In early March, Gwen and Grandmother celebrated their birthdays. Grandmother disliked the fact that her birthday came during such an ugly month, but Gwen liked the fact that she had an excuse to celebrate and brighten up the boring days. In spring and summer, when so much else was happening, one's birthday could just slip by. In a month like March or November or February, though, it became an Event.
Grandmother asked Gwen how she would like to celebrate.
"Would you like a party with some of your new school chums over, or a family celebration, or a combination of the two, or something else entirely?"
Gwen thought about it. She wouldn't mind a party … she could invite Fanny and the girls from her track and field team. But then, the last time she'd had a birthday party like that was when she was a little girl, and she was afraid she wouldn't know how to act at a grown-up party.
A family celebration might be nice, but the truth was that Gwen was starting to feel the pressure of being the "parent" to her younger siblings. Lee had taken to sleeping almost every night in Aunt Nan's bed, for fear of waking up with nightmares in a room all alone, and Jo came to Gwen what seemed like every five minutes, with either a question or a need or just wanting "to chat." As much as she loved her little brother and sister, sometimes Gwen wondered how on earth Mother managed to get through each day without wanting to run and hide. She supposed it had something to do with being a mother instead of just an older sister.
"I think, Grandmother," she said slowly, "I'd like to do something special, just you and me."
Grandmother smiled. "That sounds lovely. What did you have in mind?"
So it was, on the Saturday that fell between their two birthdays, that Gwen and Grandmother were at the Glen train station bright and early in the morning. Lynde had fed them a special birthday breakfast of eggs and pancakes and bacon (Grandfather agreed to let Gwen break her training diet for one day), the children were left with Uncle Shirley and Aunt Persis, Phil and Grandfather were going to spend the day snowshoeing, and both women were wearing their finest frocks.
Gwen thought Grandmother looked positively regal in her pale green dress, with her long black coat over it and a chic black hat with the tiniest of veils atop her silvery head. "I do love pretty clothes," Grandmother confessed. "Even though I am an old woman and supposed to be beyond such interests. Whenever Persis or Faith gets a catalog with the latest styles, she brings it right over to Ingleside and we pore over the fashions together!"
"I like pretty clothes too, but I always feel awkward in anything that I haven't already worn for a few years," Gwen said. "And I never know if something is really fashionable, or if it's just something that I like!"
Today she was wearing the dress that Aunt Jenny had sent for her birthday. Aunt Jenny had exquisite taste, and this was Gwen's first truly grown-up outfit ever. Made of blue-grey wool, almost the exact shade of Gwen's eyes, the slim, pleated skirt fell to just above her pretty ankles. The collarless top buttoned at the wrists and neck, and a black belt encircled her waist. Aunt Jenny had included a note with the package giving Gwen the strictest instruction to only wear the dress for church or other occasions where she would have no opportunity to spill or tear, but Grandmother agreed that this day was special enough to warrant the wearing of it.
Gwen almost felt like a princess in her beautiful new dress, even if her hair was still too short and straight to be truly fashionable. When they saw Oliver Grant and Mr. Grant also waiting for the train, she didn't even blush when Grandmother crossed over to say hello.
"Off to Charlottetown, Mrs. Blythe?" Mr. Grant asked.
Grandmother smiled. "Yes, Gwen and I are celebrating our birthdays with a special day in town."
"That sounds splendid," Mr. Grant said. "Oliver and I are visiting Queen's."
"Oh, are you going to be going to Queen's next year, Oliver?" Grandmother asked interestedly.
Oliver shrugged. "I'm not sure, Mrs. Blythe, but I at least wanted to look at the school for myself before making a decision."
"I don't want him to feel that he has to stay at the High just because of his mother and me," Mr. Grant explained. "We want him to explore all his options."
"Very sound," Grandmother said approvingly.
The Grants rode in the same car as Grandmother and Gwen to Charlottetown. The adults did most of the talking, as Gwen was still somewhat shy around her principal and his son, though her new pretty dress did help give her some confidence. Oliver didn't say much either, but Gwen wasn't sure if that was because he was shy or if he was just being polite. She wished she could think of something clever to say to him, but her mind remained blank.
"Enjoy your day, ladies," Mr. Grant said, tipping his hat to them as they disembarked at the station in Charlottetown.
"Thank you," Grandmother called gaily. "Say hello to Queen's for me!" As the Grants moved off, Grandmother looked at Gwen.
