Granny’s right brow rises. “Then you saw something that makes you think he’s not a good man.”
“No, he’s the best.”
“Let me see if I got this right. You love him. He makes you happy. He’s a good man. And he’s asked you to marry him.”
She looks into her mother’s eyes. “Yes, that’s it.”
“I can’t see why you’re crying,” Granny says, frowning so intently, her lips almost fall off her face.
Fran resumes shredding tissues. “I tried marriage, and it didn’t work. What if I marry him and he turns out to be like Herb?”
“Marriage,” Granny grunts, “is nothing in itself. It’s a union between two people. It changes with the people involved.”
“And Frank is nothing like Herb,” my mother adds.
Fran shakes her head. “No, he isn’t, but what if he becomes like Herb?” my aunt sniffs. “Herb wasn’t always Herb.”
Granny’s voice embraces its natural shrillness. “Sure, he was. You were just too young and naive to see it. Herb is Herb, and Frank is Frank. You can’t compare the two.”
“Herb was nice when I met him. I loved him when we married. I thought he was a good person who would make me happy.”
Granny snorts. “Herb was never nice. Both your father and I told you not to marry him. You argued with us when we said there was something not right about the man. You told us that we didn’t know him like you did. You forced us to accept him into the family, and we did. You were young and blinded by love. It’s understandable. But you’re not young anymore, Francis. Don’t make another mistake. Franklin Hennesy is a good man, and you’re happy with him. Fear is understandable, but only a fool lets fear make decisions for them.”
Fran stiffens. “Experience taught me to be careful.”
“Perhaps, but people always go on about rash decisions. They rarely warn how happiness can seep from your fingers if you do nothing to hold onto it. The man asked you to marry him. You deserve a chance at happiness. If you don’t take it, you might not get another.”
Aunt Fran looks to my mother.
“She’s right,” Ma says. Her voice becomes wistful. “Can you afford to throw away a chance at happiness? Are you so sure you’ll get another? They don’t come around that often.”
“I don’t know,” Fran sobs. “Part of me knows that you’re right. I’d be a fool to say no to Frank.” The tissues rip soundlessly as she admits something she’d never admitted before. “My marriage to Herb was like being lost in a terrible snowstorm. I could only focus on the swirling snow and biting wind. Everything around me lost its clarity. I couldn’t see a way out, and whenever I tried to move forward, something smacked me down.”
The room’s stillness is powerful. Words we waited to hear reverberate off the walls to fall on our laps. Arriving too late, they only bring sadness and a recollection of powerlessness.
Fran looks past us to gaze out the window. The sun shines in the cloudless sky. “Herb nearly destroyed me, and even though he’s moved on and is out of my life, I sometimes expect the snow to fall and the wind to gather strength.”
Ma gets up to refill her cup. She turns to look at her sister. “Storms are a part of life. No one can promise you that you won’t encounter another. Herb taught you that you’re strong. Walk away from the ordeal knowing that.” She takes her seat beside Fran. “When I was widowed, I wanted to die, but I survived the experience. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but it gave me glimpse of myself at my finest.”
Fran wipes her eyes. “I never thought about it like that.”
Granny reaches over and grabs Fran’s hand. “Think of this, too. Do you want to give Herb the power to spoil your chance at happiness?”
“I gave that man too much of my life,” Fran says. “I won’t give him any more. But I’m scared.”
“Fear proves that you learned a lesson,” Ma says. “But let it be the right one.”
“Add reason to your decision,” Granny urges.
“If I say no, I might lose him.”
“So what are you going to do?” Granny asks. “Coddle your fear or try on a happy marriage instead of one that was a mighty bad fit?”
“I want to be happy.”
Ma pats Fran’s shoulder. “Only you have the power to pursue your own happiness.”
Auntie Fran’s smile lights up the room.
“Do you need help planning the wedding?” Ma asks.
“I do,” Fran says.
Everyone begins to laugh. Auntie Fran is getting married!
