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Updated: May 12, 2025
Some weeks later it was on an afternoon early in December Lulu and Grace were in their own little sitting-room, busied in the manufacture of some small gifts for "papa and Maxie," who were, of course, to be kept in profound ignorance on the subject till the time for presentation; therefore, the young workers sat with locked doors; and when presently Maxie's boyish footsteps were heard rapidly approaching, their materials were hastily gathered up, thrust into a closet close at hand, and the key turned upon them.
They began on the quiche. Joe put down his fork after the first bite. "This is damned good!" Rhiannon nodded calmly. "I love this," she said, reaching for Maxie's box. She opened it. "It's an arrowhead from Vermont. My stepson, Max, found it." She weighed the arrowhead in her palm, as he had. "Max made the box. He was in New Zealand . . . It's a special wood from there. Kauri, it's called."
Joe was to mail in a criticism of each book along with short stories of his own. There was a lot to sort through. Cleo, who had written about the gay woman, had impressed him. She had short black hair, deep brown eyes that were intelligent and sympathetic, and a clear spirit. She reminded him of Maxie's arrowhead in its Kauri wood box. "Am I missing something here?"
A month after Maxie's call, two years after he had left Portland, Joe made coffee and read the beginning of his novel. He squared the pages and leaned back. It was the best he could do given what he knew about the story so far. When he finished the first draft, he would start over and add things to better frame the questions that the story answered, and he would take things out that didn't matter.
"Oh good. I love Ingrid. She always sends a Christmas card and tells me how Maxie's doing." Kate had known Max since he was eight. They had become brother and sister even though there was no blood relationship. They had been especially close when Kate lived with Ingrid, Max, and him during her high school years. Kate had been lucky, Joe thought, to have had two mothers, or a mother and a half.
"Yes, O Gracie, if I were only good like you and didn't ever do and say naughty things that make him feel sad!" sighed Lulu. "Oh do you know we are going to have a party on New Years? All the folks that were at Ion are to come; the grown up ones to be papa's and Mamma Vi's company, and the young ones your's and Maxie's and mine." "Yes, I know. And we're all to go to Fairview to spend Monday."
"Time's getting shorter." "Tell me about it. I'm so happy for Kate." "Yes, this is a good thing. It is so nice for her to have you and Max here. Did you see Maxie's giant sculpture?" "He showed me the picture. I love it. I haven't been over to Vermont to see his land, yet. So, what have you been up to?" Joe straightened. "This and that. I'm pretty well settled in Hawaii.
"Knowing what I do now, about women that is, I'd say she made the mainstream choice. She'd have had rice and beans with me." "Red beans and rice aren't bad," Morgan said. "True. We could have gone the distance, though. Strange how you know these things . . . Not that I haven't had good relationships since. I mean, Sally and I had Kate, and then I had the chance to be part of Maxie's life.
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