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Copyright © 1990,2001 Richard R. Kennedy All rights reserved. Revised: May 14, 2002
Subhead completes Ch. 1: TL&W Sally’s Grandmother Dolores Byron and her child as was customary visited the grandmother on Saturdays. They always went in the back door which was left open for them. Sally put a small white bag on the kitchen nook table. Sarah was at the dining room table checking her student papers. Her daughter whined sharply, “Oh, mother, grading papers again!”
Without peering over the glasses on the end of her nose, she said, “What else? Surely, Dolores, you weren’t expecting me to be rolling out dough on the table for homemade noodles.” Mrs. Byron chuckled. “No, surely not that. But as a matter of fact, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have some fresh buns in the oven for us once in a while.” “Oh?...you didn’t bring in any?” Sarah asked mildly surprised, but still she went on reading the paper before her. “Yes, Nanny, I put them on the kitchen table,” Sally quickly offered as she hugged her grandmother who beamed and took off her glasses and reciprocated with a squeeze and a kiss. “And how’s my best pupil? Did you finish reading all the captions in the picture book I gave you?” The girl nodded with pride as she looked over her grandmother’s shoulder to peek at what she was reading. Dolores rejoined, “Every last one of them three times—once to me.” The grandmother looked at her granddaughter. “Repetition is only a value if you have nothing else to do, Sara. But there are always other assignments, you know.” “Mother, really! Please don’t refer to them as assignments. She’s a long way from entering school.” Dolores looked at Sally, ordering, “Sally, take out the buns and put them on a dish. I’ll be in to put the coffee on. Pour a glass of milk for yourself.” Sally scampered off. Sarah slid back the chair. “No, I’m perfectly capable of putting on the coffee.” “I wasn’t sure,” Dolores said solemnly. “I sometimes feel I’m imposing.”
“Nonsense, even though you know perfectly well this is term report time, I nevertheless, look forward to these visits. I must confess that I’d enjoy them more if you’re father were alive to share the moments.” “Yes, I often think how much he would have enjoyed Sally,” Dolores said sadly.
“And have spoiled her outrageously.” Dolores chuckled. “Oh? As much as you do?”
“More so,” and adding sarcastically, “He wouldn’t have papers to grade.” “Well, you must admit, mother, it’s always the busy time of year with you. Professors are all alike—constant pressure. That’s why I could never finish college.” “That was not the reason and you know it. You were simply too interested in your social life to make minimal sacrifice,” her mother cried irritably. “God, knows the sacrifices I made to try to help you till I realized how dishonest I was in virtually doing your work.” “I never asked you to, mother. And you know why you did it. You were embarrassed by my work. To think a child of yours could be such a failure.” Sarah stood up, touching her daughter’s hand. “Touché, my darling, it is all in the past.” Dolores countered, “Ah, but my daughter is in the present. I fear you will not let her grow naturally.”
“Balderdash! Sara is perfectly natural—just naturally bright.” Dolores lowered her eyes and voice. “I see, she makes up for...”
Sarah squeezed her daughters arms. “Hush, my darling daughter; don’t ever think that. I love you. We are each entitled to be what we are.” “Still, you were disappointed in me.” “That I’ll not deny—but truly never ashamed. I suspect I’m one of those who try to make a child in their own image. A terrible vice, I admit, but forgivable.” “But unforgiving if guilty of the vice with Sally.” “No guilt, dear, there’s no need to interfere with her. She’s exceptional and will develop in her own way. What’s the harm if I nudge her once in a while?” “Oh, mother, you’re impossible.” “No, dear, you will discover that Sara will become impossible to handle but in an interesting way.” Then she knit her blonde, graying brows and added, “Still, if I had my way....Why, the dear child belongs in first grade already,” she said with mild vexation. “I wish you would reconsider placing her in private school.” “Please, mother, we’ve been through this. I want her to grow up normally.” “Good grief, Dolores, she is far from a normal child! Come, let’s not ruin the day. I’ll make the coffee.” She led her daughter to the kitchen. 
They both laughed when they saw Sally nibbling on a crumb bun and reading aloud the Saturday edition of the Journal American color comics.
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