"Pulease, Louise." Juts rolled her eyes while drawing out the "please." "I remember when you made bathtub gin."
"I never did no such thing. Nickel, don't you listen to this. Not a word. You know how Juts likes to embroider stories. Yes, Juts, I will have a little refreshment if you put it in a glass kindly." A long sigh.
'I’ll get it." I went into the kitchen and could hear Louise boring into Mom. "So what if it's true? That don't mean you tell."
I came out with a tall frosted glass so passers-by couldn't guess the contents. "Here, Aunt Louise."
"Thank you, dear. You always had beautiful manners."
We three sat there for a quiet moment. Louise needed to recover her breath. She had parked the car a block away and snuck into the lilacs. The excitement of it had worn her out.
"Honey, it's nice to have you home."
"Thank you, Mother."
"If you had any sense of responsibility you'da never left your mother in the first place." Louise licked her lips to get the foam off.
"Aunt Wheeze, there are no colleges in Runnymede. I needed to educate myself."
"So you got a Ph.D. and can't get a steady job. A waste of time and money, it was."
"If I put my money in my head no one can ever take it from me."
"I'd rather have a new car myself," Louise smarted off.
Juts pounced. "Nickel bought me a new car, or did you forget already?"
"How can I forget? You roll down your window at stoplights and yell at total strangers, 'My daughter bought me this car!' " Louise was disgruntled that she had walked into that one. Why did she have to mention the word "car"?
"As I was saying, honey, it's nice to have you home."
"How long are you planning on staying?"
"I'm not sure. I want to talk that over with Mom."
"Before you go, I want to set the record straight about me being a 'religious nut,' as Juts puts it. You know I was sent to Immaculata Academy because I was very musical. Celeste Chalfonte, a good woman in her fashion, sent me there. Paid for it herself."
"I don't remember it being quite that way," Julia countered.
"What do you remember? You were six years old at the time. I was ten and very talented." Louise crossed her legs in order to look talented. She stuck her little finger out from the glass, too.
"Celeste sent you there because her sister, Carlotta, ran the school."
"That don't mean I wasn't talented."
"Well, no."
"I still play my organ that Pearlie bought me before he died. God bless him."
Uncle Pearlie died on Louise's seventy-fifth birthday, four years ago. Mom swore he did it out of revenge. Wheeze bossed her husband same as anybody else.
"That's wonderful that you kept up your playing, Aunt Louise."
"Thank you. It's about time I get a little appreciation around here."
"Play! All you do is switch on the banjo effect and strike a few chords." Juts devoured another pickled egg-
"Shut up, Julia. Me and Nickel was having a meaningful conversation. Like I was saying, Nickel, Celeste sent me to Immaculata Academy to study music. And it's true it was run by her sister, a very holy woman. When she died she sat bolt upright in her casket and made the sign of the cross. That's how all of Runnymede knew her for a saint"—she cast an eye at her nibbling sister—"in case they missed her glory whilst she lived."
"That ain't how I remember it." Julia took another slug of beer.
September 25, 1911
Runnymede sets smack on the Mason-Dixon line. Both Maryland and Pennsylvania state legislatures tried to get the town to become two separate towns since they already had to obey two different sets of state rules. But the inhabitants would have none of it Runnymede was Runnymede and the hell with both governments. The wisdom of 1865 prevented them i from seceding from the Union, but given the opportunity, the whole town would have jumped at it. True, they fought the War over and over again among themselves, but South or North, they were still Runnys. It's one thing to fight among your own kind. It's quite another to have some outsider come in and do it for you.
Runnys settled things their own way. For instance, Patience Horney was cracky. Everybody knew it. Once a doctor from Philadelphia tried to get the South Runnymede mayor to commit her, since Patience lived on the south side of town. John Gassner wouldn't do it. Then this big-city doctor goes to the north side mayor, Otto Tangerman, tells him how backward Southerners are and he should commit Patience. Otto eighty-sixed him. Patience talked out loud, very loud, about the planet Saturn and her visitors from there. She also talked about the Rife family, who owned the cannery and the munitions plant. Once she walked right up to the old boy himself, Cassius, and said, "You're a walleyed son-of-a-bitch." The town loved it I That was back in 1882. Now Patience wore a fright wig to cover up her bald spot. Both mayors put their heads together and got her a job sitting at the railway depot selling hot pretzels and chestnuts in winter and lemonade in summer. Patience jabbered a mile a minute there but she did no harm. She could see everyone's comings and goings and felt herself to be the middle of the world. That's how Runnymede did things. On that September day in 1911 Louise had no idea that she, too, was to put Runnymede to the test.
Louise and Julia sailed in through the back door of Celeste's, as they always did after school. Cora was in the kitchen making sandwiches. "Hey, darlin's!"
The children hugged their mother around the neck.
"Don't choke me, girls. Celeste needs fortification. She's in the middle of a hot card game."