"Well, you were awfully quiet on the ride here, Gwen. Did we old folks bore you too much?"
"Oh no," Gwen said seriously. "I always like listening to adults talk. I just never know what to say, myself, so I usually don't say anything at all."
"Well, what about Oliver? You could have talked to him."
Then Gwen did blush. "He's too clever, Grandmother. I'm always afraid I'll sound like an idiot if I talk to him."
"You don't worry about that with Fanny, do you?"
"Sometimes," Gwen admitted with a laugh. "But not usually." She turned thoughtful. "How strange! I never thought of that before. I wonder why I'm so much more nervous around Oliver than I am with Fanny?"
Judging by the blush, Grandmother had a fairly good idea of why that might be, but she wisely held her tongue.
"Come," she said instead. "Charlottetown awaits us!"
The two women visited an art gallery first, tip-toeing through the carpeted rooms and speaking in hushed voices. Gwen didn't know anything about art, but she and Grandmother had a fine time debating and discussing what they liked and disliked about each one, and seeing where they agreed and disagreed. They both decided they very much liked Vermeer: Grandmother's favourite was "The Milkmaid"; Gwen found herself returning again and again to "The Girl with a Pearl Earring." The haunting expression in the girl's eyes, the way she looked like she was yearning to tell them a secret … it was fascinating.
"I ought," Grandmother said with a slight laugh, pausing in front of "The Lady of Shalott" by Waterhouse, "I ought to say this is my favourite. How romantic I found Elaine when I was your age! Nearly drowning cured me of that, though."
Gwen knew the story well, and she laughed, too. "But just think, Grandmother, if that hadn't happened, Grandfather would never have rescued you, and you might never have forgiven him for calling you Carrots. It is romantic."
"How I bit poor Jane Andrews' head off for insinuating as much," Grandmother mused. "Ah well, it's all a matter of predestination, and Mrs. Lynde and Miss Lavender both told me!"
After the art gallery (Gwen secretly bought a print of "The Milkmaid" for Grandmother) they moved on to a museum and then, deciding they'd had enough culture for the morning, ate lunch in a small café by the water.
"And what shall we do with our afternoon, my Gwen?" Grandmother asked over her onion soup.
"Shopping, of course," Gwen answered with twinkling eyes. "What else?"
"Excellent," Grandmother declared. "It's been ages since I've been able to do any shopping without your grandfather hovering over my shoulder anxiously asking if I really need this or that."
Gwen laughed merrily. They all knew Grandfather was terribly indulgent, always buying Grandmother expensive presents for no reason at all. Usually it ended with Grandmother scolding him for being so impractical, and Grandfather declaring that the only thing money was good for was to use for one's loved ones.
"And putting food on the table, Dr. Blythe," Lynde would sniff.
"Are we shopping for clothing or other items?" Grandmother asked now.
Gwen had her birthday money from Mother and Dad in her black handbag. They had sent it along with a note telling her to buy anything she wanted (and a promise that a real present was coming soon), but what she really wanted was to spend it on the children. She wanted to get Jo an album for all his India stamps and post-cards; Lee the latest Nancy Drew mystery (personally, Gwen thought the girl-detective was cloying; she had preferred Phil's Hardy Boy books when she was Lee's age); and she desperately wanted to get Phil a microscope like Uncle Carl's. That would cost far more than her limited birthday money would cover, though, so she would settle for a magnifying glass.
After all, she would be getting presents from everyone else, so why would she need to spend the money on herself? Besides, nothing she could find would even come close to matching this beautiful dress from Aunt Jenny!
"No clothes," she told Grandmother firmly. "Not today. The bookstore, though, most certainly, and wherever we can find a good magnifying glass."
"The bookstore," Grandmother said, "is even better than clothing." And then she motioned the waitress over to order some ice cream.
When they finally returned home that evening, Gwen was tired and content. She hadn't had quite enough money on her own to buy everything she had wanted for everyone (at the last minute, she'd realized that she wanted to get something for Lynde, and for Grandfather as well), but Grandmother had chipped in to make up the difference. Gwen promised to pay her back, but Grandmother wouldn't hear of it.
"Someday, Gwen, when you have grandchildren, you will want to do the same for them. Trust me, having you youngsters around is worth far more to your grandfather and me than anything money can buy."
Gwen laughed a little at the idea of herself as a grandmother. "Why Grandmother," she protested, "I'd have to be married before I could have grandchildren!"
