House Party

by Patrick Dennis

  Betty Cannon looked determined and cheerful. She kept saying extra kind things to Paul and expressing an abnormally bright interest in his opinions about workable kitchens. Mrs. Ames moved like an automaton about the room. Once or twice she bumped into perfectly obvious objects. Once she had to sit down. Elly kept glancing at her mother with concern. At last Mrs. Ames rose and wobbled toward the back door. Elly put down her dish towel and followed.

  She found her mother standing on the service porch, looking blankly down on the bare lawn. It was just beginning to get dark.

  "Mother, darling," Elly whispered. "What's the matter?"

  "Nothing, dear. Be still. Don't let the others know. It's just that—well, that it's been such a confusing, exhausting, upsetting, perfectly beastly day. I . . ."

  "Mother, it's my fault, isn't it? I mean, the way I opened up on Bryan this afternoon. Darling, I'm so sorry! So awfully damned sorry. It was terrible for me, too—he's always been my favorite, and . . ." The tears welled up in Elly's eyes.

  "Yes, darling, that was the final straw." She held her daughter's hand and stroked it.

  "Mother, I'm sorry I said . . .”

  "No, darling, you had to do what you did. I know that. And it was better that you did it in front of me. But the terrible thing, Elly, is that every word you said about Bryan was true."

  "Oh, Mother," Elly said with false jocularity, "Bryan's not such a bad egg. I was just sore and shot off my . . ."

  "No, Elly, you were right. You know that you were right and I know and Bryan knows. That's the awful part of it, darling. If you'd just called him a—well, used some of the coarse words you have the unfortunate habit of using—well, then I'd have thought that it was only a family fight. But every word was true.

  "And it's not much fun for a mother to sit and listen to something like that without being morally able to contradict. I've worried so much about the rest of you—well, not you perhaps, except the way you go about falling off things and forgetting things—and so little about Bryan. Now I see that . . ."

  "Good evenin' ma'am," a hearty voice said. "Missis Clendenning said I was ta be here at igzackly nine a'clock. An' here I am, ma'am," he said, "five minutes early. Early by name an early by nature. My card, ma'am."

  "Who are you?" Elly said.

  "I'm to arrange for the pyrotechnic displays. My card, ma'am," he said, thrusting a grubby business card still closer.

  "The what?” Elly said.

  "He means fireworks, darling."

  "That's rightie, ma'am, and here I am, five minutes ahead of time. Aurora Borealis Gun Powder Co. 'Pyrotechnic Displays Un-limited,' Mordecai Early, Prezz. That's me."

  "Wait here," Elly said. "I'll get my aunt. Mother, you must take a rest." She pulled her mother back into the kitchen. "Come on, dear, I’ll get Aunt Violet. Paul can help you upstairs."

  "Oh, darling, no. I'll be . . ."

  "Paul!" Elly shouted. "I need you!”

  "Paul, really, not all the way upstairs. Just someplace fairly cool and private where I can rest for just a minute," Mrs. Ames said.

  "The morning room, Mother?" Paul asked.

  "No. No, not the morning room."

  "Maybe the terrace?"

  "Maybe the terrace, Paul," she said.

  "Mother," Paul said, "Do you think Betty Cannon would make a good daughter-in-law?"

  "Why, she'd make a wonderful daughter-in-law, she's a lovely girl, but I'm afraid she'd never be able to handle your brother Bryan."

  "I didn't mean for Bryan. I meant for me."

  "Paul! For you? Why, darling, at three o'clock this morning you were asking me about marrying Claire Devine! Really, child, I don't care how modern you are, you just can't fall in and out love that fast!"

  "I can fall out pretty fast," Paul said bluntly. "Besides, I'm not in love with Betty."

  "Then why do you want to . . ."

  "Because I'm going to be in love with her pretty soon. She's nice. I like her. She's got honesty and brains and sense and taste and . . ."

  "Yes, dear, she has all of those. She's lovely. But . . ."

  ''We're going to work together. We've got it all planned. We're going to use her bookshop as my office and she's going to . . ."

  "Paul. Wait! Let me get my breath."

  "Now listen, Mother, I've got it all figured out. First I'm going to get hold of some land and then . . ."