Granny’s eyes become big and round. “I’ll take care of the flowers,” she says. We can all guess at what she’s envisioning. The room falls silent.
“That would great, Mom,” Fran finally says. She understands that nothing is perfect. Unfortunately, the biggest problem Fran will encounter has nothing to do with Granny’s garish taste.
Chapter 35
Since it’s a second marriage for both, Frank and Fran opt for a simple affair with family and a few friends. Aunt Fran has a large family, but they’re scattered across various provinces and states. Finances being what they are, most send best wishes since they can’t attend. Frank only has his mother. She lives out west and arrives a week before the wedding.
Everyone who knows Frank assumes that anyone related to him has to be nice. Eugenia Hennessey arrives on a broomstick, and Fran promptly runs to our house in tears.
Fran snatches the cup of tea from Ma’s hands before she can place it on the table. “She doesn’t look dangerous. She’s tall, grey haired, and well dressed. She speaks in a dignified manner.” Tea sloshes as she gesticulates with her arms. “I assumed she was a proper sort of woman.” Fran bangs our table. “It turned out to be a clever disguise.”
Ma takes the tea from her and sets it down. “What do you mean?”
“Eugenia is a tyrant, obsessed with ruling the world, or at least the part that contains her son. When I met her, I smiled and offered my hand. Do you know what she did?” Fran asks.
Ma shakes her head.
“She says, ‘My, aren’t you a healthy one?’ She ignores my hand and grabs hold of my hips and gives them a good shake.”
Granny leans forward in her chair. “What did Frank do?”
“He smiled. He thought his mother hugged me. But she didn’t. She gauged my fat.”
Granny blows on her tea. “Maybe you’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong.” Fran removes something from her bag. “Take a look at this,” she says as she flings it on the kitchen table. “Have you ever seen anything so ugly?”
Ma’s face scrunches as she touches the synthetic yarn. “Is it a blanket?”
“No, it’s the sweater she knit especially for me.”
“It would fit an elephant,” Ma says as she pulls it open and it touches all four corners of the table.
“It sure is colorful, but maybe it was done in bad taste rather than with bad intentions,” Granny says as she tries to placate Fran.
“She gave Frank an expensive plain, blue cable-knit sweater and gift certificates for golfing at his favourite club. She created this monstrosity intentionally.”
“What did you say when you opened the box?” Granny asks.
“I said you shouldn’t have. It must have taken you forever to make it. Then the witch says, ‘Oh, the buttons were tricky.’” Fran holds up the sweater. The buttons are large orange-and-green flowers, crocheted out of the same cheap nylon wool as the sweater.
“What an interesting choice of colours,” Ma says with a frown.
“It’s hideous. Who would mix orange and green flowers with a yellow, red, and blue striped sweater? The result is clownish.”
“I hope you didn’t put it on,” Granny says.
“I had to. She insisted. I couldn’t see a polite way of saying no, and Frank was smiling encouragingly.”
Ma clucks her tongue. “It mustn’t have fit.”
“According to Eugenia, it’s a perfect fit. A
t my size, I mustn’t wear something that clings.”
Granny snorts. “That sweater wouldn’t cling to an elephant.”
“That sweater would fit a beached whale, if the whale was stupid enough to wear it.” Fran flings the sweater to the floor. “She had the nerve to say Frank sent her a photograph of me so she guessed the size. She even laughed about having to go to the yarn shop six times.”
“Maybe it’s a terrible mistake—something best forgotten.”
“It wasn’t a mistake, Ellie. She said seeing the look on my face was worth the effort it took to make it.”
Granny lifts a brow. “I’m sure you weren’t smiling.”
“I was devastated. The woman was laughing at me. After trying it on, I went to put it back into the bag, and Eugenia said, ‘Oh dear, why don’t you wear it? It pleases me to see you in it since it suits you perfectly.’ I thought two can play this game. I turned to her and said I want to save it for special occasions.”
“Good comeback,” Ma says encouragingly.
“It didn’t work. Eugenia insisted I wear it.”
Ma covers her mouth with her hand. “Don’t tell me you wore it outside.”
