"How's she know someone broke in?" Nickel asked.
"Uh—she found a pillow under her bushes in the back yard."
"Someone could of left it there from playing Santa Claus." Julia was most helpful.
"I hadn't thought of that." Orrie stopped.
"In May?" Nickel glanced at her mother. She felt Juts was up to something.
"Practice makes perfect," Julia shot back, unruffled.
"Well, Julia, I should be getting back to Knuckles. Time to feed him." Knuckles was Orrie's beautiful Akita dog, a sort of Japanese German shepherd.
"You keep me posted, Orrie. I'll call Louise right now to console her," Julia said.
"It was good to see you, Mrs. Mojo." Nickel put her hand under Orrie's elbow and helped her down the porch steps.
Orrie drove immediately over to Louise's.
"Well?" Louise stood quite still.
"Nothing."
"Did you look around the house?"
"Juts said there was a bad smell. I couldn't get in," Orrie reported.
"That sister of mine is behind this, I know it."
"Exactly what did she take?" Orrie couldn't figure out why Louise was so worked up if nothing was missing.
"Papers."
"Insurance, stuff like that?"
"Well..." Louise hedged. "Not exactly."
"Julia said she was going to call. Did she?"
"Yes. I hung up the phone as you came through the door. She was all concern, my baby sister."
"What are you going to do?" Orrie wondered.
"I'll have to see her myself or sneak through the house when she's not there. Let me think about it. Damn!" Louise then said rapidly to herself five "Hail Marys" to atone for swearing. Why trouble the priest at confession with such a little thing? He has enough on his mind.
October 17, 1939
Each year the volunteer firemen of South and North Runnymede threw a Harvest Moon Ball to celebrate themselves and to raise money. Both Chessy and Pearlie were volunteers for South Runnymede since they lived on the Maryland side. North Runny firemen were full of themselves because with the help of Julius and Napoleon Rife they had recently bought a fire truck with a seventy-five-foot ladder. Of course, the only thing in Runnymede that was seventy-five feet tall was the water tower. Odd years the ball went to the North; even, the South. Both sides helped decorate. No matter what the theme, the fire hall wound up choking in crepe paper, Indian corn and pumpkins. This year proved no exception.
Maizie primped for hours, stealing some of her older sister's nail polish. When Louise saw those painted nails the fur flew. Mary, a quiet girl, fussed for two solid hours over one curl on her forehead. She normally wore football socks, which were the rage for teen-age girls. For this special occasion she forswore her socks and squeezed her feet into pumps dyed to match her little gloves and dress. Extra Billy had told her he'd come to the ball, pay his dollar at the door and seek her out for a dance. Extra Billy thrilled her. He did not thrill Louise. However, because this was a public to-do, she didn't fear for her precious Mary.
Since Fannie Jump's Sans Souci remained so popular, Fannie showed up at events like the Harvest Moon Ball. Before going into business she had ignored such things, not because she disapproved but because the aristocracy didn't attend, although they donated money. She found she enjoyed mixing with people from different backgrounds. Now sixty-two, she was more alive and adventuresome than in her youth. She and Hans shared a table with Julia, Chessy, Louise and Pearlie. Mary, looking very grown up, danced with her father and made faces. Maizie cut in constantly to torment her. Pearlie, the center of all this attention, presented a dashing figure in his fireman's uniform. Cora sipped some cold October beer while waving at everyone.
"You know that Carlotta died this morning?" Fannie told the group.
Louise, fond of her teacher, choked back a tear and said she'd heard.
"The best part is what Celeste said." Fannie enjoyed retelling Celeste's ripostes as much as hearing them for the first time. "She said, 'Maybe now shell be happy. Carlotta always thought she was too good for this earth.'"
"Celeste was always heartless to her sainted sister," Louise replied.
"Now, now, Louise, she's being proper and not appearing in public. Don't be too hard on her. Those two never got along."
"Carlotta's the only person I know who'll feel guilty about resting in peace," Julia quipped, then she nudged Chessy. "Do you remember your lines?"
"I think so." Chessy, in charge of entertainment, feared he'd forget his part in the little skit they were doing.
"War memorial's full of used tires again." Fannie giggled.
"I wonder who's doing that," Louise asked. "Always happens before a big holiday or something patriotic."
"Rubber lasts longer than flowers and the tires are round as a wreath," Juts joked.
"Julia, memorials are serious business," Louise admonished. Pearlie tugged her to get her to the dance floor.
"Here comes Mary's boyfriend," Maizie sang in the taunting manner of a child.
"Don't be silly." Mary turned up her nose.
"The Gas Alley gang? I hope not. Those dumb bastards get sozzled straining Sterno through a cloth," Hans informed them.
Ev and Lionel, Orrie and Noe were at the adjoining table because the gang couldn't get a big enough table for all of them. Ev cupped her hand to her mouth. "Juts, some crowd, huh?"
"Yes, this is the best Harvest Moon ever, and wait until you see the entertainment. Chessy wrote a skit, you know—with help from Pearlie because the Yankee fellow got sick and none of the North boys would fill in."
