Unlike last Saturday, Jason showed up for his cooking lesson today, and so did his mom and dad, as well as his girlfriend Paisley. They were on time, too, arriving promptly at ten o’clock, as I had requested in an e-mail to Rob Roy that I sent on Thursday. Usually, Jason and I start at eleven, but this time, the main dish was blanquette de veau, and that takes about two hours to prepare.
Katje was still sporting the remains of what must have been quite a shiner, and as we unpacked the groceries I had asked her little family to bring, I couldn’t resist mentioning it. “Is that what the Clinton lady gave you last week?”
“Yeah,” Katje smiled, speaking a bit proudly, like a kid being cross-examined about a schoolyard scuffle, “and she got a good pop in the mouth from me; bled like a stuck pig.”
Mighty strong words for a vegan, I thought to myself, before asking, “What did you tell the folks at work on Monday?”
“Well,” she averred, “I certainly didn’t want to tell them that I’d gotten in a fist fight with a Clinton supporter at a bar after the rallies broke up outside the DNC meeting. So,” she said, grinning at me with a mischievous wink, “I told them Rob Roy beat me up.”
“What!”
“No,” not really, she giggled, obviously delighted to have taken me in. “What I actually did was tell them that I ran into a door.”
“Right,” I replied ruefully. “I’m sure nobody got the idea Rob’s a wife beater after you told them that.”
Jason and Paisley broke out laughing, pulling celery, garlic, onions, shallots, carrots, parsnips and leeks out of the family’s ecologically-correct canvas shopping bags, stacking them neatly on the counter, but Rob was in the den, glued to the HDTV again. This time, he was watching coverage of the Big Question, which was, of course, whether, after suspending her presidential campaign, Hillary Clinton would tell America that she was running for Vice-President with Barack Obama.
At about ten-fifteen this morning, one thing was abundantly clear – whatever Hillary was going to say, she was going to take her sweet time about doing it. After I made Katje and Paisley the yerba mate they had requested (using a French coffee press, by the way – yerba mate lovers take note!), I set Jason to work on the veal and took the opportunity to stroll into the den and check out Rob.
“Jesus [expletive] Christ, Tom,” Rob trenchantly observed, “they won’t even say when Clinton’s going to speak!”
“The scuttlebutt,” I informed him, “is that she goes on around noon.”
“Oh, great,” Rob fumed, “so there’s going to be nearly two hours of these [expletive] suckers tap-dancing like Sammy Davis Junior on Bolivian flake! Look at this – all they’re doing is talking about what other people have said, then they bring on some talking head to say something else, and then they talk about that!”
“Reporting on reporting on commentary is the new journalism,” I observed. “It addresses a very real problem.”
“What problem?” Rob took a pull off his quad cappuccino with chocolate, that I had surreptitiously caught him spiking with Grand Marnier – Rob only drinks like a fish when he knows Katje can’t catch him at it.
“The problem that there isn’t enough news which fulfills the producer’s requirements for viewer interest, the reporter’s requirements for content and the director’s requirements for action,” I explained. “So the anchors fill up the time with interviews, commentary, interviews about interviews, interviews on commentary, comments on interviews, comments on commentary, and, of course, reports on reporting.” Despite my analysis, however, nothing could pull Rob away from watching the coverage of the coverage of Hillary’s upcoming speech.
When Katje attends Jason’s cooking lessons, it is, of course, necessary to prepare a parallel vegan menu. Jason and I accomplished that by substituting hard tofu for the veal and cooking it (for about half the usual time) using vegetable stock. Hard tofu, by the way, is a great meat substitute for a lot of recipes – Katje became the envy of her vegan ladies’ cooking circle with my recipe for vegan mock crab cakes. That one even passed the blindfold test (with Katje’s two resident food experts, Rob and Jason) competing head-to-head with cakes made from genuine Chesapeake blue crab backfin meat.
And so it was, Jason and I cooked, Paisley and Katje sipped yerba mate, and Rob finished off three fortified coffees until, with all the inevitability of a sticky, gooey pa-hoi-hoi lava flow consuming verdant rain forest in a leisurely promenade of death and destruction, at long last, Hillary Clinton spoke. As luck would have it, she arrived around half past twelve – thirty minutes late and right in the middle of our entrée. Knowing that if I didn’t act quickly, four out of five of us would be chowing down on gourmet food in front of a television, I excused myself briefly in order to switch the TV audio channel to the stereo speakers in the dining room.
