuse me for worrying about my children and longing for some kind of comfort in this large, elusive city." she sighed dramatically and laid her gaze out the window.

I simply sighed and shook my head, standing from my chair, her head immediately snapping towards me, horror in her eyes that I am not fussing over her drama. "I shall see you at dinner tonight, with Father?" I asked nonchalantly. One thing I've learned from Mother that stuck with me is not something she directly taught me. That was, not tolerating her foolishness. I remember that clearer than her instructions on good tea.

"I suppose you shall." she angrily averted her eyes, turning them to the door. Her gaze didn't waver as she marched out to the foyer.

"I will see you at six." I turned to her in the doorway.

"Yes. I suppose you shall." she glared up at me from arranging her parasol. "Ah-" I chirped as she opened her parasol. "Never open an umbrella inside. It's bad luck." She gave me a confused look. "You get stranger by the moment, don't you?"

"I suppose I do."