“I thought I’d wear it for a few minutes, then double bag it and throw it to the curb. Soon as I walked out of the house, I bumped into Debbie Cooper.”
“She’ll tell everyone,” Granny says as she shakes her head.
“Don’t I know it.”
“Did she do anything else, other than the gauging and the sweater?” Ma sees the glint in Fran’s eyes and quickly says, “I know, it was bad enough.”
“She also told me that it should be easy to plan the wedding since I’ve done it before.”
“How snarky,” Ma squawks. “Frank must have heard the rudeness in that.”
“I don’t think so. He appeared perfectly content and even said, ‘It’s so nice to see the two loves of my life getting along so well.’”
“Men can be dense sometimes,” Granny says.
“Things got worse once we were at my house.”
Granny rolls her eyes. “Why did you invite her to your home?”
“I had to. Frank forgot his groceries in my fridge. I was going to drive home and bring the bag back to them, but Eugenia said, ‘Why don’t we walk?’ She leans into me and whispers, ‘The exercise will do you good.’”
Ma never swears, but I’m sure she whispered a nasty word under her breath.
“Once home, I felt obligated to offer coffee. Eugenia quickly accepted. Her eyes became big and round as she studied my home. She said, ‘It’s so clean,’ in a surprised tone. I guess when you’re big and fat, you’re lazy, too.”
“Maybe you’re being too sensitive,” Granny says and gives Ma a look that says the exact opposite.
Fran’s face flushes red. “I don’t think so.”
The veins in Granny’s neck bulge, but her voice remains level as she helps herself to a second cup of tea. “Frank didn’t notice any of this?”
“No, when it comes to his mother, he’s thick. Eugenia says nasty things in a nice voice, and he doesn’t pick up on it. Once I served the coffee, she was primed. She asked me how I met her Frankie. I explained how Marnie’s party escalated into a neighbourhood party and she says, ‘My, wasn’t that your lucky day. You were incredibly fortunate to snare Farley’s most eligible bachelor.’ She made it sound as if I was on the hunt and captured Frank.”
Ma chomps down on a cookie, and it crunches loudly. “I hope Frank said something.”
“He did. He said he was the lucky one. Eugenia’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, but of course he didn’t see that.”
Granny gets up and puts her cup in the sink. “It sounds like you have a real piece of work on your hands. What are you going to do?”
“She’s only down for a week. I’m going to grin and bear it.”
“Thank God she lives out of town.”
“I don’t think I could marry him if she didn’t, Ellie.”
We all agree that it’s a good plan. As Fran is leaving, Granny says, “A week will pass before you know it.”
Chapter 36
“The wedding is off!” Fran bellows as she walks through the door.
Frank Burns shrieks at Hawkeye, who replies to the outburst with a smirk. Ma gets up and turns off the television, even though we waited all week to see the newest episode of M*A*S*H.
“What could be so bad that you want to call off the wedding?” Ma asks as she makes her way into the kitchen. We follow like a band of soldiers.
“Eugenia’s craftiness extends beyond wool,” Fran says as she helps herself to a cup of tea and sits at our kitchen table. “She’s unravelled my plan and weaved a counterattack.”
Ma puts a chocolate croissant on her plate. “What happened?”
“She invited me and Frank to Sardell’s for dinner last night.”
“I heard Sardell’s is a nice restaurant,” Granny says as she rips her croissant in half. “Expensive, too. You should be grateful.”
“Sardell’s is the best restaurant in town. White linen covers the tables, calla lilies decorate every table, and the crystal chandeliers twinkle like stars. I had the seafood linguine, and it was scrumptious.”
“Doesn’t sound like a problem,” Granny mutters between bites.
Fran picks at her croissant. “The problem came when she ordered champagne for a toast. I assumed she accepted that the marriage is going to take place, and the extravagance was her way of saying so.”
Ma looks heavenwards. “But that wasn’t the case.”
“The finest champagne trickles into flutes. We hold our glasses high in readiness for the toast, and she drops a bomb.”
