Lady Muniche’s Gathering
Eventually Lady Muniche and Ina brought out bowls of hearty goulash with seeded rye breadsticks for dipping. I loaded up on napkins when they got passed around, and I accepted a bottle of Coke from Marga, who had taken it upon herself to pass out drinks. One corner of my mouth cringed momentarily when I realized that the Coke had not yet been refrigerated, but I opened it and took a swig anyway. That was one unfortunate habit I had picked up from my years in the U.S.: a preference for cold drinks, especially in the summer. But it was autumn now, and I was a guest in someone’s home, so I would have to remain silently wistful of my fridge.
My cousins had plopped themselves on either side of me, having dragged the yellow beanbag over and mashed it up against its com