“Thank you, so much,” we heard Hillary proclaim, “Thank you all. Well, this isn’t exactly the party I’d planned, but I sure like the company.
“I want to start today by saying how grateful I am to all of you – to everyone who poured your hearts and your hopes into this campaign, who drove for miles and lined the streets waving homemade signs, who scrimped and saved to raise money, who knocked on doors and made calls, who talked and sometimes argued with your friends and neighbors…”
“And sometimes punched your neighbors in the face,” Katje japed.
“… who e-mailed and contributed online, who invested so much in our common enterprise, to the moms and dads who came to our events, who lifted their little girls and little boys on their shoulders and whispered in their ears, ‘See, you can be anything you want to be.’”
“As long as you’re married to somebody who happens to be President of the United States,” Rob snarled.
“To the young people like 13 year-old Ann Riddle,” Hillary continued, “from Mayfield, Ohio, who had been saving for two years to go to Disney World, and decided to use her savings instead to travel to Pennsylvania with her mom and volunteer there as well…”
“Like they say,” Paisley wisecracked, “there’s a sucker born every minute.”
“Oh, I donno,” Jason speculated, “maybe the kid was expecting a political appointment after the general election. Under Secretary of Commerce for Ice Cream and Candy, maybe.”
“… To the veterans and the childhood friends,” Hillary droned along, “to New Yorkers and Arkansans who traveled across the country, telling anyone who would listen why you supported me.
“To all those women in their 80’s and their 90’s born before women could vote, who cast their votes for our campaign. I’ve told you before about Florence Steen of South Dakota, who was 88 years old, and insisted that her daughter bring an absentee ballot to her hospice bedside. Her daughter and a friend put an American flag behind her bed and helped her fill out the ballot. She passed away soon after, and under state law, her ballot didn’t count. But her daughter later told a reporter, ‘My Dad’s an ornery old cowboy, and he didn’t like it when he heard Mom’s vote wouldn’t be counted. I don’t think he had voted in 20 years. But he voted in place of my mom.’”
“[Expletive]!” Rob exclaimed. “This has got to be the biggest pile of bull [expletive] she’s ever dumped!”
“To all those who voted for me,” Hillary intoned, “and to whom I pledged my utmost, my commitment to you and to the progress we seek is unyielding. You have inspired and touched me with the stories of the joys and sorrows that make up the fabric of our lives and you have humbled me with your commitment to our country.”
“The platitudes are flying so thick and fast,” Paisley complained, “you can hardly hear the clichés.”
“Eighteen million of you from all walks of life,” Hillary orated grandly, “women and men, young and old, Latino and Asian, African-American and Caucasian, rich, poor and middle class, gay and straight…”
“Listen to her go,” Rob commented. “That’s sure some laundry list.”
“Yeah,” Katje agreed, “she’s definitely on a roll. But why did she leave out Wiccans and Extraterrestrials for Clinton?”
“… you have stood strong with me. And I will continue,” Hillary continued, “to stand strong with you, every time, every place, and every way that I can. The dreams we share are worth fighting for.
“Remember – we fought for the single mom with a young daughter, juggling work and school, who told me, ‘I’m doing it all to better myself for her.’ We fought for the woman who grabbed my hand, and asked me, ‘What are you going to do to make sure I have health care?’ and began to cry, because even though she works three jobs, she can’t afford insurance.”
“Does that woman,” Katje wondered aloud, “by any chance live in the same neighborhood as Ronald Reagan’s imaginary welfare queen – you know, the one with seventeen Social Security numbers and four Cadillacs?”
“They’re from the same zip code, anyway, I bet,” Jason joshed.
“We fought for the young man in the Marine Corps T-shirt,” Hillary persisted, “who waited months for medical care and said, ‘Take care of my buddies over there and then, will you please help take care of me?’”
“That’s right, [expletive],” Katje shouted at the stereo speakers, “wrap yourself in the flag and tout the sacrifice of others!”
“We fought for all those who’ve lost jobs and health care,” Hillary insisted, “who can’t afford gas or groceries or college, who have felt invisible to their President these last seven years.”
