Free The Time of Her Life by Robb Forman Dew Page B

have thought of it. You look just right. You’re the quintessential
     Mouseketeer!”
    Across the room her mother had taken off her veil and wimple but was still wearing the glasses with her hair fluffing around
     her face as she laughed and gesticulated. Claudia was elated, too; she and Avery were alight with energy, and in any corner
     where they were not the party palled and went limp. That’s how it looked to Jane.
    Later in the evening, however, Maggie had come to find Jane and had leaned down to her in an attitude of worried affection.
     She was still wearing her mouse ears, and her short hair spiked out around the edge of the black felt cap in a way that exaggerated
     her look of concern. “Janie, why don’t you sleep over with Diana tonight?” she had said, leaning forward in a sort of insistent
     entreaty. That particular night Jane didn’t want to be away for even one second from her glowing parents, and she gazed at
     them across the room longingly; she didn’t want to insult Maggie, either.
    “I have to get up really early in the morning to practice my violin,” she said. “I have a lesson at ten o’clock.”
    Maggie had shifted her position slightly, straightening up and then bending protectively over Jane again with her arm across
     Jane’s shoulders. Her voice became more brusque, her intention more determined.“Look, Jane, you really should spend the night here. Sweetie, your father’s had a lot to drink.” She looked straight at Jane,
     and Jane held her face utterly still; she didn’t let her expression change in any way, but she was shocked. Maggie had spoken
     to her so matter-of-factly, as though she could ever have the right to make such a comment. Maggie had spoken to her as if
     Jane were just anyone and as if her father were just anyone. Just people Maggie happened to know. Jane was learning early
     in her life that in order to like most people, she had to ignore most of what they said and did.
    “It’s really nice of you to ask me,” she had said, “but I’m afraid I can’t stay over tonight.” Jane’s intention had remained
     firm, although she had been as overwhelmed then as she was now, sitting in Vince’s study and being cheerfully teased about
     her costume. Teased in a way that she suspected was somehow an indictment of her whole family. The emotion that began to creep
     over her as she listened to Vince’s banter was almost like the disheartening pang of homesickness. She was touched suddenly
     by a loss of hopefulness; and since she counted on the Tunbridges to be her measure of all things normal, all things in their
     right proportion, it was essential to her that she evade this encroaching disillusionment. She was restless sitting there
     with Vince in his study, having to listen to anything he might say, and she suggested to Diana that they go upstairs.
    They found Celeste sitting cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by books and loose papers and notebooks, talking on the phone
     and making notes. Jane and Diana stood in the hall idly eavesdropping on her until she spotted them out of the corner of her
     eye.
    “Hey! You two!” She covered the mouth of the receiver with her hand. “Hey, in a minute how about playing just
one
hand of canasta? Or we could do a hand of bridge again if I can get Mark or Maggie to sit in.” Celeste loved to play cards
     and was currently trying to interest Jane and Diana in learning bridge. Jane had once heard Maggie say to Vince that Celeste
     might ruin her grade point average if she didn’t play less bridge. “Or we could play Michigan rummy. We could play that three-handed.
     One game. I promise.” Celeste’s bedroom was vast and was furnished like a living room, with her great-grandmother’s desk,
     a reading chair, and a long couch. Jane had been there the afternoon Celeste and her friends had brought in the eight-sided
     game table and four wooden chairs that were set up at the foot of her bed. Maggie’s whole expansive