The trees in the yard were barren, but garlands and decorations brightened the house. My mother had decided to have just a few friends over for a holiday luncheon. As always, she was serving the yummiest things: tiny sandwiches cut into pretty shapes, aspic, cheese soufflé, and Waldorf salad with apples, raisins, and nuts. Gordy, Helen, and I perched like so many birds in my hemlock tree by the driveway, chattering to each other as we watched the ladies arrive in their pretty hats and fur coats. As they bustled to the house, we giggled from the tree branches, hidden from sight. “Gosh, I hope she doesn’t hit the tree,” Gordy hissed, throwing his hands up to protect his head in mock despair as one of the ladies maneuvered her huge Cadillac around the other cars in the drive. Every time she put on the brakes, Gordy would emit an errch and then zroom when she’d start forward again. Helen and I held on to the branch above us to keep from falling as we snorted and laughed, trying not to be heard.
