Chapter 40

Tina's turn:

It's almost Christmas and it's my second with Alan and my second with our Terri.

And the first for all of us together. I can't imagine being happier. Look around. I have this great extended family. It's got roots in several states and three religions. We go from blonde Susan to sub-continent dark Grandma Desai and several redheads. We have musical talents and culinary talents and all manner of technical capabilities. And it's all so unbelievably happy.

I walked into our apartment today. When the door opened, Terri looked up. "Tina!" she laughed. "Come see what me an' Rachel're doing!"

I went over to where they were sprawled on the living room floor. Terri showed me a drawing. "It's a pterodactyl."

"I can see that," I said.

"We're trying to get it just right. 'Member when Mizz Johanna called me 'Terri-dactyl'? It's a SIGN!"

"A sign of what?" I asked her.

"I dunno. But it's a sign. We're tryin' to draw a cute pterodactyl."

"Why don't you post a request on the board at the Greenhouse?" I said. "Some of the other students might have some connections in the fine arts. Might find somebody to help you with that."

Rachel's grin involves her whole face. "Yeah, Terri. We shoulda thought of that."

"We should've," Terri retorted to her little friend, "But we can't think of everything."

"Just go do it! And post it on the website in case somebody looks there."

"Networking," Rachel said. "We're doing it."

Terri rolled backward and reached for her laptop. The two eight year olds collaborate. My Terri's the brighter of the two. It's not even close, and I don't mean to sound like I'm bragging. I think Terri must've been conceived during a neutrino shower or something.

I know my Alan's plenty smart, but nothing I've ever gained from conversations with Terri's natural mother gives me the least indication that she's above average intelligence. Yet here's Terri, and 'genius' has been used to describe her.

Eight years old. Touch typist. Pretty good with technology. Right now she's posting to the bulletin board that resides on our company/community server. I went to high school with kids who didn't have Terri's vocabulary or literacy levels.

"While you're on line, what's the community calendar look like today?" I asked.

"Just a sec," Terri said.

"I got it," Rachel followed. She picked up her iPad. "Says Mom is makin' something kosher. 'Community feed at Weismanns', it says."

"I need to go see if she wants help."

"Oh, it's a nasty day out. She's probably doing that chicken soup you like," Rachel answered.

"Still. I'm going to go see."

Beck's house smelled good. "This is my heritage, you know. Just like all you Cajuns."

"And my grandma and your grandma would've gotten along just fine, sharing recipes and talking about family."

"Don't you know it," she laughed. "I assume you've seen our daughters?"

"Yep. They're in the middle of my living room drawing cute dinosaurs."

"Oh, yeah. Terri-dactyl. Cute. That's from Jo."

"Terri says it's a sign."

Beck looked up from the cutting board. "Oh, that'll go over big. I can see it now. 'What's your sign?' 'Pterodactyl'."

I laughed. "I hadn't looked at it that way."

"Probably because YOUR husband never used that line on you."

"Sim did? Really?"

She laughed. "Oh yeah. Mister Slick, himself. I'm glad I got past that. I'm not that gullible. I figured anybody who tried that line was in serious need of help. Felt sorry for him."

"Turned out well, though, didn't it?" I said. Sim and Beck are a great addition to our bunch. They're the 'normal couple'. Well, Jason and Susan are almost normal, too, but Sim and Beck? You see them, you just automatically think of a normal nuclear family.

But don't say 'nuclear family' around Cindy. She's got a paper entitled "Who Dropped the Bomb on the Nuclear Family" and it took honorable mention in a social studies fair when she was in middle school in Alabama. Honorable Mention? Not a big deal unless you factor in the knowledge that she was a middle schooler competing against the high school students on a regional level.

"You're doing kosher chicken soup..." I'd had it before. Great stuff. Beck says generations of Jewish mothers will attest to its curative properties, up to and including cancer.

"With matzoh balls," Beck added.

"And Cindy's doing cookies."

"Probably not QUITE kosher, but close enough for Alabama," Beck smiled. "It's all good. Cindy brings a lot of interesting things to our lives. You all do."

"We all do, Beck. I don't know how Terri would handle it without Rachel. They're like bookends."

"They're scary, you know."

"I know," I said. "What I don't know is what I can do with Terri."

"You can't keep her down, Tina," Beck said. "I'm working past fifth grade level with Rachel. Terri's so far past that point that it scares me. Sim needs to talk with the university again." She looked at me. "If you and Alan want that, I mean. And I haven't the foggiest idea of what they might do with her."

