Chapter Six
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Despite[/i] his father’s indifference and—as he would overhear his mother put it later to Linda Snicket over the telephone—‘deliberate avoidance’ of his baking competition, Jerome still managed to enjoy his Saturday morning. In the morning after breakfast, he went with his mother and brother to Blue Melody Academy and attended Andrew’s soccer game. As promised, Maxwell Squalor was there to support his youngest son, but silently slipped away while the team was celebrating its victory. Just as he’d done the night before, Jerome kept his opinion on this matter to himself. His mother shook her head forlornly, and he patted her on the shoulder as an added reminder of exactly how much he cared.
Following Andrew’s soccer tournament, the family of three minus one headed across town to Veblen Hall where Jerome’s baking competition was being held. When at last the time came for the judge to present him with a blue ribbon, the entire room erupted in applause, Cora’s and Andrew’s being loudest of all. Jerome, lost in his rare moment of self pride, smiled for the camera as the photographer snapped his photograph for the next day’s edition of
The Daily Punctilio.Having never experienced so much praise and attention (especially all at once), Jerome fumbled to find the appropriate words during his brief interview with Gerard Julienne. Barely any of the answers Jerome gave were spared from his nervous stutter, and he hoped no one who read the newspaper would be able to tell.
He was grateful when Cora and Andrew finally managed to push themselves through the crowd, which was a combination of paparazzi and spectators. While Cora worked to save Jerome from having to answer any more unwanted questions, Andrew concentrated on saving the remainder of his brother’s strawberry shortcake. After all, there were many interested in tasting the masterpiece that had won First Place in the city’s baking competition.
“Sorry, sorry,” Andrew said as he hurried after his mother and brother, who were headed in the direction of the two double doors on the other side of the room. “If you want to taste this, then you’ll have to talk to my brother about baking you one, or ask him for the recipe.”
It wasn’t until the Squalors were standing outside on the concrete steps of Veblen Hall that Jerome was finally able to breathe again. His face was flushed, not so much from eluding the crowd as it was anxiety. He smiled appreciatively at Cora, and then at Andrew, who was holding out the cake to him.
“I saved this for you,” announced Andrew, rather proudly. “I didn’t think you’d want anyone trying to steal the thing that won you your blue ribbon.”
“Thanks, Andrew,” Jerome replied, and graciously accepted his prizewinner.
“Oh, would you look at the time,” said Cora, glancing at her wristwatch. “It’s nearly time for lunch.” She smiled, and her two sons saw immediately that a brilliant idea was brewing in her mind. “What do you say I take you both to lunch at the Veritable French Diner? After all, we have a lot to celebrate.”
“May I get a hamburger?” Andrew asked.
“It’s a
French restaurant,” Jerome reminded him, while at the same time making sure to remain courteous. “They don’t serve hamburgers.”
Still garbed in his soccer uniform, Andrew lowered his eyes disappointedly to his black cleats. “Oh.”
“I’m sure they’d be willing to make an exception, though,” Cora added, and Andrew immediately brightened up. “Linda and I once dined at a marvelous Mexican restaurant in Ophelia that served
pizza at the request of the customer.”
“Oh, boy!” With his hope renewed, Andrew Squalor skipped happily down the steps, his mother and brother following close behind.
~
The Squalors arrived at the Veritable French Diner right before the lunch-hour rush, making it feasible for them to get a table of their choice. Jerome requested a seat nearest the window, while Andrew wanted to sit at the bar as an excuse to park himself on one of the high stools. Cora, who found the latter to be more than a little inconvenient, opted for a booth with a view of the orange juice factories across the street. Andrew (who was happy enough to be getting his hamburger) saw no reason to complain, and willingly accompanied his family to their assigned dining quarter.
The waiter had barely handed them their menus and disappeared when Jerome caught sight of something—or, to put it more accurately, some
one—across the way. It was a pair, actually, and they had just stepped through the front doors of the restaurant.
The first was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties. He had very dark—almost black—hair, and dark eyes that reminded Jerome of chocolate-covered almonds. The young man was tall—not quite as tall as Olaf, but taller than average. But, unlike Olaf, this other man had the muscular build of an athletic runner, and his square features gave him what Cora Squalor had once described as ‘rugged good looks’.
