“That’s the pity of it.” Her mother went on retelling what Judy knew. “At the age of ten she was improvising songs and pieces. We thought we had produced another Mozart. Now she plays when the mood is on. She claims practicing dulls inspiration.”
There was a slight titter of amusement, but one woman whom Judy had frequently seen at the house said earnestly, “But what will she do there, then?”
“Oh, I’m not worried about Judy,” her mother said lightly. “She’s very resourceful, very intelligent.”
The girl felt a warm glow of satisfaction.
“She reads everything,” her mother went on. “My father considers her his special vessel for all his accumulated wisdom. Like him, she loves to sketch, preferably in oils. Now the canvases are left to molder in Mother’s attic—fortunately not here. I guess it’s anything but music!” Minna smiled at her questioner, “but Aspen ought to change all that.”
Judy left her listening post trying to stem a feeling of rebellion at her mother’s words. Mechanically she began to straighten up the room and noticed the matching scarf of the new party dress which she had pressured her mother into buying for her. “Very well, for concerts then,” her mother had said as she finally succumbed. Judy hoped that both she and the dress were destined for more exciting occasions than mere concerts! The thought of the dress cheered her. She wished it weren’t already packed in the trunk, so that she could try it on again. The scarf would do. She draped it around her shoulders to suggest the dress and rubbed the dull surface of her mirror.
“A real treasure from Colonial days,” her grandmother had said when she gave it to her. Well, maybe so; the frame was certainly beautiful, but the smoky surface didn’t help her visualize how dazzling she would look, the steel blue bringing out the deep blue of her eyes, the tight bodice and the billowy skirt, making her small waist look smaller still.
She turned her head to one side. Hmmm. The nose was passable. The eyes, well, she knew they were her best feature. But why hadn’t she Mother’s creamy, pale skin instead of this healthy, dusky glow! She touched the thick brown hair held firmly by a rubber band. A pony tail was all right but some day her mother would weaken and she would get that permanent. A long, soft pageboy would hide these bony shoulders.
She folded the scarf and laid it on her day bed. Then she wedged herself into the small Boston rocker, the first of her antique possessions. She rocked gently, repeating the question her mother had not answered. “What would she do in Aspen?” She wasn’t so sure about the blessedness of belonging to a family so entirely dedicated to music. Her growing misgivings had been heightened by her recent visit with her grandparents. Again she thought of what her grandmother had said. “Your father and mother will be busy all day with rehearsals, teaching, concerts, parties night and day. Why not spend the summer with us as you’ve done for years? You love the sea, racing the dog on the beach. I need you in the garden and your cousins will be back again for a visit. The youngsters on the block want you to teach them to swim—fifty cents a lesson.”
Why, then, Judy wondered, had she given up so quickly a summer where she had been so happy in the past? Of course going to Aspen meant a trip to the West, to Colorado, the Rockies. The West was romantic. And her schoolmates were doing exciting things for the summer. One was going to a ranch in Wyoming. Her best friend was going to a work camp in Vermont. But these things cost money and Judy knew there was none to spare.