Saks & Violins

by Mary Daheim

  “Well,” said Judith, “your hands seem okay, and your face looks fine, except you’re a bit off-color.”

  “So’s that dopey movie,” Gertrude declared. “No wonder I passed out. In Gritty Gertie, I act like a tramp. That’s not me. The movie’s too suggestive.”

  The film that had been based on Gertrude’s life had undergone many script changes, and although it had ended up showing the trials and tribulations of a member of the so-called Greatest Generation, there was far more fiction than fact in the story line. When Gritty Gertie had been released in July, Gertrude had refused to see it in the theater. Judith, Joe, Renie, and Bill had gone instead. They were prepared for the changes, but still dismayed. Joe couldn’t understand why they hadn’t kept to the original concept of an ordinary twentieth-century woman surviving history’s tragedies and triumphs. Judith worried that her mother’s reputation had been tarnished. Bill, who was a knowledgeable movie buff, had critiqued the production in his usual no-frills manner by stating that “it was a piece of crap.” Renie had complained because she didn’t get extra butter on her popcorn.

  Finally, the producers had sent an early release of the DVD version over the weekend. Gertrude had watched it Sunday night and pitched a fit. In fact, she wouldn’t even see it through its lugubrious two-and-a-half-hour length.

  “That’s it!” she’d cried when the movie version of Gertie had started to undress in front of her gangster lover after a Charleston contest in the Roaring Twenties. “Nobody sees me in my underwear! Or less!”

  Recalling how distressed her mother had been over the film’s final cut, Judith tried to calm the old lady—and herself. “You’ve been upset,” she said to Gertrude as Sweetums crept into the living room through the open French doors. “You should see a doctor.”

  “Phooey,” Gertrude said. “I had a little spell, that’s all. I swooned. So what? When’s supper?”

  “It’s only three o’clock,” Judith replied as Sweetums prowled around the wheelchair, rubbing his big orange-and-white furry body against Gertrude’s legs.

  “Hunh.” Gertrude, whose color was returning to normal, looked disappointed. “I thought I was out for a lot longer than that.”

  “You should probably drink some juice and have a little snack,” Judith said as Phyliss Rackley entered the living room. “I’m going to make an appointment with the doctor.”

  “How’d you know?” Phyliss asked, her white sausage curls practically standing on end. “I’ve been feeling poorly all day.”

  Phyliss frequently felt “poorly.” “What is it today?” Judith asked in a weary voice.

  “My spleen,” Phyliss replied, watching Sweetums with a wary eye. “So that’s where that horrid cat is. He was trying to suck my breath.”

  “Nonsense,” Judith snapped. “That’s a myth. Cats don’t try to suck the breath out of humans.”

  Phyliss was eyeing Sweetums with distrust. “That’s no ordinary cat. That cat is Satan’s spawn.”

  It was an old employer-and-employee argument. Between Phyliss’s hypochondria and religious fanaticism, there were times when Judith wondered how she’d managed to put up with the cleaning woman all these years. Except, of course, that Phyliss was very good at her job.

  “Why,” Judith demanded, “do you think Sweetums was…trying to do what you said he was doing?”

  Gertrude shot Phyliss a sidelong glance. “Nut,” she muttered. “Didn’t I always say as much?”

  Phyliss looked chagrined. “It was my spleen,” she said, dancing a bit as Sweetums sniffed her orthopedic shoes. “There were only two guest rooms to prepare today, so I thought I’d lie down for just a minute. I felt unbalanced.”

  “You are,” Gertrude said.

  Phyliss glared at Gertrude; Judith glared at Phyliss.

  “Is that why you didn’t come downstairs when I called you?” Judith asked sharply. “You were taking a nap?”

  “I was resting my eyes,” Phyliss replied, still trying to sidestep the cat’s inquisitive nose. “Or trying to. That’s when that…” She glanced at Sweetums, who had finally sat next to her feet and was gazing up with as innocent an expression as his type of feline could manage…“That creature jumped up on the bed and began to go for my poor face!”

  “He was just curious,” Judith declared. “That’s the way cats are. You don’t,” she added meaningfully, “usually lie down on the job.”