"Well, if they can place Cindy and Nikki, they should be able to do something for Terri. She had that interview with the staff psychologist. She's talked, we've talked with a few people." I sighed. "I'm almost afraid to find out where she'd end up. She just about goes toe to toe with Cindy and Nikki sometimes."

"Tina," Beck said, "You have an eight year old daughter..."

"Who may be college material," I injected.

"Yes, she has a brain that is certainly capable. But the rest of her is eight. Including an odd predilection for subverting the normal world's ideas of what an eight year old girl should be doing. For that, I'm grateful. But she's still eight. Like Rache. Prone to flights of imagination and creative tangents and short attention spans. All we can do is try to channel that energy into something useful."

That's one reason I like talking to Beck. Amazingly level-headed, she is. Not that my Alan isn't, but Beck's got 'mommy genes', and not just normal 'mommy genes' but the supercharged Jewish Mother version. Or am I stereotyping? And is it stereotyping if you are very happily envious?

"You know, you're right, my Jewish sister," I said.

She smiled at me. "Gosh, I hope so. I can't think of any better answers and I sure don't get a comfy feeling when I talk with some of the 'professional educator' types. Sim accuses me of being anti-intellectual. I'm not anti-intellectual. I'm anti-'people who think they're intellectual but aren't'. Especially the ones who don't have kids of their own but who will happily apply their bright ideas to mine."

I was helping Beck shape matzoh balls when we heard the door open, letting in a pair of attitudes with legs. Bearing a tray.

"Mom," Rachel said, "Cindy sent you some cookies. Said it's to hold you over until the soup's ready."

"It's our oatmeal-raisin fusion recipe," Terri added. "SO very multi-cultural. Scottish oats. Mediterranean raisins. American pecans." Giggle. Times two. "And spices from the Glorious Sub-continent by way of Chandra's Magical Spice Box."

"Yes, Mom," Rachel said. "We're thinking of saris and bindis and getting adopted by Grandma Desai too."

Beck rolled her eyes. "My dear mother is going to die. Her daughter moves off into the wilderness..."

"Wilderness?" I asked.

"Yes. The Tuchmanns regard anything besides New York as wilderness, except maybe Miami. And I marry a guy who's the wrong kind of doctor..."

"PhD, not MD," I laughed. I'd heard some of this before.

" ... And I can only come close to keeping kosher by herculean efforts. And now I'm sending her a picture of her beloved grand-daughter and her unmistakably non-Jewish best friend in saris complete with bindis." Beck sighed. "We'll be gone for a week for the funeral."

"You don't have send her pictures," I said.

A titter of laughter came from Beck. "I would not miss this chance for the world!"

"You're a horrible, horrible person, Rebekkah Weismann," I laughed.

"Am I, now? My husband and daughter love me as much as yours love you."

"Yes, indeed," I laughed "The world spins on the lubrication of the deluded."

"And I'm the horrible one."

"No," I laughed. "That's a Cindyism."

"Why, dear friend, is it that every conversation we have always seems to have a Cindy component to it?"

"That's a good question," I said. "First time I met her, it was as if I had found something I never knew was missing."

Beck shook her head. "I'm just glad she chooses to use her superpowers for good instead of evil."

"Yeah. Alan says that the only thing that keeps her and Nikki from world domination is that nobody will make them the parts."

"No, I have it on good authority that Susan could make them the parts. " She waved a machined pepper mill at me, one of Susan's 'I wanna make something for everybody' projects. "So it's just their amazing good natures."

"It's a strange world we live in," I said.

"Yes. The surprises. So many of them. And they're all happy."

"Mostly," I conceded. No sense in bringing up the incident at the Desai restaurant. Of course, now every week or so there's an unmarked police unit parked in front of the restaurant or the office. Those guys stop by for coffee. The thought crosses my mind. Of our group of twelve, three of us have killed in self defense.

If I add Stoney and Jo...

"Have you heard the latest from Stoney and Johanna?" I asked.

"No," Beck replied. "What's up?"

"They have a new friend. High school girl. Violinist. Jo says she's really good."

"Really?"

"Yes, we've talked. Her name is Kara, her dad's a wealthy attorney who doesn't seem to have time for a daughter."

Beck's next interjection almost floored me. "So when's she moving in?"

"Uh..." I was somewhat stunned. "We've talked on the phone and Skyped a couple of times. The subject hasn't come up."

"Yet," Beck returned. "You guys seem to attract the unusual and the smart and the talented."