The guests numbered thirty-five and included the Tates and family, P. J. Prancer and members of his staff, the Herrills, Jane, the librarian from Caster Elementary, Emily and her parents, Mike, Lance, Lurina, Old Man, and Wayne and others.
Nervous, eager to please, Grace moved among the guests with platters of sweets and sandwiches. At one point she approached Ginger Hammer, who lingered outside on the porch. Ginger dripped pink: pink slacks, blouse, jacket, lipstick, pink fingernails, handbag, and shoes.
“My dear Grace.” Ginger accepted a flower-shaped tea sandwich from the platter Grace extended to her.
Grace bridled. Even the tone of Emily’s mother’s voice annoyed her. In her trim white pinafore apron worn over her dress Grace felt put down, and although Bob had reminded her that she, Grace, could take control and allow Ginger’s tone and comments to roll off her back, she could not help but feel diminished. Ginger flung back her head and waved her arm. “You. This place. These cute sandwiches, all so adorable, really.”
Grace retreated, leaving Ginger leaning against a porch column. Ginger eyed Amelia, who waited at the top of the steps, a veritable one-woman committee welcoming their guests. Lance Lundquist stood alongside Amelia, looking as though he were lord of the manor. Ginger’s throat tightened as she appraised Lance. Then she approached Amelia. “You, and Grace, and Hannah live together. I should think it would be quite dull, only women in the house.”
“I assure you it is not dull,” Amelia replied brightly. She arranged her scarf securely about her neck and shoulders. Her shimmering silk scarf matched the sapphire of her eyes. At that moment, Wayne’s pickup turned into the parking area, and moments later he and Old Man were out and reaching up to assist Lurina from the cab. Amelia barely heard Ginger say, “Quaint, a regular menage a trois,” or saw her arched eyebrows raise higher with a questioning look as Lurina’s feet touched the ground. “What an oddity.” Ginger nodded toward the parking lot.
Amelia heard that comment and, fuming inside, drew away from the pink-clad woman and nearly crashed into Grace. Together they hastened down the steps to meet the threesome slowly making their way toward the tearoom. “Miss Lurina, how wonderful to see you, and don’t you look splendid,” Grace said.
Beneath a short lace-edged jacket, Lurina’s dress, a lightweight print challis that came to her ankles smelled, not of mothballs, but of cedar. Lurina smiled a shy, closedmouthed smile. “They was right good fellas, these two. They come and get me, and waited for me to finish fixin’ up for your party, Grace.” Lurina’s single braid was wound three times around and crowned her head, pulling her forehead tight, and widening her eyes. They must have been pretty eyes, and flirtatious, Grace thought. Why had Lurina never married? There was a story someday perhaps Lurina would tell her.
The years had eroded Old Man’s height, bent his shoulders, and bowed his knees. His dark blue suit, baggy over his shoes and shiny at the elbows, suggested attending a funeral, not a celebration. But his eyes twinkled, and he stayed close to Lurina. With protracted steps, they made their way to the porch, where Bob offered his arm and escorted Lurina Masterson, as if she were a queen, into the dining room to a round table where Brenda and Harold Tate sat with Molly and Ted Lund, Claudia Craine Prinze, her daughter, Paulette, and of course glued to Paulette’s side, Tyler, who appeared to have forgotten all else, so taken was he with twelve-year-old Paulette.
Everyone at the table rose to welcome Lurina and Old Man. Wayne drifted away to the punch bar set up in one corner of the room. Immediately the natives of Cove Road began to chat about their neighbors: who had moved to Asheville or beyond, about new babies, about illnesses and recoveries. Ignoring his toothless gums, Lurina passed Old Man crustless egg salad sandwiches, and seemed bewildered when the platter was empty. At a sign from Brenda, Tyler ran into the kitchen and returned with a plate heaped with tiny sandwiches, some on brown, some on white bread, some shaped as hearts, others as flowers. Lurina graced him with a pleased smile. “Why, ain’t you a right nice boy.”
Eventually, as it nearly always did this time of year, the talk turned to the ladybug infestation. “You want to save them, at first,” Molly said, “so you scoop them up and deposit them outside, but by the third day, your empathy for them disappears, and you go from irritation to sheer disgust, and you hate them.”
