“But if you never mailed them, why did you keep writing? For heaven’s sake, why did you keep paying to have them printed?”
“Like I said, the first few years, I thought I was supposed to write a Christmas letter. It was a wife’s duty. Then, after a time, I realized that I was simply doing it for myself. It felt good to put my thoughts down on paper. And many years, I actually enjoyed doing it. I liked reliving our life.” She paused. “Other years, it was just—necessary.”
“And the copies?”
“I know. Ridiculous. But somehow, they made the letters feel less self-indulgent. Something I was supposed to do.” She looked at Cerise. “I’m very task-oriented. Ask your father.”
Ed, who had been listening quietly, nodded.
“Did you know, Dad?”
“Oh, eventually,” he said. “I didn’t see much harm. If she enjoyed it.” He looked at Violet and smiled. “After forty years of marriage, a closet full of boxes seems pretty insignificant.”
Violet smiled back at him and Cerise watched as they enjoyed a private moment. She’d always been reasonably sure she grew up with decent parents. Overbearing, certainly out-of-date with the times and probably a little bit nutty, yes. But the unfolding of the last few days made her certain of this: she loved them fiercely.
“Thank you,” she said, first to her mother, then to her parents, both. “Thank you for—everything.”
Adam squawked, hungry and ready for bed. There were no Hallmark card moments when a baby ran the schedule, no time to belabor her thanks. So she took her squirming son from her mother’s arms and began to pack up.
Then she remembered.
“Hey, Mom, you said there were two things you had to apologize for.” She snapped Adam into his carrier. “What’s the second?”
Violet huffed as if she wished she’d never mentioned it. She looked at Ed, who nodded his Go ahead.
“Your father and I have compared notes. And we believe I may have been the one to break Pastor Norblad’s nose.”
“You?” This was more than delicious. “You punched Pastor Norblad?”
“Of course not.” She sounded disgusted at that mere suggestion. “Something brushed my hip and I thought it was Elliott. Getting hands-y.” She wiggled her fingers. “So I swatted him with my hymnal.”
“Only—” Cerise laughed, putting the pieces together “—you missed and hit the pastor.”
Violet scowled. “Well, I say I did him a favor,” she said. “In fact, his wife ought to thank me for finally giving him an excuse to fix it.”
Cincinnati Independent Times
June 13, 2018
Court Says History Has Rights, Too
A Federal District judge ruled in favor of local preservation groups yesterday, declaring that Hesse House, the historic Mount Auburn Romanesque Revival landmark, cannot be sold for development.
“The ruling could not be more clear,” said Preserve Cincinnati’s Director, Ellsbeth Mariner. “The land on which Hesse House sits is federally protected through the National Register of Historic Places. Developers, or other people just looking to make a buck, can no longer pretend that their destruction of these treasures doesn’t have a lasting impact on our city.”
The home’s current owners, Elliott and Amanda Hesse, had been on track to sell the house to boutique hotel developer the Frontenac Group, but yesterday’s ruling permanently derailed the agreement, according to a company spokesperson.
The court’s decision ultimately leaves the Hesse family fuming and scrambling for options on how to deal with the historic liability.
“These so-called preservation groups owe me money,” said Elliott Hesse from his second home in Naples, Florida. “And they better get their act together soon because I’m not putting one more cent into that place. I’d certainly hate for something to happen to it in the meantime.”
46
Violet
SO, HERE THEY were again—Violet and Ed, and Cerise and Barb with the baby, and Eldris and Richard and Kyle—all seated around the dining room table and all wondering what on earth was going to happen next.
Violet had never been so horrified as the last time they’d gathered guests around this table. She’d even considered selling the entire set—or burning it, but she couldn’t do that to a Stickley—for fear that it would forever remind her of that night. Elliott’s groping hands, and his wife, slurring her words like a snake in the grass. These were deeply troubled people, no doubt, and had they been anyone other than her grandson’s relations, she would have tossed them out the door and turned the lock.
