The Misfortunes of Others Read Free Page B

large eggplant which he had cooked, split down the middle and sprinkled with herbs. Maya ate one small portion of the shrimp dish, a few bites of the eggplant, and turned slightly green when offered the garlic bread.
    “No garlic, thanks, Snooks. I’m not up to it. I have morning sickness all day long if I eat the wrong stuff.”
    Snooky was penitent. “I didn’t think, Maya. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. Garlic, how stupid of me.”
    Bernard happily consumed three large helpings of the shrimp casserole, most of the garlic bread and at least two-thirds of the eggplant. He said little. Bernard never did saymuch, particularly at meals. Snooky passed him what remained of the bread.
    “Finish it off, Bernard. Finish what you’ve begun. God, watch him eat, Maya.”
    “I don’t like to watch anyone eat these days.”
    “I don’t think you have to worry about putting on a lot of excess weight with your pregnancy, Missy. I don’t think you’ll get the chance. Who’s been cooking for you the last couple of months? Not Bernard?”
    “Yes, Bernard,” said Bernard.
    “Pitiful. What’s it been, Maya? Canned beans every night?”
    “You underrate him, Snooky. You’ve always underrated him. Bernard can be quite a good cook, when called upon. He’s made me some delicious meals.”
    “Oh, please. What does that mean? Scrambled eggs?”
    “I make very good scrambled eggs.”
    “Anyone can make very good scrambled eggs, Bernard. It doesn’t require any talent. What else have you served? TV dinners?”
    Bernard bristled. “I wouldn’t serve Maya TV dinners. There are a number of things I make that are good. Things I learned how to make when I was living on my own.”
    “Name one.”
    “Beef Stroganoff.”
    Snooky was surprised. “Really? Beef Stroganoff? Is it edible, Maya? Yes? I owe you an apology, Bernard. I didn’t realize you had such hidden talents. I’ve never seen you make beef Stroganoff.”
    “I’ve never made it for you,” said Bernard pointedly.
    “And—correct me if I’m wrong here, Bernard—I bet you never will. Coffee, Maya?”
    “No, Snooks.”
    “Bernard?”
    “Yes.”
    Bernard grunted in satisfaction when Snooky served him coffee and dessert, bananas fried with brown sugar and honey. He settled down to eat, bearlike, a large dark bearded man hunched over the table, humming softly to himself.
    Maya picked dispiritedly at her dessert. “I can’t do it, Snooks. It looks delicious, but I can’t eat it. My appetite isn’t what it used to be.”
    “You never ate much, Missy. Don’t worry. I know somebody whose appetite appears to be unaffected by the recent turn of events.”
    Bernard hummed happily to himself.
    Snooky, who also never ate much, pushed his serving and Maya’s across the table at his brother-in-law. “No waste,” he said, and sat back to drink his coffee, watching Bernard with amusement over the edge of his cup.
    After dinner Maya took Snooky upstairs to see the nursery.
    “It’s not in very good shape yet,” she said on the way up the tortuous flight of stairs. “It’s the extra bedroom on the second floor.”
    “The one that always had all the junk in it?”
    “That’s right. Bernard cleaned it out. Now we’re trying to decide what color to paint it.”
    They passed Bernard’s study, Maya’s study, and the master bedroom. Maya went to a door at the end of the hallway and flung it open. “Here it is. What do you think? Use your imagination.”
    Snooky stood in the doorway for a long time, looking around the room. “Well … it’s clean, at least.”
    The room was immaculately clean, all the boxes removed, the dust swept away. It was a small room with a slantingceiling and a pretty view of the fir trees and sloping lawn at the side of the house.
    “It’s not so bad, is it?”
    “The wallpaper will have to go.”
    “I know that.”
    The wallpaper, inherited from the previous tenant, was a loud splashy floral design in metallic hues of