“And I don’t suppose,” Paisley muttered, “bleeding the economy of two trillion dollars paying the bills for a war you voted for in the Senate had anything to do with all of that, did it?”
“I entered this race,” Hillary insisted, “because I have an old-fashioned conviction: that public service is about helping people solve their problems and live their dreams. I’ve had every opportunity and blessing in my own life – and I want the same for all Americans. Until that day comes, you will always find me on the front lines of democracy – fighting for the future.”
“The only ‘old fashioned convictions’ she cares about,” Rob acidly asserted, “are the ones she and her husband wiggled out of!”
“The way to continue our fight now,” Hillary pressed on, “to accomplish the goals for which we stand – is to take our energy, our passion, our strength; and do all we can to help elect Barack Obama the next President of the United States.”
“That’s the first thing she’s said worth listening to since she started running her mouth,” Jason opined.
“Today, as I suspend my campaign…”
My guests jubilantly interrupted our meal with spontaneous cheers and applause. Paisley gave Jason a high five.
“… I congratulate him on the victory he has won and the extraordinary race he has run. I endorse him, and throw my full support behind him. And I ask all of you to join me in working as hard for Barack Obama as you have for me.
“I have served in the Senate with him for four years. I have been in this campaign with him for 16 months. I have stood on the stage and gone toe-to-toe with him in 22 debates. I have had a front row seat to his candidacy, and I have seen his strength and determination, his grace and his grit. In his own life, Barack Obama has lived the American Dream. As a community organizer, in the state senate, as a United States Senator – he has dedicated himself to ensuring the dream is realized. And in this campaign, he has inspired so many to become involved in the democratic process and invested in our common future.”
“You think she’s serious?” Katje’s eyes darted around the table. “I mean, really, that’s got to be some kind of trick, doesn’t it?”
“It’s possible,” I suggested, “that she means what she’s saying – to the extent that any politician can mean what they say in a campaign speech, of course.”
“Now when I started this race,” Hillary confessed, “I intended to win back the White House, and make sure we have a President who puts our country back on the path to peace, prosperity, and progress. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do by ensuring that Barack Obama walks through the doors of the Oval Office on January 20, 2009.”
“You hear people booing the back row,” Rob asked, “or am I imagining things?”
“I understand,” Hillary assured us, “that we all know this has been a tough fight. The Democratic Party is a family, and it’s now time to restore the ties that bind us together and to come together around the ideals we share, the values we cherish, and the country we love.”
“What’s this,” Rob sneered, “no appeals to motherhood? No mention of apple pie or Old Glory?”
“I guess,” Katje sniped, “she considers those particular inanities to be a bit too Republican.”
“We may have started on separate journeys,” Hillary informed us, “but today, our paths have merged. And we are all heading toward the same destination, united and more ready than ever to win in November and to turn our country around because so much is at stake.
“We all want an economy that sustains the American Dream, the opportunity to work hard and have that work rewarded, to save for college, a home and retirement, to afford that gas and those groceries and still have a little left over at the end of the month; an economy that lifts all of our people and ensures that our prosperity is broadly distributed and shared.”
“Hey wait a [expletive] minute,” Jason protested, “she stole that from Obama!”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Paisley chimed in, “she lifted it from a speech he made last February!”
“We all want a health care system that is universal, high quality, and affordable so that parents no longer have to choose between care for themselves or their children or be stuck in dead end jobs simply to keep their insurance. This isn’t just an issue for me – it is a passion and a cause – and it is a fight I will continue until every single American is insured – no exceptions, no excuses.”
“Looks like she’s forgotten,” Rob expounded, “how badly she screwed the pooch on health care back during her husband’s first administration!”
“We all want an America defined by deep and meaningful equality,” Hillary declared, “from civil rights to labor rights, from women’s rights to gay rights, from ending discrimination to promoting unionization to providing help for the most important job there is: caring for our families.
“We all want to restore America’s standing in the world, to end the war in Iraq and once again lead by the power of our values, and to join with our allies to confront our shared challenges from poverty and genocide to terrorism and global warming.”
“This is utterly shameless,” Rob blurted out, slamming his wine glass down angrily, “that’s all Obama’s stuff again!”
“You know,” Hillary confided, “I’ve been involved in politics and public life in one way or another for four decades. During those forty years, our country has voted ten times for President. Democrats won only three of those times. And the man who won two of those elections is with us today.”