“They’ll go away when real cold sets in,” Brenda said, looking for Harold out of the corner of her eye. He had excused himself from their table to chat with Martin Hammer and Bob near the kitchen door. He looked content.
“I kind of like sittin’ and watchin’ ladybugs. They fall down and die, and after some days they shrivel up and disappear.” Lurina looked from one face to the other and settled on Tyler’s. “Kind of ladybug round about here’s got nineteen spots. Ever count ’em, boy?”
“No, ma’am,” Tyler replied. He poked Paulette in the ribs, and they giggled.
“I’ve found the best way to handle them is to turn on a light in one corner,” Brenda said. “Ladybugs migrate to light, chunk all together in a corner of the ceilin’, so they’re easier to vacuum.” She helped herself to a cheese puff and a cucumber sandwich.
“I like the little critters.” Old Man nodded approvingly at Lurina. Then they sat in silence for a time sipping tea and devouring Grace’s sandwiches.
Lurina’s eagle eyes roamed the room. “Who’s the goodlookin’ couple over yonder seem all caught up in each other?” Lurina asked.
Tyler skinned up his nose. “That’s my dad, and his new friend, Emily. Her folks live over in Loring Valley.” He and Paulette giggled.
“They sweethearts?” Lurina asked.
“Nah! Just friends. Dad’s too busy with me, and Grandpa, and Granny Grace to have a sweetheart.” He and Paulette giggled hard and doubled over.
Just then Russell took Emily’s hand and they walked over to the table. “Miss Lurina?”
“That’s me.”
“Grace has spoken of you often. I’m Tyler’s father, and Bob Richardson is my father. I’m pleased to meet you. This is Emily Hammer. Her folks live in Loring Valley.” He reached for a table napkin and wiped Tyler’s chin. “Now, what’s going on here, young man?” He turned to Brenda. “If Tyler gets raucous, disturbs any of you, just give me an eye, will you? He’ll spend the rest of the afternoon sitting out on the steps.” He eyed Paulette. “Alone.”
“Leave ’em be.” Lurina waved both hands as if to shoo Russell away. “He’s a good boy, just likes t© laugh.” She looked coyly at Old Man and nudged his arm.
“Any trouble, just let me know.” Russell reached for Emily’s hand, and the pair drifted away into the crowd.
“Ain’t sweethearts, eh?” Lurina whispered to Old Man, and they laughed and nodded yes to the pitcher of punch Wayne brought to their table.
“Don’t you get yourself drunk, Old Man,” he admonished his grandfather. Wayne winked at Lurina. “Or I’m gonna have to put you to sleep it off on Miss Lurina’s couch.”
Their shoulders touched and the two old people laughed and shooed Wayne away. “Git you gone, boy,” Lurina said.
“Git you gone, Dad,” Tyler whispered, waving his hand at his father’s back. Paulette heard, and again they burst into giggles.
Moments later, Hannah came to the table. “Miss Lurina,” she said. “Welcome. I see you’re in the best of company.” She smiled warmly at Brenda and Molly and tousled Tyler’s red hair, then pulled up a chair and sat with them for a time, chatting about the table decorations and how nice the place was.
Out on the porch, Ginger noticed Lance standing alone. A quick look assured her that Martin, and Bob, and Harold were engrossed in conversation at a small table near the kitchen door. Unself-consciously, Ginger sidled up to Lance and without a word squeezed the biceps of his right arm. “Work out a lot?” she asked.
“Some.”
“Where?”
“I have a home gym.” He stepped back.
Ginger moved into his personal space. “And wh
ere, pray tell, do you live?”
“Loring Valley.” He backed away from her.
Her eyes grew seductive. She tipped her head. “We’re neighbors.”
Unnoticed, Amelia watched this interchange from inside. Lance had been courting her with flowers, phone calls, gifts, and special treats. He had taken her to see a Broadway musical, Smokey Joe’s Cafe, at the Peace Center in Greenville, South Carolina. He had spared no expense, and had even hired a limo to transport them to and from Greenville. She loved being with him, and was very upset when suddenly he had announced that he must go out of town, and then refused to say where to or why. Amelia’s happiness had been jolted. When he returned she’d asked, “How was your trip?”
“Tiring. Same as every trip. I go every month.”
Amelia was dismayed. “Where did you go?”
