Max's eyes flitted about until they laid on Jo's mother. She was a stout woman, with a fleshy body and large hips. She had a shock of red hair—much brighter than Jo's. She wore a black pillbox hat, a white fur coat ("Australian lamb," Jo whispered to Max later), and black square-toed flats. Her make up was heavy on her pale face and her perfume was so strong Max could almost taste it. She tried to hide her grimace as Jo let her mother into the living room.
"Is this your little ward, Josephine?" Mrs. Amable said in a husky voice as soon as she laid eyes on Max, sitting stiffly on the couch. She took off her coat and Jo hung it on a pink plastic hanger.
"Call her by her name, Mother," Jo said. "This is Max."
"Max? Who in their right mind would name a child Max? Max is the name you call a dog, not a little girl. Has she got a last name?" Mrs. Amable fluffed her orange mane and took off her hat. Underneath the coat she was wearing a pink dress with black piping trim and fat black buttons parading down the front. Around her neck was a large sparkling diamond cross, easily five inches long and four inches wide. Max's eyes sparkled along with it in envy.
Josephine panicked. Her eyes roamed around the room, the gears in her mind turning. She then saw her latest novel on the side table, Dearly Beloved by Carmen Guevara. "Max Guevara," Josephine blurted. Max raised a critical eyebrow.
"Well, I suppose it's somewhat better," Mrs. Amable sighed, as if it was out of her hands. She pecked Josephine's cheek with a quick kiss and sat primly on the armchair somewhat diagonally from the couch where Max was sitting. "She could be a pretty child but for that ghastly hair."
Josephine cleared her throat and sat on the couch next to Max, "Um, Mother?" Think, Jo! Quick! "Max has cancer. Her hair is like that because she lost it from the chemotherapy."
"Oh," Mrs. Amable clutched her chest as if she were the one with "cancer" and looked terrified. "Oh, my word. I'm sorry, my dear child. Are you in any pain?"
"No, ma'am," Max answered truthfully. "I'm fine."
"How dreadful for parents to give up a cancerous child," Mrs. Amable shook her head, clucking her tongue like a chicken. "Max, you are one lucky lady to live with someone like my daughter, all though I don't think you should be."
Max opened her mouth to give an answer but a quick glare from Jo shut it.
"How old are you, dear?" Mrs. Amable asked.
"Nine. How old are you?"
"Max!" hissed Josephine and fearfully watched for her mother's reaction.
Instead of fuming with fury, Mrs. Amable's tight-lipped smile broke into a wide grin and chuckled, surprising Josephine.
"It is not polite to ask ladies such as I their ages, dear," Mrs. Amable said light heartedly. "But I will tell you I'm older than you probably think I am."
"I bet I can guess," Max smiled brazenly.
"Max!" Josephine scolded again.
Mrs. Amable clucked again, "Josephine, the child doesn't know better. It's amusing. I bet she would get a kick out of hanging out with Rachael, eh?"
"Oh for the love of Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Josephine muttered.
"Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain, Josephine."
There was that Mary lady again, thought Max. She must be really important where Jo grew up.
"Where are you from, Max?" Jo's mother continued.
"Manticore," Max said, slipping. She bit her lip until she tasted blood and winced. Uh-oh…
"I don't believe I've heard of Manticore. What state is that in?"
"Manticore is the name of the orphanage she was at, Mother," Josephine said quickly. "It's in, ah, Portland."
"How nice. I hear Portland is lovely in the fall."
Josephine breathed a silent sigh of relief. All of a sudden, Mrs. Amable clapped her hands sharply and said, "Josephine, guess who died last week?"
"Here we go," Jo whispered to Max. "Who, Mother?"
"That man your father used to work with, the one with the blind wife and four children? Hank Fiebig."
"You don't say."
"He just keeled over, never knew what hit him."
"Mother, I don't think we should discuss this in front of Max."
Dropping her gossip, Mrs. Amable sighed. "Oh, I suppose it's the courteous thing to do…Josephine, I'm famished. Is there any thing for lunch?"
Max's stomach growled. She was hungry too.
"I'll go check," Josephine said. She stood, straightening her black shirt and smoothing the forest green top and sauntered into the kitchen.
"Now that Josephine is gone, my dear," Mrs. Amable moved off the armchair and slid onto the sofa. "We can really get to know each other."
Max didn't know how to answer that.
"Tell me, did you know your parents?"
If I knew that I wouldn't be in Manticore, would I? she thought. "No."
"That's terrible. Do you have any siblings?"
"Yes, I do. Eleven."
"My goodness," laughed Mrs. Amable. "What a funny little girl you are."
"Your cross is very pretty," Max said with a fake smile.
"Aren't you precious! Josephine's father gave it to me on our wedding day. I almost never take it off. You should wear a cross yourself, dear. Why you're almost conformation age, aren't you?"
"Conformation?"
"My dear, you don't go to church?"
"We did not have religion at Manticore," Max said, her eyes glued to the sparkled cross. She wanted to touch it…to caress the diamonds that glittered, implanted in the priceless gold.
"My, my, my. You do not know about Christ?" Mrs. Amable fluffed out her hair.
Shaking her head, Max opened her eyes wide. Jo had said the Virgin Mary was the mother of Christ. "Can you tell me?"
Just then, Jo called from the kitchen: "Come and get it!"
Max was going to protest but the warm smells of good food wafting from the kitchen were too much to resist.
There's always later, she thought. The Blue Lady is always with me.