  "Oh! Eleanor, it's you," Violet shrieked. "You gave me such a turn! Really, child, I never dreamed you'd be coming in here and . . ."

  "Well, I never dreamed I'd find you here, necking in the dark."

  "Oooh! Elly! You little minx!" Violet giggled.

  General Cannon cleared his throat uneasily.

  "A Mr. Early is here from the fireworks company."

  "Oh, heavens! Almost dark and almost time to start the big surprise. Now, Walter, you wait right here. I'll be back! Elly, do be an angel and run tell Nanny to get the children up. I made her give them extra-long naps and then put them to bed extra early just so they could get up and come down to watch. Don't run away, Walter!"

  "No, Vi'let," the general groaned.

  Felicia stirred languidly on the grass and pushed slightly away from Manning. He certainly knew how to kiss, even if the whole operation was as carefully staged as the Radio City Easter pageant.

  "Oh, my darling," he murmured, "to think of being away with you—just the two of us. Venice perhaps, or the Mediterranean,"

  "Oh, Manning," Felicia breathed. She found amorous dialogue so much simpler if it could be confined to a meager series of grunts and groans or the calling of a name—as long as it was the correct name, "But Manning, my love, you've got to get things squared away with Kathy. Shell blame me if she . . ."

  "But, darling, there's nothing to square away. Kathy and I are just good friends. There was no word mentioned about . . ."

  "Even so, Manning, Kathy is my cousin. I could never forgive myself if she even suspected that I had stolen you from her. Now just go to her and help to cheer her up. She'll be in the kitchen. Just say a few words to her."

  "Oh, veddy well," Manning said, getting up and brushing bits of grass off his suit.

  "Then come right back, I'll be waiting " Felicia lied.

  "Righto, darling." Manning moved slowly toward the house. There were very few scenes involving females which he did not revel in playing, but he didn't like the idea of facing Kathy now. She had shown too many facets this weekend for Manning to be at all sure of what he might expect. A tearful Kathy, a pleading Kathy, a hysterical Kathy, a suicidal Kathy—any of these Kathys would be very hard to take, indeed.

  The kitchen was practically set to rights. Nanny had gone to rouse the children, Sturgis to fetch Fang, so that the dog, too, might enjoy the fireworks. John and Joe were putting up chairs on the lawn, down near the water so that the guests could view the fireworks in comfort, while Elly and Betty Cannon were wheeling a rickety cart, precariously loaded with bottles and glasses, to the garden.

  Kathy was left alone in the kitchen, ritualistically swabbing out the sink. She was surprised and a little bit annoyed to find herself humming. Really, she thought, I ought to be a bit more heartsick. Then she heard the pantry door swing closed and there stood Manning.

  "Kathy!" he said.

  "Hello, Manning. Enjoy your dinner?"

  "It was delicious, uh, darling."

  "Good. I'm so glad you were able to tuck into one of my meals. Sort of a Last Supper, wouldn't you say?"

  ''What's that?"

  "Nothing."

  "You know, Kathy, it's been great fun knaowing you."

  "Oh, and Manning, it's been divine knowing you. An education in itself."

  There was something in the timbre of this conversation that made Manning uneasy.

  "Yes, I'll always think of you, Kathy."

  "I'll always think of you, too, Manning."

  "I say, you should have given me a chance to help you dry dishes or something. I'm a great little household help
."

  "I'll bet you are."

  "Now I come out to lend a hand and I find that somehow—poof—miraculously you're all washed up."

  "That's right, Manning, all washed up."

  "Well, isn't there something—some little chore—I could do?"

  "No, Manning. There isn't a . . ." Kathy paused. "Yes, Manning, there is something you could do."

  "What's that, darling?"

  "You could help me take the garbage down."

  "Garbage?"

  "Yes, Manning, you know, table scraps, coffee grounds, melon rinds, that sort of thing. It's an awfully big pail."

  Manning shuddered. "Why, not at all. Certainly, darling, just tell me what to do."

  "Oh, it's nothing complicated. It's just that the pail is so heavy. All that has to be done with it is take it down the kitchen steps to the service yard. Here, you just stand down there and I'll hand it down to you."

