Before Getting to the Point: A Slightly Unnerving Aside

The narrative of our first days in San Francisco is something like the hills themselves—rising to peaks before falling into crevices and rising to peaks again. Yesterday, I left off at a peak, but we were just rounding the top on the way downward, and, although it has little to do with my promised “point,” I thought it might be worth recording our first morning in the new house.

We woke well rested and ready to explore. Most of the children, as admitted yesterday, were pretty much dressed and headed directly downstairs to watch Daddy scramble eggs and brew coffee (the familiar Saturday tradition putting a smile on everyone’s face). Every few seconds brought a cry of interest or elation, “Look! They have the complete works of Shakespeare, annotated!”--“That horse on the mantel must be Bucephalus!”-- “Our room has a terrace!” It was quite thrilling, really, and would have been perfectly magical for them if Mother had not been there to repeat continually, “Careful with that book—the binding looks delicate”--“Don’t touch that, it could break!”--“I don’t want the baby following you out to the terrace—come on back in.” [Do you ever wonder why authors always kill off the mothers in books? Well that’s why.]

The small city yard visible through the back windows was a miniature wonderland, with a classical gazebo and steps meandering through ornamental onion and hibiscus. Perfect, I thought, we’ll go outside where we can’t do any damage. Holding the baby on my hip, I stepped gingerly upon the brick patio, with Theresa and Margaret at my heels. The sky was gray, but nothing could detract from the perfectly planned and tended little garden, a sea of blooms without a square foot wasted or unadorned. To our delight, an impossibly small black hummingbird—the size of one of our wood bees at home—capered and flitted among the bell shaped blooms. The girls darted up and down stairs, with exclamations of wonder at every turn.

Surveying the back of the house, I noticed a basement door down a set of stone steps. Being the paranoid type and eager to see that all the entrances to our new domain were secure, I sent Theresa to try the door. To my surprise, she found it unlocked and called out to us. “It’s open, and there is a running fountain inside!”

Margaret and I followed her down, Eileen still leaning contentedly onto my shoulder in spite of the cool day. I hastened to wrap my shawl around her bare legs, realizing we would need to re-learn how to dress for June in San Francisco. Inside, we found no dingy old basement, but a pleasant breezeway lined with tastefully salvaged architectural ornaments surrounding a trickling fountain. (Funny that the fountain is turned on, I thought to myself.) “Look, it leads to the street,” Theresa observed, “Let’s look at the front of the house.”

The second glass door shut behind us, and we found ourselves outside on the front landing. Roses cascaded down a trellis over our heads, while a troupe of hollyhocks and marigolds danced at our feet. An old world iron fence rose to gold tipped points, giving the place the feel of a gilded fortress. If the house were a venerable old woman, she would not be one of those ladies who looks worse in the unforgiving rays of morning. No, this grand dame was more glorious now than ever she was at night, her gold leaf fleurets and finials rising up to salute the sun, and her stately three stories standing erect and timeless as the very hills at her feet.

I stood a while, craning my neck in admiration and reminding Margaret not to climb on the fence, when Theresa remembered that the eggs must be ready, and we ought to head back to the kitchen. The first glass door to the breezeway had locked itself behind us, and we could not retrace our steps, so I made my way round the building and up the front stairs, holding Eileen tightly in my shawl to keep the morning chill from reaching her bare legs. I stood ringing the bell for about five minutes to no avail, when it occurred to me that Theresa and Margaret were being awfully quiet. I called to them, but heard no answer. This was strange, I thought, descending the steps to see what had become of them. Rounding the bend to the side of the house, I was surprised to find that they were not there. Peering through the glass door, I caught a glimpse of an adult—I could not tell if it was a man or woman—inside the breezeway and hastily re-entering the basement of the house! The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Here I was in a strange city, and there was an adult clearly avoiding me, and my two children were gone without a word.

I tried the door again, but it was locked securely, so I began to pound on it and call—no yell—“Margaret!!! Theresa!!!” I pounded and pounded, calling out over and over, but no one came. Still clutching Eileen, I raced round the front of the house and bounded up the wooden stairs, buzzing the bell emphatically, when Agnes came to the door, looking surprised to find me out front. “Have you seen Margaret and Theresa?!” I greeted her, without explanation. “They’re in the kitchen,” she answered, looking confused. “Are you sure?” I asked desperately.

By this time, Theresa was coming up behind her, and I demanded, “How did you get back through that locked door?!” Theresa looked surprised by my wild tone, saying mildly, “Marie let us in.”

It turns out Marie had come outside to join us in the yard. Looking through the breezeway, she noticed Margaret and Theresa. They had waved her forward, and she let them in. When pressed for an explanation of why they didn’t call me, Margaret and Theresa said they thought Daddy must have let me in through the front by then.