"Juts and Ev Most had to sit in the corner today."
"Is that a fact?"
"You ain't in my class. How do you know?"
"Orrie Tadia told me," Louise announced.
"Orrie Tadia sucks green monkey dicks."
"Julia, don't let Celeste hear you say that. She'll use it at the next town meeting if she hears it." Cora laughed.
In the front room, Celeste peeped over her hand of cards with a conspiratorial look. Her partner, Fannie Jump Creighton, had had entirely too much to drink and was missing all Celeste's cues. Celeste had on a pearl-gray, trimmed in maroon, dress with a touch of silver at her ears and a single shining diamond on her hand. Celeste never overdid it. Fairy Thatcher flashed a rock on her left hand so big her left bicep developed as muscular as a weight lifter's. Not tipsy, she caught all of Celeste's bids and made the appropriate counter to Ramelle, her card partner for the afternoon. Celeste enjoyed winning more than losing. She did her best not to drum her fingers on the table. She even ignored Ramelle's knee pressing rhythmically into her own, which any other time would have offered her a spasm of delight.
"Cora, where are those sandwiches?"
"Coming, Queen Bee." Cora was not one to be ordered.
"Girls, do your sums."
When Cora left the kitchen, Juts turned to her sister. "You got a big mouth. You and Orrie Tadia."
"You and Ev Most is best friends. Leave me and Orrie alone."
"Orrie sniffs school seats when people get up."
"Ugh! She does not."
"She does. I saw her myself."
"She probably saw you do it first."
Julia hauled off to belt her one, but Louise ran down the back hall. Juts was in hot pursuit. "Tattle-tale, tattletale."
"Pee sniffer," Louise called out from ahead.
Celeste heard this last lovely phrase. So did Fannie Jump. "Girls, did I ever tell you about the time Brutus Rife suffered the humiliation of being urinated upon by Theodore Baumeister?"
Ramelle snapped her cards together. "Fannie Jump, honey, you pay attention to this game or Miss Celeste will do worse than that to you."
"Cora, I think we ought to rename your offspring France and Germany," Celeste said in her dry voice. Cora meanwhile had been arranging the sandwiches according to a code she and Celeste had worked out years before.
"Care for refreshment, Mrs. Thatcher?" Cora offered her the tray.
Celeste now knew Fa
iry held two aces. Cora's a brick, she thought to herself, and her mood improved despite Fannie Jump's wobbly state.
Juts and Louise penetrated deep into the servants' quarters. An abandoned upright greeted Louise as she rounded a comer.
"Juts, look." Louise leapt onto the seat.
Julia forgot her mission and sat down next to her sister.
"You hit these two black ones regular, one, two," Louise told her little sister.
Juts obeyed and Louise went on to play a melody she had heard in school. She had an ear for music. There she sat, legs straight out, her head bent down over the keys, and every once in a while she'd jerk up in happiness. Julia Ellen hit her two keys, one, two, one two, and rocked back and forth, delighted with the sounds.
"Darling, do I hear 'After the Ball Is Over'?" Ramelle asked Celeste.
Fannie Jump didn't wait for her hostess to answer. She launched into song, swinging her card hand. Ramelle and Fairy saw everything. Celeste just closed her hand in resignation and sang along with Fannie. Ramelle giggled and joined in. Fairy hit all the high notes for her part and motioned for Cora to sing along. The five women were soon as enraptured with themselves as Louise and Julia Ellen were with their sounds.
Louise tired of "After the Ball Is Over" and knocked out something patriotic.
"Celeste, dear, what we need here is a fife and drum," Fannie crooned.
Cora left the coded sandwiches and went off to fetch her girls.
Ramelle called out, "Bring them in, Cora. Let's hear them at the grand."
A gleaming grand shimmered in the corner, the black seat covered with a silken embroidered shawl Celeste had tossed on it for effect. Cora reentered the room, with Louise on one side and Julia Ellen on the other.
'To whom do we owe the honor of our applause?" Celeste asked. Cora whispered, "Which of you played the piano?" "Me!" they both replied. "I'd like an encore," Fannie Jump requested. "Come on, darlin's." Cora led them over to the grand.
Louise looked about. Juts clambered onto the seat and waited for her sister to direct. "Come on, Wheezie." Louise put her sister's fingers on the black keys and Juts started right in. Louise began her part of "After the Ball" and soon both girls forgot about the adults and were full of the sounds.
Ramelle slipped her arm through Celeste's. "Sweetheart, little Wheezie is adorable."
Fannie waltzed over to the piano, glass in hand, and picked up the tune again.
When Louise finished, Juts continued. An elbow in the ribs stopped her one, two, one, two.
"Very good, girls," Ramelle praised them.
Fairy Thatcher and Fannie applauded. Cora folded her arms over her chest and laughed. Juts clapped, too.
"How long have you been playing, Louise?" Celeste asked.
"Never."