His eyes went gray. “I do not discuss personal business, Amelia. Please get that into your pretty little head.” He looked deep into her eyes then, and his eyes were blue again. “How beautiful you are. You have the loveliest eyes I’ve ever seen.” And she had melted. Later, his whispered endearments made it easy for her to set aside her doubts.
Now, Ginger flirting with him infuriated her. Quickly, Amelia joined them on the porch, and slipping her arm through Lance’s, she gave him her most innocent big-blue-eyes look. “Lance, we need you to pop the champagne.”
Ginger swept ahead of them into the tearoom and stopped, exclaiming, “Well, this beats all.”
A circle of guests, their eyes shining with appreciation and approval, watched as Old Man led Lurina Masterson in a slow waltz. It mattered not at all that they missed some of the beats, that they danced haltingly, or that they were old and bent and wrinkled. At that moment, they were simply beautiful.
It was seven o’clock and dark when the last vehicle pulled out of the parking lot, and Bob put his arm about Grace and led her to a table near a window far from the kitchen. “You sit. You’ve been on your feet enough today.” He stroked her hair. “I’ll get Russell, and Emily, Tyler, and Paulette can help, and we’ll clean up and fill the dish-washer.”
“Where is Tyler?” Grace asked.
“With Paulette playing Go Fish on the porch. We’ll drop her off at home when we leave here tonight.”
“Isn’t it too chilly for them outside?”
“Kids don’t feel chilly, haven’t you noticed?”
Grace’s day had begun at five A.M. when she woke to prepare three tall and beautifully iced Vienna cakes that were devoured within the first half hour. The recipe had been a friend’s grandmother’s, and over the years Grace had changed it. She mixed each layer separately and colored each layer with egg coloring, which produced moist layers in rose, yellow, green, and pink. All day long she had cooked: sheet after sheet of cookies, and endless platters of finger sandwiches and French pastries. Now, Grace’s feet, legs, arms, back, and shoulders groaned for rest. Grace leaned back in the armchair, slipped off her shoes, and stretched her feet. Within moments Hannah joined her, pulled up two chairs, sat in one, slipped off her shoes, and set her feet on the padded seat.
“What a relief to be unshod,” she said.
“Your flowers are just magnificent, Hannah. Thank you.” Grace pushed the flowerpot with its pink blossoms to one side of the table so that she could see Hannah’s face.
“The food was sumptuous. A huge success, Grace.” Hannah patted her stomach. “I’m stuffed.”
“It went well, didn’t it?” Grace brushed back hair from her eyes and set her elbows on the table. “Elbows off the table” was what her mother would say when she was a girl, and even later. There was no one, now, to nag her about sitting up straight, or to slap her arms and elbows, so she left them there, and in time lowered her arms and rested her head on them. She felt Hannah’s fingers pass lightly across her hair, and heard her say, “Poor dear, tired, tired, tired.”
Comforted, Grace nodded, though she wondered, yet again, if the tearoom wasn’t too much at this moment in her life, what with all her other interests and commitments.
“Maybe this is a mistake,” she said softly not looking up.
“The tearoom?” Hannah asked.
“Yes.”
“Like my greenhouse? What did you tell me then, Grace?”
“That it would be too much for you.”
“It was,” Hannah said.
“And I suggested you sell it,” Grace said.
“So,” Hannah continued, “I suggest that you build up the tearoom for a few months, then sell it to one of the newcomers in Loring Valley. There’s got to be some advantage to these people living here. There’ll be someone who’s always dreamed of having her own business just down the road.” Grace nodded, smiled weakly, and let her head fall into the crook of her arm.
Hannah touched Grace’s head lightly with her hand. It had been a long day. Where’s it going to end? Hannah wondered. She thought of Bob and Russell, then of Tyler, who had reportedly thrown a fit when he heard that his father would be taking Emily to the tearoom party. She had heard him telling everyone at his table that his dad was too busy to have a sweetheart.
And then, just yesterday, on one of the rare occasions when Amelia was home for several hours, Amelia had raised another issue. “If Russell marries Emily, Bob’ll move out. He’ll put pressure on Grace to move in with him again.”
“Grace won’t move out.” Hannah had dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, but it hung there in the back of her mind, nagging at her. “And Tyler’s not the first child with a stepmother he started out disliking.”