But that was not an option. No, it was now indisputably clear that Elliott’s and Amanda’s failed moral characters made her and Ed infinitely more important as grandparents. The Baumgartners would have to pick up the slack. And they would do it—for Adam, obviously, but also for Barb. She was a mother now, yes, but with what guidance? Certainly she wouldn’t be looking to Amanda as a role model. Lord, help us! No, it would be Violet’s job to guide these young mothers—Cerise and Barb, both. She owed it to her family.
Even Ed hadn’t been the same since the baptism. He’d always been efficient, but for the last few days he’d displayed the energy of an old Hollywood business tycoon, the sort of character you’d see on Turner Classic Movies, making phone calls and saying ridiculous things like, “Make it happen!” She was happy to see him busy again, but for heaven’s sake, did he have to be so boisterous about it?
He hadn’t even told her he’d invited guests this evening until mere hours before the doorbell rang.
“And what on earth am I supposed to feed these people, Edward?” As if she could produce dinner from five loaves and two fishes.
“I’ve taken care of it. Two salads and a lasagna from Vescio’s, which I’ll pick up at five o’clock.”
For goodness’ sake. “Never in my life have I served take-out food to guests.” Vescio’s was solid, yes, but honestly.
“You don’t, but I do,” answered Ed. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to fuss.”
He assured her there was nothing to do. He would set the table. Eldris was bringing dessert. Kyle was bringing the wine. Violet had no choice but to acquiesce. Only, not before making him agree to transfer the contents of each and every take-out container to her Wedgwood serving dishes.
The guests arrived promptly at six. Even the Endreses.
“I’ve invited you all for a meal,” Ed began, holding his wineglass aloft, “because I believe there’s nothing better for smoothing ruffled feathers than to break bread together.” He raised his glass. “A toast. To friendship. And family.”
The table echoed its reply.
Ed continued, “The Baumgartners and the Endreses have been friends for many years. Decades, really. And, thanks to little Adam here...” He paused and looked at Cerise as if waiting for a signal that he was approaching dangerous water. Her face betrayed nothing, but he appeared to change course, nevertheless. “Well, let’s just say it looks like we have reason to stay friends.”
He raised his glass again and the guests each took a sip of their own drinks in return.
Eldris shuffled in her seat and Violet knew she was just burning to ask.
“What role will Kyle be taking in Adam’s life?” Violet hadn’t waited for Eldris to work up her courage.
Cerise, Barb and Kyle exchanged knowing glances, and then said in near unison, “Godfather.”
“Yes, of course,” said Violet, scooping at the air with her hand as if digging for more. “But what does that mean?”
“It means,” said Cerise, “that he’s his godfather. As simple as that.” She turned to Barb and smiled. “Right, Momma?”
Barb grinned. “Right.” Then she leaned over and kissed Cerise on the lips. Right there at the table.
Of all things.
Oh, we
ll. Violet wouldn’t complain. That Barbara was made of nothing less than steel. It was very impressive.
“I don’t suppose I can call him—” started Eldris.
“No.” Violet stopped her short. “You heard the kids. Kyle is the godfather. Nothing more.” Adam was Violet’s grandson. He was not a piece of coffee cake they could divide and share at the church fellowship hour.
Then she remembered, softening. Kyle wouldn’t be giving Eldris and Richard any actual grandchildren anytime soon.
“I am sorry, Kyle,” Violet said, turning to him. “I heard about the wedding.”
Kyle shrugged in his typical Kyle-like manner. “Yeah. Well. Turns out I’m more relieved than I expected.” Then he filled his mouth with lasagna as if giving himself an excuse to say no more.
There was a pause in the conversation and Violet strained to keep herself from blowing up with exasperation. Why couldn’t the Endreses ever just say what they meant?
Finally, Richard picked up where his son had left off. “It was Rhonda.”
The guests murmured their assent. Violet looked around the table, quickly realizing that she was the only person who didn’t understand. “Rhonda, what?”