"Cora, did you ever see such a crowd? No one will be awake tomorrow before noon." Fannie clinked glasses.
"Half of Runnymede is asleep by eleven. The rest never close their eyes." Cora kidded her since Fannie fell in the latter category.
Orrie bustled over to whisper in Juts' ear. "See Beulah Renshaw over there? She doesn't know old Ben's cheating on her with that Sweigart girl."
Julia quickly whispered right back: "Of course he's sleeping with Sweigart. Beulah didn't marry a pansy."
Extra Billy, already slightly looped, strode toward Mary, who valiantly pretended not to care.
"Hi, Mary."
"Oh, hello, Extra Billy. I didn't see you in this mob."
"Wanna dance?"
"Sure." Mary flew off her chair with amazing speed.
Louise, on the dance floor, saw her daughter with Extra. "Pearlie, I want you to get her away from him."
"Louise, leave her alone."
'That boy is no damn good."
"He's wild. At that age. He was sure good at stuffing potatoes up the exhaust pipes of Rife's buses." Pearlie spun his wife around.
"Be that as it may, you tell her after this dance, no more. You're her father."
"All right. All right. Let's finish the dance."
Back at the table Ev, Lionel, Noe and Orrie quickly shoved both tables together even though they weren't supposed to and chattered like blue jays.
"Lordie, over there's Patience's girl Dyslexia. I never will forget the time she blew her nose in church through her veil! Even stopped the preacher." Orrie roared at her own story.
"That's as bad as the time one of the Gas Alley boys put on the church tablet—yes, right out there in front of the Lutheran Church—'Jesus Saves. Moses Invests.'" Ev wrinkled her nose.
"Hi there, Bumba." Fannie waved to Bumba Duckworth. "Nice guy, but what an Old Glory."
"What?" Julia asked her, leaning over to hear her in all the noise.
"He's an Old Glory—so ugly you have to throw a flag over his head to fuck him," Fannie boomed.
Minta Mae Dexter passed by just as Fannie uttered that rude word. She stopped, for effect, stared, but before she could play the Puritan, Fannie quipped, "Why, Minta Mae, where's your flag? Don't tell me the Sisters of Gettysburg are falling down on the job!"
Furious, Minta stalked off.
The entire table exploded. Lou
ise, on the dance floor, scowled. She hated missing anything, especially if it would offend her.
Extra Billy dipped Mary. Maizie wriggled in her chair. Poised on the line between childhood and adolescence, she acted a baby one minute and grown up the next. The music ended. Bill kept Mary on the floor waiting for the next song. Louise chewed on Pearlie's ear the whole way back to the table. He seated his wife, then reluctantly walked out onto the dance floor.
"Honey, may I have this dance?"
"Oh, Daddy, no. Bill asked me first."
Stymied, Pearlie thought for a minute. "Save the next one for your old man. O.K.?"
Louise was twitching. Pearlie walked back to the table and told her to behave herself. He had the next dance.
Extra Billy liked Mary as much as he was capable of liking anybody. His boisterousness and innocent brutality arose from a combination of stupidity and the fact that he never, not once, stopped to think what it felt like to be in the other guy's shoes. Mary, to him, was high-class stuff. Gas Alley was as low as you could go in Runnymede. After the dance he properly escorted Mary back to the table. She introduced him to the throng. Then he rejoined his increasingly drunk companions. He threw down two quick belts to make up for lost time. After a fifteen-minute wait he again approached Mary. She desperately wanted to dance with him, but Louise sniffed at him and in so many words told him to get lost.
"Louise, let her dance," Juts recommended.
"I don't need your advice on raising my children. You don't even have children." Louise, angry anyway, took it out on Juts.
"Have it your way, sister." Julia decided to ignore her.
Extra Billy, now truly bombed, delighted his seedy companions by drinking a neat shot of whiskey, then putting a match to his tongue, breathing out the fire and quickly dousing it with a beer chaser. His dragon act received loud applause.
A drum roll alerted the audience that entertainment followed. North Runnymede's fire chief announced the sequence of events in a droning voice. The first act on the bill was a talent show, the talent provided generosity of the wives. Eva Skolowski warbled a hot version of "Anything Goes." Another wife danced on roller skates, to muted appreciation. Chessy and Pearlie sweated it out backstage. Their act was a satire on both fire departments, with different fellows playing the bigwigs. No one would get riled, as it was all in good fun. The little raised stage rumbled under the onslaught of Tessie Trenton's roller skates. Once she finally speeded into stage left, there was a moment's hesitation. A moment too long in this instance.
"Hey, I gotta talent." Extra clambered up on the platform. Blotto though he was, he stood up tall. Mary's eyes widened. Louise utilized this golden opportunity to embarrass her daughter by telling her what a drunken sot Bill Bitters was. Fannie, Juts and the rest of the group watched with their mouths open.
"What's going on out there, Pearlie?" Chessy adjusted his fake mustache.