“Oh no,” Paisley wailed in dismay, “now she’s introducing Bill!”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Jason chimed in, “that’s just what Obama needs – Slick Willy campaigning for him.”
“Let’s just hope,” Katje offered, catty as could be, “that he doesn’t get Obama’s bid for the White House mired down in a tawdry sex scandal with some female young enough to be Chelsea’s kid sister!”
“We made tremendous progress,” Hillary asked us to believe, “during the 90’s under a Democratic President, with a flourishing economy…”
“Can you say ‘dot-bomb bubble?’” Rob demanded.
“… and our leadership for peace and security respected around the world…”
“Can you say ‘Bosnian airport snipers?’” Jason inquired.
“… Just think how much more progress we could have made over the past 40 years if we had a Democratic president. Think about the lost opportunities of these past seven years – on the environment and the economy, on health care and civil rights, on education, foreign policy and the Supreme Court. Imagine how far we could’ve come, how much we could’ve achieved if we had just had a Democrat in the White House.”
“Well, duh!” Paisley sniffed. “All hail Her Majesty, Queen Obvious!”
“We cannot let this moment slip away,” Hillary implored. “We have come too far and accomplished too much.
“Now the journey ahead will not be easy. Some will say we can’t do it. That it’s too hard. That we’re just not up to the task. But for as long as America has existed, it has been the American way to reject ‘can’t do’ claims, and to choose instead to stretch the boundaries of the possible through hard work, determination, and a pioneering spirit…”
“You forgot pluck, persistence, perseverance, commitment, patience, and endurance, Wonder Woman,” Jason snickered.
“… It is this belief, this optimism, that Senator Obama and I share, and that has inspired so many millions of our supporters to make their voices heard.
“So today, I am standing with Senator Obama to say: Yes we can!”
“That does it!” Rob shook his head in total frustration. “Do you believe that this is the woman who made a huge, unending stink, accusing Barack Obama of plagiarism?”
“When Democrats form a firing squad,” I reminded him, “they stand in a circle.”
“Together we will work,” Hillary proposed. “We’ll have to work hard to get universal health care. But on the day we live in an America where no child, no man, and no woman is without health insurance, we will live in a stronger America.”
“And pigs will fly,” Katje shouted.
“That’s why,” Hillary exhorted us, “we need to help elect Barack Obama our President.
“We’ll have to work hard to get back to fiscal responsibility and a strong middle class. But on the day we live in an America whose middle class is thriving and growing again, where all Americans, no matter where they live or where their ancestors came from, can earn a decent living, we will live in a stronger America…”
“And talking pigs will fly into [expletive] outer space!” Rob yelled.
“… and that is why we must elect Barack Obama our President.
“We’ll have to work hard to foster the innovation that makes us energy independent,” Hillary warned us, “and lift the threat of global warming from our children’s future. But on the day we live in an America fueled by renewable energy, we will live in a stronger America…”
“And telepathic pigs will fly through stargates to the Andromeda galaxy!” Jason jeered.
“… That’s why we have to help elect Barack Obama our President.
“We’ll have to work hard to bring our troops home from Iraq…”
“You sent them there in the first place, you hypocritical [expletive]!” Paisley reminded Senator Clinton.
“… and get them the support they’ve earned by their service. But on the day we live in an America that’s as loyal to our troops as they have been to us, we will live in a stronger America…”
“That’s it, Hillary,” Katje hollered, “hide behind other people’s valor and sacrifice! Again! Twice in the same [expletive] speech! Jesus! How transparently shameless can you get?”
“With rhetoric like that, the Clintons campaigning for Obama could very well be the kiss of death,” Paisley speculated.
“… and that is why we must help elect Barack Obama our President.
“This election is a turning point election and it is critical that we all understand what our choice really is. Will we go forward together or will we stall and slip backwards? Think how much progress we have already made. When we first started, people everywhere asked the same questions:
Could a woman really serve as Commander-in-Chief? Well, I think we answered that one.”
“Commander in Chief of the [expletive] Amazons, maybe,” Katje hissed.
“And could an African American really be our President?” Hillary asked us. “Senator Obama has answered that one.
Together Senator Obama and I achieved milestones essential to our progress as a nation, part of our perpetual duty to form a more perfect union.