“Rhonda rousing all the suspicion with the feds. Stupid girl. Had her cronies faking all those ‘Watchers’ hijinks only to find out they were trespassing on federal property.” He shoved a piece of bread into his mouth and chewed it only halfway gone before speaking again. “Did you know they were actually investigating Kyle for domestic terrorism?”
“What on earth?”
Now Richard’s mouth was full of lasagna, so Cerise picked up the story. “Apparently, Rhonda planned The Watchers group as a way to advance her career. Hired some guys, tried to ignite a social media frenzy. Her plan was to be the reporter who scooped the whole thing. Big exposé. Make a name for herself and ditch the weather-girl life for a network news career.”
“Except she nearly landed our son in prison!” Eldris sputtered and bobbled, her face red with anger. “I just knew that anyone with the nerve to put a twelve-hundred-dollar ice-cream maker on her bridal registry wasn’t any good for my son. Selfish. That’s what I’d call her.”
Violet knew exactly which ice-cream maker Eldris was referring to. The Dream from Sur la Table—and she had to agree. She’d found the price tag outrageous. Although it was supposed to make exceptionally delicious sorbet.
“But how did they find her?” Violet looked from guest to guest, not knowing who to turn to. The entire table seemed to be enjoying their food immensely.
“You think the feds figured this out?” Richard again. “Ha! No way. I’m the one who nailed her. I’d suspected for months, only—Well, I didn’t want to mess things up for Kyle.”
Eldris gasped, as shocked as Violet had ever heard her. She looked about ready to bobble her head right off her shoulders. “You knew? Why on earth didn’t you say something? Our poor son was nearly incarcerated.” Eldris suddenly went so pale that Violet wondered if the poor woman was going to slide off her chair—again.
“Well, obviously I never thought they were going to nail Kyle for this, Eldris!”
He tossed the piece of bread he’d been fingering to his plate. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t know for sure how Rhonda made it all go down. But I damn well suspected. On account of one day, she emailed to ask if anyone would be home because she needed to pick up a few boxes for Kyle. I never thought to ask the poor kid about it until one day he’s missing almost exactly a trunkful of donations and the feds are knocking on our door.”
“What?” Eldris again. This was most definitely not good for the poor woman’s blood pressure. She dropped her head into her hand, looking ready to either scream or sob.
Violet waited briefly, then gently nudged Eldris’s wineglass out of the way for fear she’d strike out and break one of her Waterford stems.
Kyle rubbed a hand across his mother’s back. “Mom, it’s okay. Dad was stuck. You see? If he ratted out Rhonda, he knew it would end our relationship. Plus, the lawyer never thought the investigation would go as far as it did. As soon as Dad knew we’d broken up, he went straight to the FBI.”
Violet rolled her eyes and sighed. She was relieved about Kyle, of course. Not only could Eldris quit sputtering to her about how to pay for a wedding on Richard’s unemployment check, but sweet Adam was no longer at risk of having to visit his godfather in prison.
Still, she couldn’t believe that yet another dinner party was unraveling before her eyes. At least this time she didn’t have anything at stake. Except for her crystal. She scanned the table to ensure no other pieces were in danger.
Richard again. “Well, to be clear, I didn’t exactly head straight to the feds.”
“What?” Now Kyle and his mother both looked like they wanted to attack him.
“I still thought there was a chance it might blow over. Then I talked to Ed.” He glanced over. “And it just became clear how things can so easily get blown out of proportion.”
Violet looked at Ed. How on earth had he become involved in this mess? And he must have read her mind because he didn’t hesitate before offering an explanation.
“I thought Richard was picking up odd jobs as a handyman, remember?”
She nodded slowly, waiting for more.
“Well, it turns out I was wrong. He did help me fix the sink, though. I was buying the wrong size washer. All that mess and it came down to just a tiny bit of rubber—”
“Edward! Get to the point.” Violet knew she wasn’t going to like what was coming any more than she liked the feel of the ice pick digging its way into her skull.
