“Atwater family humor,” Lulu told Charlie. “So now you know where we get our strangeness from. Oh, God!” she added as the pounding on the floor picked up its pace. “Please, Mrs. ScottRamsay, it’s not like we’re dancing the Highland Fling up here. We’re entertaining our parents, for heaven’s sake!”
“I feel bad, though, for disturbing her,” said Fee. “It is annoying to have people making a noise upstairs, although I don’t see how we can help having fun. Here’s a thought—the lilac’s quite lovely at the moment, so why doesn’t one of you come over to the house tomorrow and pick some from the bush to take to her with my apologies? Sometimes it can help to hear from people’s parents.”
“I’ll do it,” said Sophie. “She doesn’t know me well enough to disapprove of me yet.”
“That’s very generous of you, Sophie,” said Lulu. “Are you planning to go before or after you clear up all the dishes from tonight?”
“In between,” said Sophie, injured.
Halfway through the following afternoon, Sophie presented herself at Mrs. Scott-Ramsay’s door, her hair neatly combed and wearing an inoffensive white blouse, with her arms full of lilacs.
“What do you want?” was her neighbor’s not auspicious greeting. “I don’t sign petitions and I already give to the charities I choose to give to.”
“I’m Sophie from upstairs,” said Sophie. “My mother sent you these lilacs to say sorry for the noise we made last night. She and my father and my other sister came to dinner, and I’m afraid we got a bit what my father would call rackety. So she wanted you to have these as an apology—they’re from our garden.”
“Lilacs.” The old woman sniffed and reached to the purple flowers a surprisingly caressing hand. “That’s very civil of her,” she admitted. “I’m going to have to ask you to come in and put them in water. It’s my housekeeper’s day off.”
Sophie followed Mrs. Scott-Ramsay down the hallway and through the living room to the kitchen, where a large window over the sink showed sparse appointments and a blue-and-white plate still on the table holding crumbs from a sandwich lunch. Mrs. Scott-Ramsay sank into the chair beside it and brandished her stick towards a cupboard above the counter.
“Up there,” she said. “And don’t break anything.”
Standing on tiptoe, Sophie opened it and withdrew a large white china vase decorated with dark red chrysanthemums and yellow butterflies.
“I think they’ll look pretty in this, don’t you?” she said. “The flowers are sort of purplish, so they’ll pick up the color.”
“Hmm” was her hostess’s only response. “Do you know what to do with lilacs?”
“Absolutely!” Sophie smiled. “My mom’s a lilac freak, and it was just about the first thing she ever taught us. Cut them diagonally like this … lukewarm water, not too hot, not too cold … and then you add sugar, which I see here beside the teapot, and … do you have any lemons?”
“Refrigerator.”