“Now, on a personal note – when I was asked what it means to be a woman running for President, I always gave the same answer: that I was proud to be running as a woman but I was running because I thought I’d be the best President. But I am a woman, and like millions of women, I know there are still barriers and biases out there, often unconscious.
I want to build an America that respects and embraces the potential of every last one of us.”
“As long as they kick back big bucks to you and your husband on crooked real estate deals,” Rob railed.
“I ran as a daughter who benefited from opportunities my mother never dreamed of…”
“Like sucking Bill Clinton’s [expletive], for instance,” Jason pointed out.
“… I ran as a mother who worries about my daughter’s future and a mother who wants to lead all children to brighter tomorrows. To build that future I see, we must make sure that women and men alike understand the struggles of their grandmothers and mothers, and that women enjoy equal opportunities, equal pay, and equal respect…”
“As if! As if!” Katje rose from her seat, incensed. “As if that man-hating harpy’s fascist idea feminism had anything at all to do with the genuine issues of women’s rights!”
“… Let us resolve and work toward achieving some very simple propositions: There are no acceptable limits and there are no acceptable prejudices in the twenty-first century.
“You can be so proud that, from now on, it will be unremarkable for a woman to win primary state victories, unremarkable to have a woman in a close race to be our nominee, unremarkable to think that a woman can be the President of the United States.”
“As if anything you did, you opportunistic [expletive],” Paisley declared, “had anything at all to do with centuries of women’s struggles for their rights!”
“… And that is truly remarkable.
“To those who are disappointed that we couldn’t go all the way…”
“Like your husband, you [expletive] hole,” Rob growled, “who you went all the way with once, to make Chelsea; and I bet you made him deliver his [expletive] in a [expletive] Dixie cup, at that!”
“… especially the young people who put so much into this campaign – it would break my heart if, in falling short of my goal, I in any way discouraged any of you from pursuing yours.”
“A person would have to be an absolute retard,” Jason mused, “to be discouraged by the failures of anybody remotely resembling Hillary Clinton.”
“… Always aim high, work hard, and care deeply about what you believe in. When you stumble, keep faith. When you’re knocked down, get right back up. And never listen to anyone who says you can’t or shouldn’t go on.”
“Right,” Paisley snickered, “unless it’s Hillary Clinton, of course, suggesting that you wouldn’t be as competent as her in the White House.”
“As we gather here today in this historic magnificent building, the 50th woman to leave this Earth is orbiting overhead. If we can blast 50 women into space, we will someday launch a woman into the White House.”
“Yeah,” Katje remarked, “but, while we’re waiting for that, can we arrange to blast Hillary Clinton out of here, preferably on a trajectory to Mars?”
“Although we weren’t able to shatter that highest, hardest glass ceiling this time, thanks to you, it’s got about 18 million cracks in it. And the light is shining through like never before, filling us all with the hope and the sure knowledge that the path will be a little easier next time. That has always been the history of progress in America.
“Think of the suffragists who gathered at Seneca Falls in 1848 and those who kept fighting until women could cast their votes.”
“Women’s suffrage,” Paisley commented, “has about as much to do with Hillary Clinton’s brand of feminism as corn bread has to do with bootleg bourbon.”
“Think of the abolitionists who struggled and died to see the end of slavery.”
“Sure,” Rob laughed, “as if she and her husband would risk a hang nail for anything, much less their miserable lives.”
“Think of the civil rights heroes and foot-soldiers who marched, protested and risked their lives to bring about the end to segregation and Jim Crow.”
“You bet, suckers,” Katje jeered, “think of people with real moral convictions while you watch a sociopath like Hillary Clinton run her mouth. Maybe she can trick you into another false mental association. Why not? She and her husband are experts at that, after all, aren’t they?”
“Because of them, I grew up taking for granted that women could vote. Because of them, my daughter grew up taking for granted that children of all colors could go to school together. Because of them, Barack Obama and I could wage a hard fought campaign for the Democratic nomination. Because of them, and because of you, children today will grow up taking for granted that an African American or a woman can yes, become President of the United States.”
“Yeah, but not Al Sharpton, and not you!” Rob ejaculated as he poured himself another glass of wine.
“When that day arrives and a woman takes the oath of office as our President, we will all stand taller, proud of the values of our nation, proud that every little girl can dream and that her dreams can come true in America. And all of you will know that because of your passion and hard work you helped pave the way for that day.