“I’ve agreed to become the manager for Hair Supply.” He straightened, as if daring her to argue.
“What on earth—” Violet wondered if she could even spit the words from her mouth “—is Hair Supply?”
“It’s my band,” said Richard, answering for him. “With some buddies. We’re an Air Supply cover band and we’re doing great. Getting very popular. May even head over to the Philippines in a few months if the money’s right.”
Eldris began making tiny squeaking sounds, but kept her face buried in her hands.
“Mom’s not so sure about it all yet,” explained Kyle. “But the good news is that Dad’s also agreed to start taking on a leadership role with EyeShine. Frees me up to keep building my practice while we build the organization at the same time. I’m psyched.”
He shot a grin at his dad, who shot one right back.
Well, weren’t they just peas in a pod?
“Does this mean you’re leaving advertising?” Violet couldn’t help but feel a tiny twist in her gut, knowing that neither seedy roadside bars nor charity work would even come close to covering the salary Eldris had grown accustomed to. Not that it was a terribly impressive salary. Eldris hadn’t changed her kitchen wallpaper in years.
“In a way,” said Richard. “Except that I’ll be bringing all my advertising expertise along with me to EyeShine. It’ll be a great asset for building the brand.”
“And the money...” Violet was doing her best to be discreet.
“Yeah, well, you could say I’ve been a bit of a tightwad over the years. We’re fine to retire, if we’re careful. Plus, we’ll have a bit of income to cover the gap.”
“He’s been more than a tightwad,” said Ed, interjecting. “I brought him over to Harry Saels’s office and Harry said he’d never seen accounts so neat and tidy at Richard’s. He called it an ‘open-and-shut case of financial constipation,’ but I think the metaphor was just for my benefit.”
Eldris punctuated Ed’s joke for him, stifling an agonized moan. “I’m still getting new vinyl in the entryway, Richard,” she squeaked. “Maybe even tile. You just wait!”
Violet couldn’t believe it. All these years her dear friend had pinched and scraped, only to find out that life could have
eased up years ago. She felt a renewed rush of thanks for her dear Ed. Not that he, of all people, was going to get away with this band manager nonsense without a thorough talking-to, of course. Nor would she at any point or under any circumstance allow her Ed to wear one of Richard’s ridiculous wigs. Or a vest. Equally ridiculous.
There was, she had to admit, though, a certain intrigue to the idea of international travel. She’d never been particularly drawn to the Philippines, but she could be persuaded of Japan. Possibly. And definitely Norway. Yes, and Germany. They could make a global tour of it. Maybe even take Adam. Expose him to the cultures of the world. Immerse him in Mandarin and French and Swahili. Where was it that they spoke Tamil?
She made a mental note: f/u foreign languages.
That reminded her. She made a second mental note: Adam on waiting list for Academy of the International Baccalaureate?
Oh, and a third: Infant vaccination protocol.
For heaven’s sake. She was already behind.
Epilogue
Violet
SHE WOULD HAVE preferred they’d stayed overnight.
“They only live ten minutes away, Violet.” Ed sat next to her on the couch, each of them nursing a warm cup of coffee. “It won’t be long.”
“I know.” She sighed. There was a melancholy in her voice this morning. Even she could hear it. “It’s just that this is the most magical part of the morning.”
And it was. The white lights of the tree danced in the early-morning dark, as the pink sky outside their windows announced: Christmas has come again.
“Well, I like to think they’re doing just what we are right now.” Ed leaned in and nudged her with his shoulder. “Enjoying the glorious quiet of Christmas morning together.”
Violet smiled at him. Dearest Ed. Head to toe in his red plaid holiday pajamas.
He nudged her again. Always a nudger, her husband. Never overly conspicuous with his affections but hardly withholding of them, either. “I love you, Violet.”
Evergreen Tidings from the Baumgartners Page 30