Must Love Dogs

by Claire Cook

  My father was greeting guests in our front hallway. He wore a Santa hat, of course, and red suspenders hooked on to black slacks over a crisp white shirt. When I kissed him, he smelled a shade too much of Old Spice. “You look great, Dad.”

  “And you, my dear, are a vision.” My brothers and sisters were clumped around Dad. I made the rounds with hugs.

  A pretty redhead in a tuxedo approached us with a silver tray and a stack of cocktail-sized napkins. “Salmon mousse?” she offered.

  “Pretty fancy, Dad,” I said, munching a mousse-laden cracker. “Mmm, this is fabulous.”

  “As I’ve said my entire life, when Billy Hurlihy does something, he does it up right.” My brothers and sisters and I looked at each other, smiled at how many times we’d heard that one during the course of our lives. “And it all came with the bus. Catchy gimmick: they unload the whole shebang, serve at your house, load it back up, and then you eat and drink your way to wherever it is you’re going.”

  My father took a sip of his champagne. “Make sure you find the young fellow with the risotto balls, Sarah. You wouldn’t want to miss them.”

  I waited. It didn’t take long. “Where did the guy with the risotto balls go?” my brother Johnny began, handing me a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “We really must find him for Sarah.”

  “Cute,” I said.

  “Yeah, Sarah,” Christine added. “You simply haven’t lived until you’ve found a guy with risotto balls.”

  “Personally, I’ve made them an absolute requirement,” Carol said. “Risotto balls, that is.”

  “Come on, you guys, grow up,” I said. “What does that even mean?”

  “Oh, my God, it’s worse than we thought,” Michael said to Billy. They raised their eyebrows in identical looks of horror. “She doesn’t even know. About risotto balls.”

  Dad was shaking his head. “All right, all right. That’s enough. We’ll have no trash talking under my roof. And never forget, for a single moment, that as long as your father is still alive and kicking, not one of you is too old to have your mouth washed out with soap.”

  *

  Dozens of family photographs hung in the hallway, gallery-like, flanking the staircase. A sepia wedding photo of my parents, Dad’s arm draped across Mom’s shoulders like a mantle, optimistic smiles on their faces. A color portrait of all six children taken on this very staircase: the three girls seated together on one step in identical pleated skirts and round-collared white blouses, the three boys a couple of steps higher in matching jackets and ties, their knees digging into our backs.

  I ran my fingers along the curved mahogany banister, the wood burnished by decades of hands guiding our everyday ascents and descents, as well as our occasional wild slides when our parents weren’t looking. I studied the photographs. Six high school senior pictures in a long, staggered row. Snapshots of Christmas. Easter. Birthday parties. Summer vacations. I spent time with each photo, each face, searching the eyes for clues.

  The kitchen door swung open, startling me. The pretty redhead and the guy with risotto balls emerged, managing to kiss and carry their trays at the same time. I felt like an intruder in my former house.

  “Oh, hi,” said the redhead, smiling, confident. Elegant flutes of champagne balanced easily on her tray.

  “Mistletoe,” said the other, blushing. He extended his tray to me.

  “No, thanks.” I joined him in his blush.

  The three of us gazed at the photographs for a minute. “So, which one are you?” asked the redhead.

  “Right here,” I said, pointing. It was nice to know where I was for a change.

  *

  I sat in a seat near the back of the empty bus. Eight small television sets, framed in teal and gray to match the upholstery, hung from the ceiling in two rows. It’s a Wonderful Life played soundlessly on all of them, while Frank Sinatra crooned “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire” from multiple suspended speakers.

  I watched Siobhan climb up the stairs of the bus. She walked halfway down the aisle, then stopped to flash her navel at me from underneath a cropped purple sweater.

  “Looks great,” I said.

  “You bring a date?” she asked.

  “A couple dozen. You?”

  “About the same,” Siobhan said with a big smile that didn’t have even a trace of an adolescent pout in it. She slid into the seat across from mine.

  Ian and Trevor ran down the aisle of the bus. They ignored us and stood outside the door of the bathroom. “Liar,” said Trevor.

  “It does, too. Where else would it go?”

