Roderick and Molly

Roderick Smith is a fine young man who lives with his Mom and Dad in a Queen Anne style Victorian home -- with turrets! -- on Elm Street, near the corner of Fourteenth, in Beauneville. Born seventeen years ago this coming first of July, Roderick is friendly and courteous to all, dresses neatly, does his schoolwork promptly, likes to read Thucydides in the original and wants to be a historian or a hedge-fund manager when he grows up.

You ask: a hedge-fund manager? Roderick's father who, like his grandfather, is also named Roderick, is an investment advisor who manages money for the local widows and orphans. Mr. Smith's library has many books about investing, which Roderick began to read when just a wee lad. Thus, while other young men his age dream of launching rockets, building a social-media networking tool or getting into Molly Bloom's pants, Roderick dreams of Black-Scholes pricing models, Modern Portfolio Theory and Monte Carlo Analysis.

Roderick also thinks often of Molly Bloom, although unlike the other young men in town he doesn't have to imagine her sans clothing. Actually, this is not true, strictly speaking; Molly has a propensity to lose her clothing at a moment's notice -- enrollment in Mr. Botticelli's art class tripled last year when she signed up for live modeling. Molly relationship with clothing is tenuous at best, which is a blessing for all, since she is simply gorgeous -- svelte, small-breasted, and completely blonde, if you know what I mean.

Roderick and Molly are inseparable, and have been so ever since Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Bloom met at Mrs. Witherspoon's "Nursing Your Baby" seminar at the Beaune Estate. As babies, they nursed together; as toddlers, they toddled together; as children, they played together. As each approaches seventeen, they hardly think about spending time together; they are attracted like magnets.

To understand Molly you must watch her long fingers as she sits with Roderick before school. She seems to be listening, but her fingers silently manipulate an imaginary keyboard through the thirty-second of Beethoven's Diabelli variations -- the one with the fugue -- as the piano is her one true passion. There is a huge Bosendorfer in the Bloom's parlor, the kind with the extra keys at the low end, and here Molly spends countless hours working on scales, arpeggios, etudes, technical exercises and the works of Beethoven (recently supplemented by works of Schubert).

Molly's propensity to roll out of bed in the morning and head straight for the piano, together with her lack of engagement with personal hygiene, means that she often carries a distinct aroma. Though squeaky-clean himself, Roderick is not bothered by this. He also knows that she is disinclined to shave, but the hair on her legs is so fine and blonde that it is unnoticeable except on close inspection.

Are Roderick and Molly a couple? Everyone else in town thinks so, thanks to the reporting of Amanda Dennis, aspiring reporter and gossip extraordinaire. If you read Amanda's blog, Cries and Whispers, you are in the know about all sorts of real and imagined affairs of Beauneville youth. But though they have taken a solemn pledge to be one another's "first", Roderick and Molly have not yet consummated this pledge, and not for lack of opportunity, since they often sleep together. There is no reason for this restraint, except that they have not yet felt the necessary inspiration.

Soon, they figure. But not just yet.

Wisteria, and a Cupcake

Each year, Beauneville denizens celibrate the Wisteria Sinensis, a great flowering vine whose cascading pendulous racemes burst to bloom in late May. There is an open house at the Beaune estate, whose lawn arbors burst with color. The French doors of the Ballroom are open, and celebrants mingle on the lawn.

Concurrent with the Wisteria Festival, Beauneville celebrates the annual Concours du Cupcake, for which the patissieres and cupcake fashioners strive to outdo one another. In the Ballroom, there are long tables, where regiments of cupcakes stand at attention in neat ranks, waiting for inspection.

This year, Mr. Smiley is the Grand Marshal of the Concours; he strides purposefully past the cupcakes on display, taking great care to show neither approval nor disapproval of any proffered cupcake. Mr. Smiley read somewhere that an architect in Vienna committed suicide after the Emperor Franz Joseph commented that a building "seemed a bit low". Mr. Smiley wouldn't want that sort of thing on his conscience.

The waiting crowd parts as Emily Peacock arrives. Emily is the eldest daughter of the Mrs. Peacock who lives next door to Mary Bloom; she lives on the other side of town, on Larch Street. Mary is well known as a leading practitioner of the fine art of the cupcake; for five years running she has won the Gold Pastry Brush.

Emily carries a silver platter with a domed cover. She gently places the platter at her designated spot near the head of one of the tables and, with a flourish, removes the dome, revealing this year's cupcake creation: a tiny replica of Schloss Neuschwanstein with towers, ornamental turrets, gables and pinnacles sculpted in butter cream frosting.

Her assistant distributes an information sheet, which reads:

For the 2011 Concours du Cupcake, Miss Emily Peacock has created a unique work she calls Romantic Castle. Fashioned from a petit gateau du chocolat and handmade butter cream frosting (made with butter freshly prepared from milk provided by Miss Peacock's Guernsey cow), this creation is an exact scale replica of King Ludwig's romantic castle. To ensure an accurate reproduction, Miss Peacock has consulted with castle curators in Hohenschangau. She estimates her total effort on this project to be about one thousand hours.

The gathered crowd is rapt; a Gold Pastry Brush for Emily is assured.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, proceedings are brought to order. Mr. Smiley sits at the head table with Clothilde, while little Alexander sleeps nearby in his bubble-pram. Roderick and his parents sit with the Blooms and Natasha, who simultaneously nurses Felix and Fanny -- a task which requires delicate balancing of the little ones, but which is simplified by Natasha's overall lack of modesty.

With considerable pomp, Emily Peacock's winning cupcake is brought forth and placed before Mr. Smiley who, as Grand Marshal of the Concours, is invited to eat. The room is silent, and all are rapt as Mr. Smiley raises the winning cupcake to his lips, bites off a turret, and chews thoughtfully.

Clothilde leans toward Mr. Smiley and, whispering, inquires: "How is it?"

Mr. Smiley gazes into the distance and, continuing to chew, murmurs: "It's nice."