Sunday morning I had the car I’d hired through Mother’s service wait outside Donald’s building while I got out to ring the bell to his apartment. But he and Ruth were waiting inside the foyer, all ready to go.
"Oh, Spencer!" Ruth’s eyes were wide with excitement. "A car, all for us! I’m positively whelmed."
I decided to accept "whelmed" as a less extreme version of "overwhelmed."
Manhattan’s streets are significantly less crowded on Sunday mornings than at any other time during the week, and our ride north was smooth and uneventful. The spring equinox meant that the morning sun was brilliant, showing off the city at its best.
I told the driver what time to return as gentleman Donald helped Ruth out of the car. She had clearly decided to get into the spirit of luxury, walking in a state
