Evelyn 8

Something unusual in Mum's tone causes me to pay attention to her phone conversation; usually I don't bother.
She hangs up, stares out the window a long minute, then in a voice not her own, from a million miles away, "it just happens one of the military attaches at the Isaeli Embassy in Ottawa is on a cross-country tour. It just happens she's spending several days at the naval base in Esquimalt. It just happens that tomorrow evening she's dropping in to visit."
This duly mystifies me. Of all the Jews she could choose to visit in Victoria, surely we'd rate dead last on anyone's list of priorities.
"A Col no less, and it just happens she wants to see me and you."
My level of mystification elevates a notch.
"So, time's a wasting, let's clean this sty."
Jawohl Fuhrer I think acidly, feeling I have already exhausted today's supply of patience on Brent.
"And for sure, tomorrow evening you wear the green floral dress."
If I were to ice her right now, surely any jury in the land would view it a justifiable homicide.
The taxi drops her off. Mum ushers her in, "say hello to the nice lady Evelyn, then run off and study."
Col smiles ingratiatingly, "perhaps Ms Landau, our phone conversation lacked in sufficient clarity. Your role is simply to be present, to satisfy yourself that I exert no undue influence. My conversation is with Evelyn."
My level of mystification goes out into orbit.