"Cora, how long has this child been taking lessons?" Celeste readdressed the question to Cora.
"This is the first time I heard her play, same as you."
"Brava!" Fannie cheered. "Runnymede's own Mozart."
"Do you know how to read music?" Fairy asked Louise.
"She don't read too good anything," Julia Ellen volunteered.
"I do so," responded Louise.
Ramelle put her hand on Louise's shoulder, which made her feel very special but immobilized. "Is there a piano at school?"
"There's one in the big room, but the keys don't all work."
"Is that where you play?" Ramelle continued.
"When the big kids let me."
"And they wear green." Juts added this detail, which to her meant something.
"Hush, Julia, honey. People are talking to Louise."
"Does the teacher help you?" Ramelle still had her hand on Louise's shoulder.
"No."
"That's wonderful—she plays by ear," Fannie enthused.
"Miss Chalfonte, how come you got two pianos?" Louise wanted to know.
"One for myself and one for the servants."
"The last servant you had that was musical was Sylvanus Peaks. That was years ago. Besides, he played the banjo," Fannie said.
"Don't you think the piano gets lonesome?" Juts inquired.
'To the best of my knowledge, pianos don't display emotions," Celeste remarked. "I wish more humans would follow their example."
"Heartless," Fairy teased.
"What do you want with an old upright? Why don't you give it to Louise?" Fannie blundered on.
"Beggars mounted ride their horses to death," Celeste said, turning to Fannie.
"What?" Fannie was incredulous.
"I don't want no horse, Miss Chalfonte, but I'll take the piano." Louise got excited.
"I simply mean one can't bestow large and expensive objects on people who can't afford them."
"Celeste ..." Even Ramelle was surprised.
"What Her Highness means is give them an inch and they take a mile." Cora was getting mad. Since when had she asked for anything?
"Money shared makes love grow stronger, money given kills it dead." Celeste was sinking lower.
"Good Lord, a piano isn't money—not really," Fairy exploded.
"It's the principle behind it," Celeste held firm.
"Celeste, you're a generous woman. What's got into you?"
Fannie was amazed.
Ramelle was amazed, too, but she'd seen Celeste get her back up on a few other occasions and there was no talking to her then. At those times the incidents seemed equally as trifling. The less she said, the better. Since she lived with Celeste, she'd bear the brunt of her discontent if, in Celeste's mind, she publicly appeared to undermine her.
"If you're so concerned over Runnymede's Mozart, Fannie Jump Creighton, bestow upon her your piano."
"Don't be ridiculous, I only have one. You have two."
"What about you, Fairy? You can't even play scales."
"Celeste, you know perfectly well one can't have a drawing room without a piano."
"Hypocrites."
Louise and Juts were frozen at the piano. They didn't want to move, but they didn't want to stay, either.
"Celeste, it was my girl that asked for your upright, not me. This beggar don't ask nobody for nothing. I work for what I get. But you are carrying on so about something you don't even use ... I don't want to hear it." Cora looked level at Celeste. "Come on, children."
The two little ones shot off the bench, they were so glad to get out of that room. Cora walked out of the house and slammed the door behind her.
"My servants never talk to me like that," Fairy sniffed.
"Cora is more than a servant," Celeste said. "Now if you don't mind, I think I've had quite enough of the human race for one day."
Celeste propped herself up in bed and picked out Tacitus. Reading Latin calmed her. The order and clarity of the language soothed her plus there was not a soul to speak it and disturb the serenity she imparted to it. No babble of tongues, jarring accents or cursed slang; Celeste could sink into the past and master it Ramelle, long blond hair curling around her shoulders, opened the door to the bedroom. At twenty-seven, Ramelle was seven years Celeste's junior and felt it. The first time she entered Celeste's Georgian mansion she was awed by the priceless Orientals glowing on the floor, jewels tossed underfoot. The central hallway curled upward like a chambered nautilus. Room after room bespoke Celeste's wealth and imagination. Ramelle hadn't just opened the door to a house; she had opened the door to another world, Celeste's world. Celeste read in Greek, Latin, French and German. Her library overflowed with hand-bound volumes. A stack of books kept vigil by her bed, waiting their turn. Celeste Chalfonte was no ordinary woman. For that matter, neither was Cora. Ramelle loved Celeste and made love with her, but she always suspected that in some unspoken way Cora was more central to Celeste than she was. Cora's wisdom and endurance, her ability to find joy in the simplest of events, grounded Celeste. In her rarefied world such people didn't exist. If Celeste was blessed by great wealth, she was also cursed by it. It was her saving grace to recognize that. To Cora a
nd even little Louise and Julia Ellen, though Celeste had more money she was no different than they were. Celeste needed them. For all her wit and cool distance, she needed to be included in humanity. Cora included her as an equal.
"The best part of Tacitus is reading between the lines." Celeste looked up at Ramelle.
"I never did go for that dead stuff. I'll stick to modern novels."
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