"Extra Billy Bitters is on the goddamned stage."
"I didn't know he was in the talent show."
"He ain't," Pearlie told him.
"Yeah?" Chessy pulled back the curtain to see for himself. "Where's the chief? He's master of ceremonies."
The chief at that moment was ardently telling the roller skater that she had a great future ahead of her. After all, Ginger Rogers had appeared in a movie on roller skates. This compliment was interrupted by one of the North boys, giving him the bad news. The chief pulled down the bottom of his coat, puffed out his chest and started out on the stage.
"Chessy?"
"What?"
"I forgot my line." Pearlie looked stricken.
"Fire."
"Fire . . . fire . . . fire," Pearlie repeated to himself.
Extra Billy fended off the chief with one long arm. He was young, tall and strong. Chief Ackerman, replacing aged Lawrence Villcher, was short, middle-aged and of average strength.
"Watch this!" Bill yelled. He threw down a shot of whiskey, struck a safety match on his shoe, hopping on one foot to keep Ackerman at bay, then lit his tongue. Out poured a stream of fire. The crowd gasped. Extra Billy was just tall enough on the raised stage to be near the crepe paper. That quick the damn stuff caught fire.
"Fire," Pearlie repeated.
"There really is a fire." Chessy ran out on stage. Pearlie was one step behind. The pudgy-faced chief bellowed, "Fire! Women and children out first!"
Chessy knocked out a staggering Bill with one well-placed blow, threw him over his shoulder and ran backstage with him, tossing him out in the alley for safety. Pearlie made use of his line: "Fire."
All that thickly hung crepe paper blazed up by the rafters. The firemen kept their heads and the folks were herded out in an orderly fashion. That took a good seven or eight minutes. Chief Ackerman revved up the new fire truck with its seventy-five-foot ladder.
The truck was so damn long that he jackknifed it backing it around the corner so he could get close to the fire hydrant. Chessy, now outside with his wife and the rest of the family, appreciated the problem. "Pearlie, grab Doughtery. He's got the keys." Pearlie found their man. They raced for Chessy's car and tore down to the South Runnymede fire station. The small old engine coughed, then popped out of the station, Chessy at the wheel. They reached the North Runnymede firehouse in time to save half the roof. As the South boys collected their equipment, Chessy, in his fire helmet, clapped a sorrowing Chief Ackerman on the back. "Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, it's a great show."
Once all was said and done, Extra Billy had to help rebuild the roof during his free time. He didn't have a minute to sneak around and see Mary; the firemen worked his tail off. Louise breathed a sigh of relief. She figured that put an end to it.
March 1, 1940
Celeste, wisely deciding not to go to Europe, had stayed in Runnymede for the winter. Wrapped in a fabulous quilted silk maroon jacket with matching pants, she could have walked out of one of her brother's movies. Fannie Jump harumphed in her seat and picked up the deck of cards.
"Gin?" Fannie asked.
"You already reek of strong water," Celeste advised her.
"There are more old drunks than old doctors. I mean gin, as in cards."
"Sure. Before we get going, do you want any refreshment?" Celeste inquired.
"Cora, I could do with a tasty cup of tea," Fannie called to Cora, who happened by the room.
"You bet." Cora headed for the kitchen.
"Miss Europe this season?"
"Yes and no." Celeste kept a sharp eye on Fannie's dealing. Fannie dealt like a pro, off the bottom of the deck as fast as from the top. You had to watch her every minute.
"Nothing's happened since Poland. Maybe they'll all forget it and go home."
"No one's left their home but the Germans," Celeste replied.
"England and France declared war." Fannie sang "Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves."
"Will Britannia waive the rules?"
"What?" Fannie broke her dealer's concentration.
"Forget it. Dear, I wish you wouldn't wear pink. It makes you look like a sausage."
There was some truth to Celeste's criticism. Fannie peered down over her bulging chest. "Maybe I could wear black and yellow and look like a bumblebee."
Cora reappeared, carrying a tray full of tea, cakes and little sandwiches. She would arrange them once the game got hot. "Here, ladies."
"Thank you." Celeste smiled. She adored conspiracy.
"Yes, thanks loads, Cora." Fannie shoveled a tasty little cake into her mouth. "Maybe the Germans won't go home. The Nazis are powerful."
"Power is not a permanent substitute for skill." Celeste's nostrils flared.
"Guess poor Fairy had neither." Fannie studied her hand.
"I wonder if well ever know. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her at least once, or my brother, Spotts. If you truly love someone they're always with you."
"I think of Fairy, too. However, I never think of Creighton." Fannie sipped some tea. "I hope there isn't a war. All that
destruction and death so someone can sing a new national anthem."
"Mary Baker Eddy was responsible for more deaths than the Kaiser." A sly smile played on Celeste's face.
Fannie threw down a discard. "If they do get into a war they're nuts, all of them."
"Perhaps logic has gone the way of oil lamps, so few people seem to be using it these days."
Six of One Page 28