  "Aoh, rightao, darling. It'll be a pleasure," He skipped down the steps.

  "It will," Kathy said. Using all of her strength, she dragged the heavy garbage pail across the kitchen floor to the back door. Looking down into the darkness she could see the white glimmer of Manning's teeth, the snowy bosom of his shirt.

  "All ready, darling?" she asked.

  "Heave-ho, darling," Manning said.

  "Rightao!" Kathy said. She inverted the garbage pail and listened as the last of its contents smothered her former flame. Then she let the overturned pail fall. It was a perfect shot. Like an out-sized hat, the rank old garbage pail sat on Manning's head, enveloping him to the waist.

  "Kathy!" His voice came strangulated and resonant from within the garbage pail.

  "Goodbye, Manning, dear," Kathy said gaily. Then smoothing the front of her dress she skipped happily out of the kitchen.

  ". . . yes, Paul dear," Mrs. Ames sighed, "I do see what you're trying to do. I don't know beans about architecture, but I can see that it's a good idea. I can also see why Claire didn't think it was an attractive notion. And I’ll do my best to help you, really I will. I'll start talking to the lawyers just as soon as they re-open, Tuesday morning. I can find the money someplace. I could even mortgage this house."

  "Oh, Mother, not . . ."

  "It would be my pleasure, Paul. As for Betty Cannon, well you know how I feel about her. But, darling, please, go to her now. Mother's terribly tired."

  "Mother, I can't begin to thank . . .”

  "Don't try, dear. Now scoot!" Mrs. Ames leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for how long she didn't know. She opened them with a little gasp and saw a lighted cigar before her.

  "Lovely lady," the general whimpered. "Lily. How could you?"

  "How could I what?"

  "Lily, I didn't mean that note for Vi'let, I meant it for you!"

  "Note?"

  "Lily, it was so dark, an' she was wearin’ the same kind of coat and scarf. Well, Lily, I ast her to marry me an thought it was you. An' then she said yes and then it got a little lighter—Lily, I don't see so good—and then I realized it was Vi'let an' . . ."

  "Congratulations, General Cannon. I hope you two will be . . ."

  "Lily! You can't! You can't treat nobody this way. Lily, that woman won't give me a moment's peace and quiet. Lily, I'm not a young man. Lily, that woman's all over me. She's like an octopus.

  She . . ."

  "Gen-er-al Cannon," Mrs. Ames said, trying valiantly to suppress a wild outburst. "Remember, you're speaking of my sister!"

  "But, Lily, it's you I want. It's always been . . ."

  "General, to think that . . ."

  "Call me Walter, Lily, please."

  "General Cannon, to think that you would expect me to do anything so base as to step between my sister—my baby sister—and the man she loves!"

  "Lily, I'll kill myself. I'll . . ."

  "Yoo hoo! Yoo hoo!" Violet called from the distance.

  "Oh, Gawd, she's after me again!"

  "Yoo hoo! Lily, Walter! Come! Time for the fireworks to begin!”

  28: Fireworks

  The house party, seated in two ragged semi-circles on the lawn, looked strange and unearthly in the light of the red flares which Mr. Early had embedded in the grass. Robin and Emily ran noisily among the guests brandishing sparklers above their heads and fifty yards away, between the audience and the house, Mr. Early's two assistants were setting up standards for some of the ground effects.

  "There's a big pyrotechnics display at the Republican Rally over to Timber Point, tonight," Mr. Early was explaining to anyone who would listen. "I got the contrack for that show, too, but I sent my brothern-law. I always prefers a private party—seems so much more refined-like. Oh, I kin tell you, Aurora Borealis has handled some big shows—mighty big shows—in its day. Don't seem like there is many private affairs nowadays calling for really refined pyrotechnics. Why, I remember . . . Oh, there you are, Missis Clendennin'."

  "Yes, Mr. Early," Violet giggled. She clutched her little mink cape around her and tripped prettily to his side.

  "Now Missis Clendennin', you just tell me how you want the program-me ta run. We kin start out with rockets, or we kin commence with the Cather'n Wheels, or we could have the Ni'g'ra Falls—personally I always feel the falls is nicer for the later effecks—or we kin intry-sperse the effects anyway you like."