  “True enough,” Phyliss mumbled. “But my spleen…”

  Judith waved a hand. “Never mind. I have things to do. So do you, Phyliss. Come on, Mother, let’s go into the kitchen.”

  But first, Judith remembered to ask Phyliss to retrieve the phone from under the piano. “We all have our health issues,” she reminded the cleaning woman in a more kindly voice.

  Phyliss seemed placated, but watched Sweetums to make sure the cat didn’t follow her.

  Gertrude’s doctor didn’t have an opening until Thursday, but a nurse practitioner could see the old lady the following morning at ten. Judith accepted the compromise. She was putting the last of the ginger snaps on a plate for her mother when the front doorbell chimed.

  “Drat,” Judith murmured. “Who can that be?” Family and friends always came in the back way. It was too early for guests to arrive. Check-in time was 4 P.M.

  Judith recognized her new neighbor immediately. But she wasn’t absolutely certain of the visitor’s name. “Hi,” Judith said in a friendly voice. “What can I do for you?”

  A slight smile played around the young woman’s finely chiseled mouth. “I’m Taryn Moss from the house we rented—”

  “Yes,” Judith interrupted, beaming. “You give piano lessons, right?”

  Stepping over the threshold, Taryn nodded. “In the basement. Where it’s quiet.”

  Judith felt that was Taryn’s way of apologizing for Rudi Wittener’s disturbances. “I imagine you play very well yourself,” she said, closing the front door. “Won’t you come into the parlor?”

  Taryn shook her head, which was crowned with a jumble of black curls. “I can’t stay. I have a pupil at four, so I must prepare. But I needed to ask a favor. I understand—that is, the other Mrs. Flynn told me—that besides running your B&B, you have a catering business.”

  “Not anymore,” Judith replied. “I gave that up years ago. We enlarged the B&B, so I had to focus all my attention on our guests.”

  “Oh.” Taryn’s thin, attractive face fell. Judith figured her for midtwenties, at least fifteen years younger than Rudi Wittener. “That’s a shame. I was hoping you could bail me out.”

  “I could recommend someone,” Judith offered.

  Taryn looked pained. “It’s only a small group, less than a dozen, if that. But our place is really small.”

  Judith knew the house well. Too well, and not just because of Vivian Flynn’s off-and-on residency. An older couple had lived there for years, and the wife had been brutally killed. The property had gone up for sale, but even though the sellers had given full disclosure of what had happened on the premises, Herself had been undaunted. Murder was a minor obstacle in the first Mrs. Flynn’s journey to alcoholic oblivion.

  “The thing is,” Taryn went on before Judith could make any other suggestions, “three of the guests plan on staying at your B&B. In fact, Mrs. Kluger may have already contacted you.”

  “Oh!” In the anxiety over Gertrude’s “spell,” Judith had forgotten about the Kluger reservation. “Yes, she called just a short time ago.”

  Taryn nodded. “Rudi told her about Hillside Manor. You see, Dolph Kluger is Rudi’s mentor. He’s coming to visit us.”

  Taryn didn’t look very excited at the prospect. “How nice,” Judith said in a noncommittal tone.

  “Mrs. Kluger’s daughter by her first husband is also coming,” Taryn continued, still without enthusiasm. “What I thought was that if we could have the little party at your B&B…” Leaving the sentence unfinished, she shrugged.

  Judith wanted to keep peace in the cul
-de-sac. It was crucial for her business, and also important to the rest of the longtime neighbors. “How about this?” she said. “You can give the party here, but supply your own food and beverages.”

  Taryn’s face brightened. “That’s wonderful. We’ll pay for using your place.”

  “A minimal fee,” Judith said. “Just to cover…any breakage or spillage.” She smiled in her friendliest manner. “A hundred dollars?”

  “That’s fine,” Taryn replied, also smiling. “Wednesday evening, around six?”

  Judith considered. “I don’t know how many other guests will be staying here. Six to seven is the usual social hour. Could we make it for seven so we don’t disrupt the regular schedule?”

  Taryn nodded. “Okay. We’ll probably all go out to dinner afterward. Should we provide glasses and plates and such?”

