‘Of course. He was so happy,’ smiled Birdie. ‘He wanted a big family. Triplets are hard to carry for any woman and he was so attentive and lovely.’
‘Did you miss working at Pajaro after you had us?’ asked Violetta.
‘I don’t know what that is,’ said Birdie, her face clouding. ‘Spencer asked me the same thing but I don’t know what Pajaro means.’
She looked upset and, seeing Birdie’s face, Violetta stopped her line of questioning.
‘It’s OK, Mom, it’s fine, don’t think about it,’ she said soothingly.
Birdie reached out her hand and held Violetta’s in hers. ‘How is your life darling?’ she asked.
Violetta squeezed her mother’s hand gently. ‘It’s fine, Mom.’
‘And your job? You like it?’
‘I love it,’ she said truthfully.
‘And is there a young man on the horizon?’ Birdie asked.
Violetta thought about Jeff. Well, he wasn’t young; at 39 there was a 14-year age gap between them. ‘I am seeing someone,’ she said shyly.
‘Lovely. Who is he?’ Birdie asked, her eyes brightening.
‘He’s a doctor.’
‘How nice for you. You need someone clever, you were always the smartest of the Trinity.’ said Birdie, sitting back in her armchair.
‘That’s not true, Mom. I didn’t even finish college. Grace is the smart one,’ said Violetta, laughing.
‘Yes, Grace is clever but you are smart. Street smart, is what they call it. You have the smarts, Grace has the elegance and Carlotta has the courage. You have all the best bits of me,’ she said proudly.
‘What do we have of Dad’s?’ asked Violetta, searching her mother’s face.
‘You have his kindness. Carlotta has his patience. And Grace has his taste for the finer things in life. That child knew her Degas from her Delacroix by the time she was five,’ she said, laughing.
‘Do you think we look like Dad?’ asked Violetta. She saw the resemblance of her mother in her sisters’ faces but where was Spencer in them, now that Leon was not their father?
‘You look like Spencer’s mother,’ said Birdie, staring into the distance.
Violetta made a mental note to ask Spencer for pictures.
Birdie looked back to Violetta. ‘I think we need to make a donation to the hospital where they looked after me.’
‘OK,’ said Violetta. ‘I can ask Spence … I mean Dad to look into it.’
‘Or perhaps we can have a fundraiser dinner? Maybe that would be nice. I would like to get out of these terrible pants,’ she said, gesturing down to her sweat pants.
Violetta laughed. ‘OK, I will organise it if you like,’ she said, smiling at her mother’s vanity.
‘Wonderful. Now tell me about this job you have,’ demanded Birdie.
‘I work at Pajaro,’ said Violetta, and Birdie nodded her head intently. ‘And I am a fashion designer there. We have just done a new range, actually, in stores in two weeks.’
‘How lovely. What is the story you are telling? Fabrics?’ asked Birdie.
Violetta put her head to one side. Perhaps Birdie remembered more than she realised.
‘We have gone through the best sellers and made them relevant for now, chosen easy care, washable fabrics. Kept the colours in the classics with a few on trend colours also.’