At this point, I made my way back to the kitchen, my heart giving itself permission to slow down. Daddy was still tending to the eggs when he said off-handedly, “There’s someone living downstairs. I think it is the owner of the building.”

For the first time, I looked at the clock and saw that it was not yet seven in the morning. (I was still on New York time and felt as if it was the middle of the day.) It was horrifying to consider that I had just been screaming and pounding outside the owner’s door at the crack of dawn on a Saturday, but that was not the worst of it. Entering the breakfast room with a plate full of steaming eggs, I found that the tablecloth on the kitchen table was almost identical in pattern and shade to my shawl, complete with a fringe around two ends! If the owner had caught a glimpse of me, did he or she think that the summer tenant was a mad woman pounding and shouting and wrapped in the tablecloth?!

Probably.

And what would my odd behavior do for the reputation of New Yorkers?

Confirm it, most likely.

I was off to a flying start.
[Marie in the back yard.]

Comments

[Kristen Laurence]

Oh my, Alice! What a fantastic story! My heart was pounding the whole time. I hope things have calmed down since that first day.

The townhome sounds delightful. I'd love to see more photographs!

[Kimberlee]

Oh, yes, yes, more illustrations for this most delightful travel journal! (Though of course your words do paint such expressive pictures on their own.) I anxiously await the next delicious chapter!

[MacBeth]

For a moment, I thought you had lifted a great time travel story from some novel...the adult being Patrick-in-the-future. I love the photos. More, please!

[clarice]

It sounds like a trip to a magical land, but then SF is magical. Clarice

[Jennifer]

You are exactly right - it never occured to me that the absent monther in all children's novels would put a quick end to these fabulous adventures. How funny. Can't wait to read more!

[Heather - NY]

What a drama!!! I agree with the other comments - I felt transported into a novel!!! Thanks for taking the time to share. I'm eager for more :)

[Theresa ♥]

Oh wow, what a tale retold! The garden sounds beautiful. I'd love to see more pictures also. How long will you be there?

[Beth]

Goodness! Well, I'm glad everything turned out alright, it is always disjointing to be in a new home ... can't wait to hear more, you are leaving us in some suspense!

[Catherine]

Oh, Alice, this was a delicious story! So glad it had a happy ending! You sound like you're living a tale out of the "Mitchell's" series! I agree, I can't wait to hear more!

[betty]

You certainly write a vivid visual!!! I think this trip would make an exciting book and perhaps even a MOVIE!!! I was right there in the moment with you to the point that my heart, too, was beating fast! Do you suppose you could back up and relive this day and get it on video? What a great post! The last part was so funny!

[Lynn]

This is a good book! Please continue!

And how my heart went out to you as I too have been known to go into full blown panic within three seconds of not knowing where one or more of the children are.

But I was cracking up also because your description was so funny ~ laughing with you, not at you,
hugs and prayers,
Lynn

[aussieannie]

I can't write anything Alice, everyone has expressed my thoughts completely! I'll just say, "All's well that ends well!~"

[Beck]

Good grief, that was an eerie story - with a sudden and hilarious resolution! That image of you running around in the tablecloth - heh!

[Cay in La.]

I do think I hear a great children's story in the works. Better than the Penderwicks, I dare say. :)

More photos! More photos! More photos!

Please. ;)

[KC]

Yes, more photos!! This is great and the anticipation. I actually held my breath!

[Maria]

What an adventure my friend!

[Lissa]

Since I'd already chewed my nails off over your retelling of this tale on the phone, I was able to relax and enjoy the comedy in this splendid rendition. Even knowing how it ended, you made me laugh out loud with the tablecloth! This is bound to become another staple of my girls' repetoire of "Gunther Girls stories."

(Alice knows this, but the rest of you don't--several times a week, my kids demand to hear their favorite anecdotes about Alice's children. We have a whole arsenal of hilarious Gunther tales, and if Alice weren't such a fabulous writer herself I would be stealing them right and left!!)

Can't wait for the next chapter, dahling.

[Lorri]

June in SF - I've never been so cold! It'll warm up in October for about 2 weeks. ;)

[Helen (Mary Vitamin)]

These are great Alice!
I think you are giving me an inkling into what Charles Dickens readers felt while they waited for the next chapter of one of his books!

[Alicia]

I am hanging onto every word, Alice! And I can't wait to read more adventures!

[Jennie C.]

Maybe you were wearing a tablecloth, but then again, maybe the table was wearing a shawl!

[Kathy]

What a way to keep your readers coming back. I can't wait to read more about our exciting adventures in San Francisco.

[Marybeth]

Oh,Alice! I was really laughing about the killing off the mothers statement. How scary and unnerving for you..this will become part of your family forklore for sure. Nephew C would love for Daddy Gunther to rent a townhome for you in Chicago for next summer. :)

[Mary G.]

My sister and brother learned to drive clutch on those hills! I just decided to wait until I lived somewhere else before I even attempted driving ...