  “No,” Judith answered. “I have plenty of serving items. You can use the oven or the microwave to warm up any hot appetizers.”

  “That’s so nice of you,” Taryn declared, looking genuinely pleased. “I’ve been dreading this.”

  Judith was puzzled. “You mean, asking me to host the party?”

  Taryn shook her head. “Not that so much as…oh, it’ll be fine.”

  “Of course it will,” Judith assured her. “I’ll do my best to make sure everybody has a good time.”

  Judith would keep her word to make the proper preparations. But a good time was far from the way she’d later describe the event.

  TWO

  NURSE PRACTITIONER DAVIS could find nothing seriously wrong with Gertrude. Her vital signs were good—for a woman of her age. Various blood tests were taken, with results due in a few days. It might, the nurse practitioner suggested, be that Gertrude needed new glasses. It had been over two years since her trifocal prescription had been changed. Judith couldn’t get an appointment with the ophthalmologist for another three weeks.

  “I can see fine,” Gertrude declared on the way home. “Look out for that deer!”

  Judith was driving down the city’s main north-south avenue that led to the bridge over the ship canal. “That’s not a deer. It’s a motorcycle.”

  “With antlers?”

  “The rider doesn’t have antlers,” Judith replied.

  “Then he must have horns on his head,” Gertrude said stubbornly. “I always figured that was the case with people who ride motorcycles.”

  “Actually,” Judith said as she drew closer to the cyclist, “it’s a cop. I better slow down.”

  The cop kept going, past the turnoff to Heraldsgate Hill at the far end of the bridge. As Judith drove up the hill, she asked her mother if she’d mind waiting in the car at Falstaff’s Grocery.

  “I have to get a couple of items for dinner,” Judith said. “I forgot there was a sale on whole-bodied fryers.”

  “Have they got whole-bodied people?” Gertrude asked. “I could use a new one. My original’s falling apart.”

  “The nurse practitioner said you were in remarkably good health for your age,” Judith reminded her mother. “It’ll take less than five minutes.”

  Inside the store, Judith bought two of the chickens—one for that evening and the other to put in the freezer. She also picked up some fresh broccoli. Three minutes later, she was headed for the checkout stand. Renie was already there, her cart piled high.

  “I thought you were broke, coz,” Judith said, gazing at the multitude of items, which included Kobe beef steaks, New Zealand lamb chops, French cheeses, and three cans of Alaskan smoked salmon.

  “I am,” Renie replied, “but Bill and I still have to eat. The dog-food aisle didn’t look that tempting.”

  “Neither do you,” Judith remarked, taking in her cousin’s droopy red T-shirt with its Arkansas Razorbacks hog logo, stained black sweatpants, and shoes that looked like they’d slogged through a pigsty.

  “Thanks,” Renie snapped. “I was about to say that you certainly look better since you gained a few pounds. But I won’t tell you now.”

  “Thanks anyway.” Judith and Renie were the closest of cousins, and could say just about anything to each other without creating permanent hard feelings. Each had been an only child, and their families had lived two blocks apart. All her life, Judith had fought a weight problem, but in the past couple of years she’d dieted strenuously because less meat on her bones was easier on her hip. She’d gone too far, however, getting run-down and looking gaunt. Finally taking Renie’s advice to add a little weight, she’d also acquired a new hair color, a golden-streaked brown to cover the prematurely white hair that had made her look much older than she really was.

  Renie pushed her cart up to the counter. “I’ve spent all day trying to track down new clients,” she said to Judith as the checker began to scan her items. “I’m coming up empty.”

  “The B&B isn’t doing much better,” Judith admitted. “A few more reservations have trickled in, but I’ve been reduced to earning a hundred bucks by letting Rudi’s girlfriend hold a party tomorrow night for some of the guests who’re staying with us.”

  “You should’ve charged three times that much,” Renie declared, getting out her checkbook.

  “They have to provide the food and drink,” Judith replied. “I didn’t feel I should ask for more. It’s a neighborly peace-keeping gesture.”