"What, don't tell me you don't ever plan to marry?"
"I don't think I'll ever find a man who would be willing to put up with me," Gwen confessed. "Even Phil gets exasperated with me at times, and he's as close to a saint as any human being could be. My cousin Jeremy is my best friend, and even he gets tired of my clumsiness and stubbornness and awkwardness. Besides, men don't like ugly women."
"My dear Gwen, your grandfather fell in love with me when I was a stubborn, hot-tempered, ignorant little savage, with only the thinnest veneer of civilization laid on me by Marilla Cuthbert. And I had red hair. Someday you'll meet a man who loves you despite—no, because of!—all your flaws, and then you'll know that he's the man for you."
What Grandmother thought, but was wise enough to not say, was that Gwen was delightful, charming, and perfectly beautiful, and that any man would be a fool not to love her.
Some things were simply best left for time to reveal, not a doting grandmother.
They walked companionably home through the darkening evening. Snow was still piled high along the fields, but the air was promising spring. Gwen breathed deeply and smiled. Given enough time, she could come to love this little village more than she ever had loved Kingsport.
Every light in Ingleside was on when they came up the drive, flaming a welcoming beam. Grandmother shook her head.
"Men! They never think of expense."
They crowded onto the verandah—Grandfather and Phil, Lee and Jo, even Lynde, all smiling and waving.
"We turned on all the lights to welcome you!" Lee shouted.
Jo launched himself onto his sister as soon as she came up the steps. "What did you bring me?"
"What makes you think she brought you anything, you greedy blighter?" Phil asked.
Jo smiled serenely. "She always does."
Gwen couldn't hold her laughter back; it bubbled out irrepressibly. As wonderful as it had been, having a day alone with Grandmother, feeling like an independent woman, it was even better to come back to this.
"Come inside," she said, wrapping her arm around Jo. "I have presents for all of you."
Jo was pleased with his album ("I was hoping for chocolate," he said candidly, "but this is almost as good."); Lee squealed with delight over the latest adventure of her beloved Nancy Drew; and Phil reassured Gwen that the magnifying glass was just as good, if not better, than the microscope.
"You see, I'm still not entirely sure that I want to be a scientist. I mean, what happens if in another few years I decide I like to do something different, and then I've got this expensive microscope for which I've no use? Whereas a magnifying glass is useful in many different ways."
Gwen knew he was just being kind—science was what he'd loved ever since he was a little boy, and Uncle Carl Meredith, famous entomologist and university professor, was his hero—but she appreciated his words all the same.
"Well, I am very thankful for this tobacco," Grandfather declared, kissing Gwen on the forehead. "Now if only Lynde will let me smoke my pipe inside!"
Lynde shook her head. "Tobacco smell is dreadful to get out of curtains and carpets, Dr. Blythe." Her hands gently caressed the cover of the new cookery book Grandmother had helped Gwen pick out. "You ought not to have gotten this for me, Gwen. Your birthday is supposed to be about you, not you getting things for other people."
Gwen shook her head firmly. "My birthday is about me being happy, and if it makes me happy to give things to those I love, well then, you'll just have to endure it!"
"I like the way you celebrate your birthday," Jo said in satisfaction.
Before going to bed that evening, though, Gwen did receive two presents for herself. One was from Grandmother—a framed print of The Girl with a Pearl Earring, for Gwen to have for her very own. Gwen promptly hung it above her desk in Mother's old room, where she could see it while she was studying.
The other came just as she was changing into her pyjamas and brushing her cropped locks. Lynde knocked on the door and entered the bedroom, her arms full of pink roses. Gwen promptly dropped the brush in surprise.
"Why, Lynde!"
"One of the Drew boys just dropped these off, said he couldn't tell who they were from or he wouldn't get paid," Lynde explained. "They're for you, though."
"Oh!" Gwen took them in her own arms and breathed in their spicy scent. "Roses in March! Who could have done this?" She'd never received roses before, not from anyone.
"Oh, probably your grandfather and brother planned it today," Lynde surmised. "It's the sort of thing they would do."
Lee was hovering behind Lynde, her eyes wide with delight. "Maybe you have a secret admirer, Gwennie!"
Gwen laughed. "I think Lynde's theory is more likely, Lee-love."
Lynde hurried off to get a vase and water, and then Gwen arranged the roses on her desk, right below her new picture.
Fifteen, she decided, was going to be a spectacular year.