  “Does not.”

  “Does too. Okay, you go in and pee and I’ll stand outside the bus and tell you when it comes out on the driveway.”

  “Oh, yeah, right, Ian. If you’re so stupid, why don’t you try it,” Trevor challenged him. Siobhan rolled her eyes at me.

  Lorna came down the aisle, followed by a squat, dark-haired man with a decidedly surly expression on his face. “Lorna,” I said, “I’m so glad you came. Lorna, this is my niece Siobhan. Siobhan, this is my friend Lorna, you’ve probably seen her at Bayberry, and this is her husband Mat — ”

  “Jim,” Lorna said, reaching back to put her arm around him.

  “Is that the bathroom?” Mattress Man said by way of greeting. He walked by us with what might have been a grunt.

  We watched him disappear behind the teal and gray upholstered door. “When he comes back out,” Lorna said, “you’ll see that he’s actually a brilliant conversationalist.”

  June got on the bus, followed closely by Ray Santia. I scrunched down low in my seat. The downside of living in a small town like Marshbury was that your past never went far enough away to let you forget about your mistakes. June and Ray stopped halfway down the aisle and huddled like conspirators, comparing pictures of Creases and Wrinkles. The aisle filled up behind them, and June moved into a seat. Ray followed quickly, without even glancing around for me.

  Austin wiggled past the incoming traffic. “Ms. Hurlihy!” he yelled. “My father and I speeded all the way here! Is that a felony or a misdemeanor?” Austin stopped abruptly when he came to June’s seat. June and Ray turned around, finally noticed me. I smiled and waved, tried to look like I hadn’t been hiding.

  I looked past them. The bus was almost full. My father was seated in the front seat, Santa hat still on, ready to play copilot. He was talking animatedly with Bob Connor. Apparently, my entire past was going to get on the bus. Bob Connor looked at his watch. My father said something to the waitress, who nodded. The last chrome cooler was carried aboard by the caterers. The bus driver started the engine.

  *

  Carol stood at the front of the bus, waving my good wool coat back and forth. “Where would you be without me?” she yelled down the aisle. “Oh, and here’s your date.”

  Carol handed John Anderson my coat as he moved past her. Their movements were smooth, almost choreographed. It was probably my imagination, but it seemed as if the whole bus watched John weave his way down the aisle. He was wearing a gorgeous camel-hair coat over a black suit. White shirt, red tie. “Hi,” he said when he reached me. “Is this seat saved?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact it is.” I slid over, smiling. We were both smiling.

  “Sorry I’m late. There was more traffic than I expected. I probably should have left earlier but I got caught up in a Get Smart festival on Nickelodeon.”

  “You watch Nickelodeon?”

  “Well, not just anything. I’m very fussy. But Get Smart has it all. Max is maybe a bumbler, but he gets the job done, and he and Agent Ninety-nine are such a great team. And the gadgets on the show still hold up. I’ve actually been wondering if Max’s shoe phone design could work as a cell phone. You know how there’s never a great place to carry your cell phone? Well….I guess I’m getting carried away. Sorry, Sarah.” He reached over and held my hands with both of his. His eyes twinkled. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I brought the bottle.”


  I smiled. “I brought one, too. Just in case you forgot.”

  Bob Connor leaned over us. “Go ahead, Austin, I’ll wait right here,” he said. He smiled and extended his hand to John. “Kids and bathrooms, what can I say. He wants to see what happens when he flushes.”

  “Nice to see you again,” John said.

  “Don’t kid a kidder,” Bob said.

  I glanced at Bob, his tousled curls, his green green eyes and twisted front tooth. He was wearing a dark gray jacket, a light pink shirt. He didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable around me. In fact, it was as if once he’d slept with me, I no longer existed. There was simply one fewer name on the list of women he hadn’t been with yet. I was surprised I wasn’t more upset about it.

  I looked him straight in the eyes. “One question, Bob. What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, Austin and I ran into Dolly outside her trailer. She had just called your father, somebody from the caterers answered the phone and, long story short, she was on her way over here to kill that good-for-nothin’ Billy Hurlihy.”