  "Well, now, let's see. Your attention, everyone!" Violet called. "Has anyone any preference as to what effects we see first?"

  No one had.

  "Then, Mr. Early, I think we'll begin with some rockets from back behind the house—but not all of them. Then some Catherine Wheels out here in front of the house. Then some more rockets. Then the Niagara Falls. And finally the golden eagle."

  "Very suitable choice, mam. That-there eagle is a lovely effeck for the gran' fi-nail. It's one I an' my brothern-law developed ouselffs. The wings flap just as realistic! You 'bout ready?"

  "Very well, Mr. Early. You may begin. All right, everybody, we're ready! This is to be my little treat for the Fourth. Come Robin, Emily! Come darlings, you sit right here by Granny—Granny and Uncle Walter."

  General Cannon shuddered and moaned softly.

  "Zut! But can I ever forget the glorious display of fireworks at Deauville on the night before the war—this recent unpleasantness—broke out," Uncle Ned said to Claire. "I was there with Teddy and Sascha and Nada and Aga and Aly and . . ."

  Whisssssssshh! Boom! The first rocket was released and a glory of golden light burst high above the house. Robin and Emily squealed ecstatically. Whisssssssssh! Boom! Balls of fire in pink and green, in white and mauve, fell from the skies, flickering slowly out as they descended.

  Whisssssssssh! Boom! A scarlet comet streaked across the night and landed far out in the Sound.

  "Isn't it divine, darlings! Isn't this fun?" Violet said squeezing her grandchildren. "Just the way it was when I was a little girl. We're even going to have the old peacock effect."

  Money to burn, Manning said grimly to himself, sidling into the garden. Money to burn. He would have liked to have changed from the skin out, but the thought of spending one unnecessary second away from Felicia had urged him to clean himself off as best he could and hurry to her side.

  Felicia was beginning to get over her anger. She'd certainly fixed Kathy all right. She tried to see Kathy's face. It didn't seem unusual, somehow; almost serene, if anything. Well, Felicia had to hand it—albeit grudgingly—to her cousin. She certainly had control! Whisssssh! Boom! Felicia, bored sick by the fireworks, was conscious of someone stealing into the empty seat next to her. By the pink light of the rocket she saw that it was Manning. Her nostrils quivered.

  There was an odor, a most unpleasant odor. She sniffed delicately again. She knew that the Sound could sometimes smell of old fish, but this . . . She inclined her head slightly toward Manning. The odor grew stronger. Really, she'd read ads for all those manly scents and colognes—silly names like Male, Him, Stallion, Virility—but whatever Manning was wearing w
as just a little too gamey. Then the blue fire burst into red fire. Then the red fire into white. In the brightness, Felicia saw John Burgess' arm slip around Kathy and then, to her horror, she saw Kathy rest her head on his shoulder. Felicia stiffened. Manning's hand sought hers and she snatched it away. "Don't!" she said sharply.

  Whissssssssssssh! Boom! Bronze and silver stars soared and fell. Then there was a flash of white and a tiny American flag fluttered down into the garden. Little Robin rushed, screaming with joy, to retrieve it. Emily took it away from him. There were tears.

  Mrs. Ames stifled a yawn. Fireworks were a terrible bore. The noise was startling, the light distracting, and she knew she'd spend the next week picking bits and pieces of the debris off the lawn.

  ". . . and then I recall the time in '93 when a jolly bunch of us went out to Chicago to see the Columbian Exposition. What fireworks they had there!" Uncle Ned was saying. "I fully expected to see buffalo and Indians in the streets but it was quite civilized and the old Auditorium Hotel was . . ." Whissssssh! Boom! Fang cowered beneath Uncle Ned's chair, terrified by the noise.

  Standing next to Nanny, at a respectful distance behind the crowd, Sturgis shifted his weight painfully from one foot to the other. He did wish that silly Miss Violet wouldn't be so democratic and insist that the staff come out to enjoy these treats. Red and green balls of light hung suspended for a moment in the sky and then fell. He didn't need to see them. He had spots before his eyes every day of the year.

  "Nothing like the fireworks at the Diamond Jubilee when I was in service to Lady Dreerilea," Nanny sniffed.