Granny’s eyes become mere slits. “What did she say?”
Fran’s cheeks puff out like a blowfish. “She wants to sell her home and move to Farley Falls.” Once the words escape, her body sags. “Eugenia’s smile is ear to ear. She turns to me and says, ‘You wouldn’t mind if I move in with you two until I find a place?’”
Ma wrings her hands. “Oh Lordy, what did you say?”
“What could I say? I had to say of course not, but even as the words left my mouth, my dream of wedding bliss exploded with her shrill laughter. Frank wanted me to accompany them home to celebrate the good news, but I pretended to have a headache.”
“I’m sure that pleased the old witch,” Granny says.
“She grabbed hold of Frank’s arm, and I knew she’d never let go of him.”
Ma gets up and grabs a rag. She polishes the stove with hard, even strokes. “She knows her attack hit its target.”
Fran’s arms flail in the air. “How could it not? I love Frank, but I can’t have that woman in my life.”
Granny, the family plotter, remains silent as the pieces click into place. “Didn’t you say she has a lot of friends back home? And isn’t she involved in quite a few clubs?” she finally remarks.
“Supposedly, she has a very active social life,” Fran says.
Granny nods. “She’s bluffing. She knows you don’t like her, and she hopes the thought of all of you living under one roof will make you reconsider getting married.”
“Maybe, but what if she’s not?”
“I’m going to find out,” Granny says.
Fran yelps like a dog whose tail is under a fat man’s shoe. “You can’t ask her!”
“I’m not going to ask her.”
“What are you going to do?”
“She’s staying with Frank, right?”
“Yes.”
“Give me his number,” Granny demands as she picks up the phone.
Fran bites her lip. “I don’t think you should call.”
“Give me the number.”
Fran recites the number.
Granny dials the digits. Eugenia obviously answers the phone. “I just heard the news that you’re moving to town,” Granny says in a high, cheerful voice. “We were so happy to hear it. A family should be close. Since we don’t k
now each other very well, I was thinking it would be nice to have you over. I’ll invite a few women from town so you’ll have the opportunity to meet your new neighbours. Tomorrow evening would be perfect.” Granny nods and ends the discussion by saying, “No, just come by yourself. It’s a hen party. Very casual.” She chuckles. “Looking forward to seeing you, too. Be here by six if you can.”
As soon as Granny hangs up the phone, Fran says, “I can’t be here by six. I have things to do.”
“Do them. Show up when you can. Your lateness will probably be for the best anyway.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Granny’s black eyes turn mean. “Eugenia will learn I can spot a snake in the grass, and, unlike you, I won’t run away and hide.” Her voice thickens with wisdom. “Snakes have predators.”
It’s a definite threat. It’s our old lady versus Frank’s old lady. The victor will determine whether a marriage will take place.
Chapter 37
The tail of our cat clock swings from side to side. Ever-watchful eyes keep time with blatant turns. Eugenia is late. The doorbell peals at six fifty two.
“A show of power,” Granny growls. She enters the battlefield with a cunning smile.
My mother pretends not to notice how late our guest is and whispers, “Be good,” in Granny’s ear.
Eugenia slinks out of her jacket and reveals a black pantsuit made of pure silk. The shimmering crystals around her neck mesmerize me. I pull my eyes away and note that most of the guests’ gazes are transfixed on Eugenia, bathing her in admiration.
Granny told her it was a casual affair. Eugenia glances at the informal setting and comfortably dressed woman and slithers into the room with an anguine smile. Granny trails a step behind. Her brown pantsuit lacks lustre when compared to silk. She smiles, and a sharp tooth clips her bottom lip. Eugenia stares down at her. She doesn’t know that Granny doesn’t wear intimidation.
Olivia Johnston, the town’s hairdresser, is at the mouth of the living room—a clever maneuver, since the town’s most eminent gossip pursues prey tirelessly. Libby ambushes the new arrival. Wasting no time, she begins collecting information. “I heard you’re moving to our little town. Where are you from originally?”
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