“So I want to say to my supporters, when you hear people saying – or think to yourself – ‘if only’ or ‘what if,’…”
“If only you’d dry up and blow away!”
“What if you go [expletive] yourself up Dick Cheney’s stinking [expletive]?”
“… I say, ‘please don’t go there.’”
“That’s what the frigid [expletive] always told Bill!”
“… Every moment wasted looking back keeps us from moving forward.
“Life is too short, time is too precious, and the stakes are too high to dwell on what might have been.”
“You mean, like how Al Gore might be President today if your lying, philandering husband could have kept his [expletive] in his [expletive] pants, you Panglossian nitwit?”
“… We have to work together for what still can be. And that is why I will work my heart out to make sure that Senator Obama is our next President and I hope and pray that all of you will join me in that effort.
“To my supporters and colleagues in Congress, to the governors and mayors, elected officials who stood with me, in good times and in bad, thank you for your strength and leadership. To my friends in our labor unions who stood strong every step of the way – I thank you and pledge my support to you. To my friends, from every stage of my life – your love and ongoing commitments sustain me every single day. To my family – especially Bill and Chelsea and my mother…”
“Listening to that [expletive],” Jason quipped, “you’d think every single person in the United States of America worked on her campaign.”
“… you mean the world to me and I thank you for all you have done. And to my extraordinary staff, volunteers and supporters, thank you for working those long, hard hours. Thank you for dropping everything – leaving work or school – traveling to places you’d never been, sometimes for months on end. And thanks to your families as well because your sacrifice was theirs too.
“All of you were there for me every step of the way. Being human, we are imperfect. That’s why we need each other. To catch each other when we falter. To encourage each other when we lose heart…”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Rob complained, “it sounds like she’s some bimbo accepting a god-damned Oscar, but there’s no [expletive] orchestra to play her off the stage!”
“… Some may lead; others may follow; but none of us can go it alone.”
“Hey,” Jason informed our phantom guest, “I think we can do just fine without you, [expletive]!”
“… The changes we’re working for are changes that we can only accomplish together. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are rights that belong to each of us as individuals. But our lives, our freedom, our happiness, are best enjoyed, best protected, and best advanced when we do work together.”
“Work like brainwashed zombies for your hidden agendas, you mean,” Paisley objected.
“That is what we will do now as we join forces with Senator Obama and his campaign. We will make history together as we write the next chapter in America’s story. We will stand united for the values we hold dear, for the vision of progress we share, and for the country we love. There is nothing more American than that.”
“Unless you count politicians who spout trite banalities until any reasonably intelligent person is ready to puke!” Katje lamented.
“And looking out at you today, I have never felt so blessed. The challenges that I have faced in this campaign are nothing compared to those that millions of Americans face every day in their own lives. So today, I’m going to count my blessings and keep on going. I’m going to keep doing what I was doing long before the cameras ever showed up and what I’ll be doing long after they’re gone…”
“Blindly chasing after power like a junkie looking for an angry fix,” Rob blurted ruefully.
“… working to give every American the same opportunities I had, and working to ensure that every child has the chance to grow up and achieve his or her God-given potential.
I will do it with a heart filled with gratitude, with a deep and abiding love for our country, and with nothing but optimism and confidence for the days ahead.”
“Oh yeah, you better be optimistic,” Jason taunted. “Because you’re going to have to [expletive] a lot of [expletive] to pay off the seven million [expletive] dollars in debt you ran up campaigning for President, you [expletive] [expletive] [expletive]!”
“… This is now our time to do all that we can to make sure that in this election we add another Democratic president to that very small list of the last 40 years and that we take back our country and once again move with progress and commitment to the future.
“Thank you all and God bless you and God bless America.”
When Hillary finally shouted that final “God bless America” to her throng of true believers, the sense of relief at my dining room table was palpable.
“Well,” Paisley sighed. “It’s over, and she didn’t say she’s joining the Democratic ticket as the vice-presidential candidate.”
“But,” I cautioned, “she didn’t say she wouldn’t either.”
All four of my guests blanched white at the realization.
“That’s right, Tom,” Rob murmured, “she never did.”
“Oh, well,” I told them, by way of consolation, “Jason’s made some dynamite dark chocolate raspberry mousse for dessert.”