Free The Importance of Being Kennedy by Laurie Graham

looked a fright in her photographs, with all that blacking around her eyes, so it was a surprise to see her in the flesh, quite natural-looking and nice. She was wearing diamond ear clips and a sable coat though, every inch the film star. Mrs. K had on a good wool dress and pearls, but the baby was showing well by then. She looked a prim little body beside Miss Swanson.
    They had a cup of tea together and then Miss Swanson joined in the apple-bobbing and a game of Nelson’s eye, all very jolly but that didn’t stop the tittle-tattling in the kitchen. I had to tell Fidelma to watch her tongue. I didn’t want the children hearing things.
    I said, “There might be nothing more to this than there is to him playing a round of golf with Jimmy Roosevelt. It could be a business arrangement. Just because she’s a woman. Women can be in business.”
    Danny Walsh said, “They can too. I wouldn’t mind putting a bit of business her way myself. Did you see the pins on her?”
    Miss Swanson had her children with her; the girl was Kick’s age, the boy was a timid little mite, a bit younger than Euny. Our lot were polite to them but that was about as far as it went. The Kennedys never really warmed to outsiders. They had all the playmates they wanted in the family, and sometimes getting them to mix with other children was more trouble than it was worth. Joseph Patrick had come home from school with a fat lip, been in a fight with a boy he’d invited to the Halloween party. The boy said he wasn’t allowed. His parents didn’t think the Kennedys were suitable people. And somebody wrote on the chalkboard that Mr. Kennedy took women to hotel rooms.
    He said, “What does that mean?”
    I said, “It doesn’t mean anything. People in business like your Daddy go to hotels all the time. There was no need to get into a fight over it.”
    “Well,” he said, “he had a smirk on his face so I figured I’d wipe it off for him.”
    Herself got a new mink jacket for Christmas, picked it out herself from Jacoby’s showroom in Manhattan, and when Christmas Day dawned, Mr. K had another surprise for her. He’d bought the cottage we’d rented the last two summers at Hyannis, so it would be theirs to go to every year. He was having it renovated and rooms added. He said we should hardly recognize it the next time we went up there. Mrs. K was thrilled. Of all the places they’ve lived, I believe it’s still her favorite.
    I got a letter from Ursie the first week of the New Year, to say Margaret had another baby boy, Ramon Novarro Mulcahy, mother and child doing well.
    She wrote,
    I did everything I could to get the poor child a proper name. She could at least have named him Desmond forDada, but her head is full of picture palace nonsense and Frankie Mulcahy daren’t say a peep to contradict her. I hope there’ll be no more after this one. Two is surely enough for anyone in this day and age, especially for a fish porter with asthma.
    I’m certain Margaret didn’t need advice from Ursie on how to stop having babies, and I was glad she’d got the two. More than the rest of us looked like having anyway. Edmond’s Widow Clavin was too long in the tooth, Deirdre was a Bride of Christ, and Ursie had her old-maid dreams about Mr. Jauncey. As for me, well, there was a time. But now I think of it, I’ve had the best of both worlds. I’ve had more of their little smiles and kisses than ever Herself has, and none of her aches and pains.
    Ursie’s letter went on.
    I mailed Deirdre a box of initialed handkerchiefs from Federated. Whether they’ll ever reach her I don’t know. They’ll probably end up in a mud hut somewhere, but it’s the thought that counts. Mr. Jauncey is visiting with his in-laws in Nashua.
    Every year Ursie sends handkerchiefs and if I know Deirdre, she gives them away. I bet all her little pickaninnies are wiping their wee schnozzes on hankies from Federated. I try to picture Deirdre getting older. The last picture we got