  “How did you stop her?”

  “I didn’t. I talked her into changing her outfit to something that did justice to her fine figure and milky complexion. Austin and I did a little bit of spiffing up ourselves” — Bob stopped, brushed some imaginary lint from his shoulder — “and we jumped back in the car, hightailed it over here first to warn your dad, and even managed to finagle an invitation to this shindig.”

  “Ms. Hurlihy!” Austin yelled as he came out of the bathroom. “Did you know we’re going to ride all the way to the symphony on this bus, Ms. Hurlihy? I bet Max Meehan and Molly Greene have never even been on a fancy bus like this. But, don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody I got to come and they didn’t. You can absolutely, positively, no crossies allowed, trust me that mummies the word.”

  Chapter 31

  Just as the bus was pulling out of the driveway, we heard the angry squeal of brakes. I pulled back the cafe curtain covering the window John Anderson and I shared, recognized the Ford Fiesta pulling in beside us. “Uh-oh. Dolly.”

  I leaned over John to look up the aisle at my father. He’d opened his curtain a crack and was peering out his window. “You want me to stop, Mr. Hurlihy?” the bus driver asked him.

  “No, young man, I do not. I want you to put your pedal to the metal. The sooner the better, I might add.” Dolly’s horn blared repeatedly. My father stood up halfway, raised his voice. “What I mean is, let’s agitate some gravel. Now.” He looked back at us all, smiled reassuringly, raked his hair.

  The driver grinded the gears, accelerated. We felt a thud, a mild rocking of the bus. More beeps, another jolt, this time with a slight metallic crunch. “I think Dolly really wants to come, too, Dad,” Austin said.

  “Stop the bus,” my father said unnecessarily. All of the cafe curtains were open now, and the passengers who discovered they didn’t have a view rushed to the opposite side. Good thing it’s not a boat, I thought randomly. We watched Dolly back up, narrowly missing a large rhododendron with frost-curled leaves. She maneuvered back onto the driveway and parked, blocking our rear exit. She got out of her car and carefully locked all four doors.

  “Why’d ya have to go and hit me, lady?” the bus driver asked over the pressurized swoosh of the opening door.

  “Cool your jets, sweet stuff. That’s why God invented bus insurance.”

  My father stood bravely. “Dolly, darlin’, I made these plans long before I ever met you.”

  “Then I guess you had plenty of time to unmake them, didn’t you, Mr. Lying, Cheating, Good-for-Nothin’ Billy Hurlihy.”

  Bob Connor stood up and walked bravely down the aisle. “Dolly, you made it!”

  “Don’t Dolly me, you little sneak. And what, might I ask, are you doing here?”

  “Austin and I thought we’d better get over here just in case you needed any back up.” Bob stopped a safe distance away from her. “And, by the way, those colors really bring you to your full potential.” He took another step. “Don’t waste your time on that old guy, Dolly. Come back and sit with us. We’ve been hoping another beautiful woman would show up.”

  Dolly put her hands on her hips, tilted her chin up at my father. “Well, I guess you had that coming.” She turned to Bob Connor, grabbed his elbow. “Come on, Bobby. Dolly wants to meet your friends.”

  *

  Carol leaned into the aisle from the seat in front of us. When that didn’t give her enough of a view, she got up and walked back to our seat. “I knew it,” she said. “I knew you two would end up together.”

  I covered my face with my hands. “Please make her stop,” I begged. My family would not be within ten miles of us on our next date.

  “Why do you say that, Carol?” John asked. He seemed to be enjoying this. I elbowed him.

  “Well, I had a pretty good idea anyway, but as soon as I saw your page on the clipboard, I knew you were the odds-on favorite.”

  “Carol. Shut up. Now.” To say I was blushing would be a major understatement.

  “Okay,” she said. She rested a hand on John’s shoulder. “We’ll talk later.”

  John and I looked at each other. “Do you think I’d die immediately if I jumped out that window or would it be long and painful, like this moment?” I asked.

  “Relax, Sarah.” John reached out, put his hand on my wrist. “It’s okay. I’ll pretend I never even knew there was a clipboard.” He moved his hand until it was holding mine. “Just give me a quick rundown of the highlights of my page first.”