  Renie stopped in the act of rummaging for a pen at the bottom of her huge handbag. “Hey—didn’t I hear that the symphony was going to start a big fund-raising drive? That usually requires promotional materials. Some of the other cultural groups in town are trying to raise money. They’ve all had attendance problems in the past few years because of the dot-com slump. I should call my old pal Melissa.”

  Melissa Bargroom was the classical-music critic for the local newspaper. “What are you talking about?” Judith asked.

  Renie had gone back to rummaging. The checker indicated a pen on the counter. Renie shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m an artist by trade. I can only use my own pens.” She kept digging. “Melissa would know if the symphony needed any design work. I assume Rudi will be at your party, too. Maybe some other symphony people will show up. I could put a flea in their ear. Damn! Where is that pen?”

  “Rudi’s new to the symphony, and the gathering is very small,” Judith said. “Why don’t you get Melissa to mention your name? She knows all those people.”

  “I should,” Renie agreed. “Still…oops!” She dropped her handbag, spilling its contents all over the floor. Lipsticks, gum, breath mints, nail files, keys, bankbooks, Kleenex, eyeliner, hairbrush, cell phone, dental floss, compact, mascara wand, pillbox, several coins, two pens, a pair of champagne-colored underpants, and what looked like a wilted stalk of leafy rhubarb rolled around the aisle.

  Judith couldn’t bend over to help Renie retrieve her belongings. “Underpants? Dare I ask?”

  “Hey,” Renie replied without so much as a blush, “at our age, you never know.”

  Judith shrugged. “So what’s that thing that looks like rhubarb?” she asked, ignoring the mutters of customers who had queued up behind the cousins.

  “Rhubarb,” Renie replied, scrambling around on the floor.

  “You hate rhubarb,” Judith said.

  “I know.” Renie finally gathered everything together and dumped all of it except one of the pens back in her handbag. She saw the checker eyeing her with curiosity. “I didn’t shoplift the rhubarb. I got it out of a neighbor’s garden a while ago.”

  “Of course you didn’t shoplift, Mrs. Jones.” The checker, who was thirtyish and whose name tag read Alana smiled faintly. She seemed accustomed to Renie’s peculiar antics. “Our produce is always fresh,” Alana added as some of the customers in line began moving to other registers.

  “Right.” Renie scowled at the total on the register’s digital readout. “Sheesh. A hundred and twenty bucks. I hope I still have that much in our account. Oh, well.” She finished writing the check and handed it over to Alana.

  “So why are you carryin
g rhubarb in your purse?” Judith asked as the courtesy clerk bagged Renie’s items.

  “I forgot it was there,” Renie admitted. “Everything falls to the bottom in this satchel. I was going to do a brochure for a co-op grocery, but they went bust before I could finish it. Can I come tomorrow night?”

  “To the party?” Judith shrugged. “I can’t see the point, but go ahead. I won’t have much to do, so we can sit in the kitchen and visit.”

  “I’d rather schmooze,” Renie said. “Who knows? Maybe somebody from the symphony board will be there.”

  “I doubt it,” Judith responded, paying cash for her few items. “Oh, shoot!” she cried. “I left Mother in the car. She must be wondering why I’ve taken so long.”

  “Tell her it was my fault,” Renie said, following the courtesy clerk to her Camry. “I lost my underpants.”

  “She’ll believe it,” Judith replied with a sigh. “By the way, they told Mother at the clinic that she’s fine.”

  “No surprise there,” Renie muttered. “So’s my mom. It sounds like they were the life of the party on that cruise they took last spring. It must have rejuvenated them.”

  Judith nodded. “Between your mother’s social skills and my mother’s cardplaying, they had a wonderful trip.”

  “That’s more than we had,” Renie responded, thanking the courtesy clerk and closing the Camry’s trunk lid. “We never got out of port in San Francisco.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Judith said.

  Gertrude had rolled down the window and was barking at a poodle in the car that was parked in the next stall.

  “Now what?” Renie asked before getting into the Camry.

  Judith shook her head. “Never mind. Mother’s having a dogfight.”

  Renie merely shook her head and got into her car. Gertrude was still barking at the poodle that, of course, was barking right back.

  “Mother,” Judith said as she slid into the driver’s seat, “stop. It’s only a dog. He’s getting tired of waiting all alone.”