However, it was the young man’s companion who had first captured Jerome’s attention. This other person was a young woman, and noticeably of his own age. Like the young man at her side, the young woman was also tall, with swollen curves that extended far beyond anyone else her age. Her complexion was unusually pale, causing her red lipstick to resemble a thick splotch of blood on her face. Her eyes were the deepest shade of blue Jerome had ever seen, while their accompanying lashes looked like a pair of feather dusters.
This mysterious young woman was, without a doubt, the most beautiful work of art Jerome Squalor had ever laid eyes on. A waiter soon met her and her companion, and led them down the isle of tables and booths. On their way past the Squalors’ booth, the young woman smiled sweetly at Jerome. He had not been able to take his eyes off her from the moment she’d entered the restaurant. His heart all but skipped a beat for that one very brief moment when he found himself the object of her attention. He had just enough time to notice the tiny, heart-shaped birthmark on the lower, left-hand side of her face, and he wondered how anyone so enchanting could possibly exist.
“What a pretty girl,” Cora mused, after the pair had crossed over to the opposite side of the room to a small table for two. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her or the man she’s with here before.”
“Are you gonna go talk to her, Jerome?” asked Andrew.
Jerome gaped at Andrew, as if he’d just suggested his elder brother go bungee-jump off the Golden Gate Bridge.
“Andrew, what—I don’t even
know her!”
“All the more reason to take your brother’s advice,” Cora advised.
“But…” Jerome glanced hastily over his shoulder at the other table. “But I wouldn’t even know what to
say. And besides, what if that man she’s with turns out to be her boyfriend? The only thing I’ll succeed at is in embarrassing myself.”
“Leave everything to me,” Andrew said. “I’m not afraid of being embarrassed.”
Before either Jerome or Cora could say anything more, Andrew Squalor was already sliding out of the booth. Next, Andrew started across the room to the couple’s small table, stopping only once to send his brother a reassuring smile.
His heart pounding once more, Jerome repositioned himself in the booth to observe the events about to take place. Peering from over the back of his seat, he watched Andrew draw closer to the small table. The young man appeared to say something comical to his companion, for she began to laugh. Jerome wondered what it sounded like. He wished his mother had chosen a closer place to sit, just so he could perceive the sound of the young woman’s laughter. He liked to imagine it was the type of sound that stuck easily inside one’s head, like a favorite song. He found himself speculating the question on whether or not she sang, when Andrew reached her table.
The young woman’s eyes left those of her companion and settled on the youngest Squalor. Jerome held his breath, releasing it when he saw the girl smile. She said something to Andrew, who responded before pointing in the direction of the booth. The girl looked in the spot he was indicating, and her eyes locked instantly with Jerome’s. Unfortunately, his nervousness caused him to drop behind the back of the booth like a soldier caught in the reign of fire.
Andrew returned moments later, his wide grin a clear sign that things at the other table had gone according to plan. “O.K., here’s the scoop,” he began. “Her name is Esmé Salinger and she lives with her guardian in a house not far from here. She goes to public school and will be turning sixteen in December. Oh, and that man she’s with isn’t her boyfriend, just a friend of hers.” He said everything as if he were a spy reporting to his boss on all of the details of his latest mission. “He said he’s gonna go outside and smoke a cigarette while you go over and talk to her. Don’t worry,” he added. “I’ve already told her how shy you are.”
Rather than ask Andrew what he’d possibly been thinking when he’d said that, Jerome merely inquired from his crouched position in the booth, “What did she say?”
“She said she doesn’t care. She thinks shy guys are sweet.”
This detail comforted Jerome, who smiled and sat up. “Well, I guess there’s only one thing left to do now, isn’t there?”
“You bet,” replied Andrew. “And Mother and I will be right here, watching you do it.”
“Good luck, Jerome,” Cora said. She had not taken her eye off either of her two children, ever since Andrew had taken it upon himself to play matchmaker for his elder brother.
“Do us proud.” Andrew flashed Jerome the thumb’s-up signal, as Jerome slid out of the booth and went to meet his destiny.
~
Just so you all know, Gerard Julienne is Geraldine's father.