14
Tyler
At seven A.M. on the morning following the party at the tearoom, nine-year-old Tyler let out a howl of pain that reached from his home into Grace’s bedroom at the moment her phone rang.
“Forgive me for waking you. I don’t know what to do with Tyler. He’s hysterical. Can you come over?” Bob’s voice was tight.
Instantly awake, Grace tossed three pillows behind her and sat up in her bed. As she listened to Bob, Grace began to unbutton the top of her purple-flowered pajamas. The small bone button came off in her hand, and she took comfort in fingering it, turning it over and over, feeling its smooth ridges as she tried to think how she could help.
“Russell brought Emily home last night,” Bob was saying. “Strolled up the walk holding hands, kissed right in front of Tyler. How was he supposed to feel? They haven’t prepared him.”
A thin slant of sunshine pierced the crack between the wood frame of her bedroom window and the closed mini blind and for a moment struck her eyes. Grace shifted to avoid the direct glare. “What happened?”
“Tyler started to cry, and next thing he ran his head like a battering ram into Russell. Emily almost fell. She was holding on to Russell’s arm. You can imagine how upset she was.”
“My God,” Grace said softly.
“Then Russell lost it. He spanked Tyler in front of Emily. Goddamned stupid thing to do. He’s an adult; Tyler’s a child.”
Grace felt empathy for Tyler and anger at Russell. Russell had been dating Emily for only a few months. She was to leave for Ocala again, and would be returning in three days. Grace and Bob had suggested to Russell, in the very beginning, that he bring Emily slowly into their lives, have a picnic, play games, take Tyler to McDonald’s, anything to further the boy’s contact with Emily. At the time, Russell kept insisting that Tyler wasn’t ready, and instead he was subjecting his son to this trial by fire. That made no sense. Perhaps, Grace thought, it’s Russell who isn’t ready to face Tyler’s reaction.
A solid, dependable man and devoted father, Russell had, under the influence of this wild, irrational love, lost all sense of rationality. Perfectly sensible people came unhinged under the chimera that was love’s insanity, and now, for a moment, as she listened to Bob, Grace recalled how she had gone absolutely nuts when, early on in their relationship, she thought that she had lost Bob to Amelia.
“I warned him,” Bob was say
ing. “I suggested we all go someplace, IHOP maybe, so Tyler could be with Emily under relaxed circumstances. But, no. And then last night Russell brings her home, and kisses her in front of Tyler.” Bob paused, and Grace knew he was fuming. “Tyler’s face. Damn it, Grace, you should have seen his little face.”
The tears in his voice tore at Grace’s heart. Her stomach tightened, and she pulled her knees snug against her chest with her free arm. In the silence on the phone she heard Bob trying to regain control.
“And then?” she asked softly.
‘Tyler was sent to bed. He cried for a long time. Russell took Emily home, and didn’t return until very late, so he and I haven’t talked. Damn it.”
“And this morning?”
“No change. Can you come?”
“Give me time to dress, grab a bite, and I’m on my way.”
“Drive carefully, honey.” Then he said, “You know this isn’t like Tyler. He doesn’t throw tantrums, doesn’t even argue.”
“That’s right,” she replied, “he withdraws. Like he did after Amy died.” She was out of bed, dressing even as she talked on the phone.
“What can we do?” Bob asked.
“Love him, listen to him.”
“We’ll reassure him we’re here for him. We’re not going anywhere,” Bob said.
Did Bob hear himself? Hadn’t he recently mentioned to her that if Russell and Emily married, he would feel obliged to move out? He had even suggested to Grace that she, and Amelia, and Hannah rent or sell him a small piece of their land up in the woods where he could build a cottage. Focused as she had been on the opening of the tearoom, and because she didn’t want to deal with it, Grace had not told Amelia and Hannah.
Grace ran a brush through her hair and grimaced at herself in the mirror. The brush was a birthday gift, last November 24, from Bob, and had a smooth, lovely tortoiseshell back and thick bristles. Her thoughts turned to Tyler, and the shock, and grief, and sense of betrayal, and pain he must be feeling. She loved the child, loved his red hair that wouldn’t lie flat, his blackberry eyes, his too-large ears, his high-pitched laughter, his firm arms flung about her when he hugged her. He was the grandson her own son, Roger, would never give her, and she considered herself blessed in loving Tyler.
The Gardens of Covington Page 11