  *

  Marlene greeted us at the entrance to the first balcony. She wore a black velvet jumper over a tartan plaid turtleneck. A gold tuba pin, holly sprigs poking out of its orifice, perched over her right breast. Marlene’s brother Mark had his arm around a tall woman who looked suspiciously like the blonde on the poster at Pins and Needles. “Nicetaseeyaagain,” he said to me.

  “That’s the woman from Cambridge, the singles lady,” John said calmly as we stood sipping champagne.

  I laughed. “Marlene? Marlene is the singles lady?”

  “I’m only speaking to you long enough to tell you,” I said to Carol in the marble bathroom a few minutes later, “that Marlene hosts singles soirees in Cambridge.” I fixed my lipstick in the mirror and waited for Carol to acknowledge my find.

  “Of course she does. Where do you think Dad went first on Thanksgiving?”

  “Jeez, Carol. Can’t I find out something before you? Just once? Dad went to a singles Thanksgiving soiree?”

  “Um-hmm.”

  “And is this a singles symphony soiree?”

  Carol laughed, adjusted the lace collar on her long velvet dress. “Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. Can’t you for once just have a good time?”

  *

  “Hi.” Phoebe walked into the ladies’ room just after Carol walked out. I was leaning in toward the mirror, attending to my lipstick with the careful concentration of a child doing paint by numbers. I was in awe of women who could find their lips without a mirror. Phoebe, of course, took out her lipstick and applied it while examining a brass-and-crystal wall sconce.

  “Sarah,” she said, turning to look at me in the mirror. “I’m sure Michael’s told you all sorts of awful things about me. But I want you to know — ”

  “Michael has never once said anything bad about you.” Phoebe looked at me as if wondering whether to believe it. “Really. All he’s ever said is how much he loves you. I don’t talk about you with Michael any more than I’d talk about Michael to you.”

  Phoebe put her lipstick away in a small black sequined bag. “I’m surprised. I guess I thought you all sat around joking about how terrible I am. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but your whole family makes me nervous. I feel like I’m back in high school and the popular kids don’t like me one little bit.”

  This was the most I’d ever liked Phoebe. “I feel that way pretty much all day long,” I said, “if it’s any consolation.”

  *


  “The First Noel” was mostly strings and it sounded like being in heaven. John Anderson reached over to hold my hand. “The Holly and the Ivy” turned into “Silent Night,” which made way for “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” In front of me, Phoebe put her head on Michael’s shoulder. My father whispered something to Marlene, then wove his way back toward the bathrooms. Dolly brushed off Bob Connor’s attempts at restraint and followed him.

  Behind me, Carol whispered, “So, who wants to go after them?” Nobody said anything.

  During the applause following “Feliz Navidad,” John Anderson leaned over to whisper to me. “Maybe I’ll go take a little look-see. Just make sure everything’s okay.”

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Carol leaned forward and said, “Could be serious, he’s already trying to get in good with the family. And he’s got a lot of guts, heading into Dollyworld.”

  I drifted happily as Tchaikovsky’s “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” turned into a jazzy rendition of Duke Ellington’s “Sugar Rum Cherry,” thinking Dad would be sorry he missed this one.

  *

  Marlene sat down beside me. “Thank you so much for inviting us,” I whispered, sounding like an overly polite seven-year-old. I wondered if Marlene was timing my father’s absence, if I should make up an excuse for him.

  Marlene smiled elegantly. “My pleasure. Billy has a lovely family. Perhaps you’ll all come to dinner one night.”

  Even I knew whose turn it was to invite. “Or maybe you could come to Sunday dinner at our house?” I said, trying to convince us both I meant it.

  “I’d love to.” Marlene toyed with her brass pin. “Just let me know when the Dolly coast is clear.”

  “You know about Dolly?” Carol whispered from behind. She leaned her head in close.

  “Of course, I know about Dolly. Although I have to admit today is my first actual sighting. Your father, by the way, is worth every bit of the commotion he causes.”

  “Shenanigans. Dolly calls them his shenanigans.”