and comment on it, came back with an ashtray. I sat down and lit a cigarette.
Prunella said, “Cristobal, for heaven's sake, will you stop fooling around and bid? I'm going to sleep here.”
“Sorry, but I don't want to share my wine with this small black and yellow person.” I blew cigarette smoke at the wasp and he reluctantly headed for the wisteria. Then I looked at my excellent hand and bid two clubs.
“That's a demand bid!” Aubrey said. “You must have a big hand. I’ll pass.”
“Don't you have any good cards at all, Aubrey?” Marietta took a tissue from her pocket and carefully cleaned a speck of cigarette ash from the tablecloth.
“You dealt,” Aubrey said. “If I don't have anything, it's your fault. And you can't even make beet pickles. Can you make kugel? My mother always made kugel for me.”
“I can make kugel,” Marietta said.
“That changes things,” Aubrey said. “What do you put in it?”
“Rice, eggs and raisins.”
“That's not kugel,” Aubrey said, “that's rice pudding.”
The jaguar, a sinuous flow of muscles, stepped out from under the hosta leaves and came to lie beside Aubrey’s feet.
“How did your mother make kugel?” Marietta asked. “I don't mind doing it a different way.”
Prunella said. “Two no trump.” That was encouraging. It meant she had good cards, too.
Marietta put her cards down and waved a hand at me.
“Six no trump,” I said. Making a small slam would be very pleasant. I do not care about the points, but Prunella would be delighted.
Aubrey passed and said, “Potatoes and onions, grated. And eggs, of course.”
“Is that all? Just potatoes and onions?” Marietta said. “That's not sweet.”
Prunella swatted at the yellow jacket again. His darting flight, as he circled the table, betrayed irritation. If he stung the jaguar, we would be in trouble. If he stung Marietta, even bigger trouble.
“It's not supposed to be sweet,” Aubrey said.
“If I make it with potatoes and onions,” Marietta said, “will you marry me?”
“I'll think about it,” Aubrey said. “I'd have to taste the kugel first, of course.”
“Then we're engaged,” Marietta said. “I know you'll like my kugel.”
“I hope you made the right bid, Cristobal,” Prunella said. “It’s not easy to take twelve tricks.”
“Life is full of risks,” I said. “It’s your lead, Marietta.”
Marietta led the ace of hearts.
Aubrey moaned, then swallowed the last of his beer and put the bottle down firmly on the side table. “You're not supposed to lead an ace against a slam contract.”
Marietta's bottom lip quivered. “You're not supposed to yell at your fiancée for playing the wrong card. I'd cancel the whole deal if it wasn't a matter of life and death. I suppose you would enjoy seeing me executed.”
I laid my hand down for the dummy, saw Prunella smile and knew we were going to make the contract.
“It's okay with me if you cancel,” Aubrey said. “This marriage thing was your idea in the first place.”
“I won't make you any kugel.”
“Well, don't be too hasty. It's a long time since I had kugel.”
“A whole week, at least,” Prunella muttered.
“I take it we're engaged again,” Marietta gazed at her hand. “What should I lead now?”
“You're not allowed to ask your partner for direction,” I said.
“You change the rules every time we play.” Marietta led a small heart.
“Would you like a drink?” Aubrey said to Marietta. “There’s a jug of iced tea in the refrigerator.”
Marietta rose. “Cristobal, play my hand for me. I'll get the tea.”
I slid into her chair and picked up her cards, hoping I wouldn't be tempted to cheat and make a bad play. I needn’t have worried; her cards were worthless.
When Marietta returned, so did the wasp. I lit another cigarette in an attempt to defend myself against its bad temper.
“Aubrey, I don't want a real marriage, just the legality. I want to live here, where I'll be safe,” Marietta said. “Does that make you feel better?”
Aubrey put his cards down. “You don't want me? You just want the convenience? Your words are wounding. I may cry.”
The jaguar rose and stared at Marietta. He was panting.
“It's your turn to play a card, Aubrey,” Prunella said. “And if you don't hurry up, you’ll have another cause for tears.”
Marietta reached over to pat Aubrey's hand and I managed to knock her glass of iced tea across the table. Prunella grabbed the cards; I grabbed the wine glasses. Marietta scrunched the table cloth into a ball. “Oh, this is terrible,” she said. “I hate messes.”
“You can put the table cloth in the laundry room,” Aubrey said.
“That little room you wouldn't let me see when you showed me through the house?” asked Marietta. “I've been dying to look in there.”
“It’s only a laundry room,” Aubrey said. “There is nothing to see.”
While Marietta went inside, Prunella put the cards back on the table.
A moment later, Marietta came back, her face pale. “I never saw such a stinking mess in my life. I suppose your closet is in the same condition?” She slumped into her chair. “I don't think I will marry you after all.”
“Do you mean it's all over between us?” Aubrey said. He looked at his empty beer bottle as if hoping it might refill itself.
“We made the slam, Cristobal,” Prunella said, gathering up the cards. “Six no trump, doubled and redoubled.”
I couldn't remember Aubrey or Marietta doubling the contract, and I'd have noticed if Prunella redoubled, but she always tallies the score and I have found it wiser not to question her figures.
I picked up my glass. The wasp floated in the last inch of sunshine wine, his wings too wet to lift him to safety. I stuck my finger beneath him so he would have something to stand on and took him over to the wisteria, where he crawled onto a branch and began shaking his wings and cleaning himself.
“I'm leaving,” Marietta said. “I feel a migraine coming on.”
“I'll walk out to the street with you,” Prunella said. She sighed. “I'm so disappointed. I was looking forward to a long, stimulating afternoon of bridge.”
“So was I. And looking forward to getting a husband, too,” Marietta said. “But men can be so uncooperative. Don’t you agree?”
The two women disappeared beneath the spreading branches of the golden locust trees, their voices fading. Then came the thud of car doors closing and the sound of engines starting. Aubrey went into the house and came back with another Renaissance beer. I tipped the last of the dandelion wine onto the grass for the yellow jacket and poured two fingers from the mickey of scotch I had in my jeans. Now that Marietta had taken the car, I would be forced to walk to my apartment, but I have endured worse.
“Was Marietta serious about marrying me?” Aubrey asked.
“She's serious about everything.”
The jaguar padded over to the fountain for another drink of water, then disappeared under the hosta leaves.
Aubrey gazed up at the canopy of blue sky for a couple of minutes. “Perhaps I should go visit my brother in Alberta.”
“She's flying south on Wednesday. Only three more days.”
He turned his gaze to me. “When you went into the house for the ashtray, did you happen to go into the laundry room?”
“I'll clean up the mess.”
He smiled. “I was surprised to see that most of my compost pile had decided to move indoors. It rarely does that.” Then he was serious again. “Do you think Marietta will really assassinate the president?”
“She’s capable of it. But they may not let her back into the country.”
“What will you do if that happens?”
“Perhaps I can go to Alberta with you.”
I pu
t my feet up on a wrought iron chair and leaned back, letting the sun bake the knots of tension from my muscles. The wasp came to examine my scotch, rejected it and dove on the dandelion wine in the grass. I heard a soft rumbling purr, but could not decide whether it was the jaguar or the happy breath of a now peaceful afternoon.
***
Also by Lea Tassie
Adventure:
Tour Into Danger
Cat Humor:
Cats in Clover
Siamese Summers
Cat Under Cover
Cats & Crayons
Mainstream:
A Clear Eye
Double Image
Deception Bay
Science Fiction:
Green Blood Rising
Red Blood Falling
Shockwave
Short Stories:
Harvest (collection)
Too Blue
Ra’s Revenge
A Proposal of Marriage
###
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