by Lyn Cote
In school, Thea had learned about a Greek battle where the Greeks had won the battle, but at the cost of their whole army. Thea’s experience had taught her that was the only kind of victory anyone ever achieved over Grandmother. What would Thea’s openly backing Peter push her grandmother to do? Fear trickled through her like ice water. Could Grandmother have hired someone to spraypaint the sign and puncture the canoes—or perhaps she’d only egged Mr. Crandon on?
Pushing these chilling thoughts out of her mind, she walked to the phone and dialed. “Hello, Mrs. Chiverton, would you like a ride to the organ meeting today? I plan to stop and visit Grandmother on the way. Okay, I’ll pick you up in about an hour.” There. That much she’d accomplished.
She’d made a promise to herself that day she’d introduced Mrs. Chiverton to the Dellas to be kinder to the elderly woman. Also, she couldn’t get past her grandmother’s nasty appraisal of her lifelong friend—“Louella was born a fool.”
Thea had begun recalling little kindnesses Mrs. Chiverton had shown her when she’d been a lonely, motherless child. Little souvenirs brought back from trips. Thea’s favorite cookies baked just because she would be visiting with Grandmother. Thea hoped Mrs. Chiverton would never find out what her “beloved” Althea said behind her back.
Carrying a paper bag filled with her grandmother’s special linens, Thea walked into the care center beside Mrs. Chiverton. She felt like she’d entered enemycontrolled territory.
“It was so sweet of you to stop and pick me up, Thea.”
Thea couldn’t get over how much offering Mrs. Chiverton a ride had pleased the little woman. It made Thea glad she’d taken time for the small favor.
In her chirpy voice, Mrs. Chiverton asked, “Dear, do you think your grandmother will ever move back to the lake?”
Thea had thought this over at length. She now realized her grandmother could have remained home after her stroke. She’d really gone to the care center to hide from people. Grandmother deemed being partially paralyzed as a position of weakness, something to be ashamed of. Thea hadn’t realized this fully until she’d heard her grandmother’s words the night of the county board meeting. And let everyone gloat over me? Never!
“No, I don’t think so,” Thea answered simply.
“I guess not.” Mrs. Chiverton tsk-tsked.
They walked into Grandmother’s room. Startled, Mr. Crandon looked up from where he sat beside her grandmother.
“Hello, Mr. Crandon,” Thea said quietly.
He stood; guilt plain on his face. Obviously Thea had interrupted a plotting session.
Mrs. Chiverton fluttered over to her friend. “Althea, Thea brought me in for the organ committee meeting and we had time to stop here first.”
“Louella, Dick and I are in conference,” Grandmother snapped.
Thea braced herself. She wanted to see Mr. Crandon’s reaction in person to the latest vandalism. “Have you heard what happened last night at the camp?”
“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Chiverton said with genuine dismay. “Someone wrecked canoes at the camp. Isn’t that terrible?”
“When is that Della going to give up?” Mr. Crandon asked.
“But, Dick, this is awful!” Mrs. Chiverton surprised Thea by speaking up. “I don’t like the idea of the camp changing, but I don’t think anyone should go around destroying private property. And I know you don’t approve of anything like that.”
Thea couldn’t have said it better herself. She silently promised to take Mrs. Chiverton to lunch after the organ meeting.
“Of course, I don’t approve of destruction of personal property,” Mr. Crandon blustered. “But I’m not surprised someone is taking the law into his own hands. Della isn’t going to win. My petition to change the camp’s zoning to private residential property will put an end to all this.”
Thea didn’t reply, but walked over to her grandmother. Grandmother preferred sleeping in sheets that held the scent of fresh, summer wind, so Thea always laundered and line-dried her grandmother’s bedding in the warm weather. “I brought your linens.”
“Set them on the bed.” Her grandmother wouldn’t look at her.
Thea put the bag on the bed, startled by her grandmother’s unusually rude behavior.
“Maybe we should be getting on to the meeting?” Mrs. Chiverton suggested timidly.
Thea nodded with her spirits sinking. If only the final organ meeting would end with an amicable decision. Or in this contentious summer, would it be one more battle royal?
Chapter Ten
Mrs. Chiverton had become less talkative after their visit to the care center, Thea noticed. As they walked into the church for the organ committee meeting the older woman fell uncharacteristically silent. But so many of the givens in Thea’s own life had shifted over the past two months, maybe Mrs. Chiverton was experiencing the same kind of unsettled feelings.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Nan Johnson, looking carefree without one of her twins on her lap, sat at the kitchen table. Wearing a denim dress, Vickie was making lemonade. A plate of chocolate chip cookies with large walnut chunks decorated the center of the table.
“Hi, Thea and Mrs. Chiverton,” the two young women greeted them in unison, then giggled at doing so.
“Who baked the cookies?” Thea asked, sitting down at the head of the table.
“Tracy did.” Nan smiled proudly.
“What a smart little girl!” Mrs. Chiverton sat to Thea’s right.
“Who’d like a glass of freshly-squeezed lemonade?” Vickie asked.
Everyone accepted. As Thea took her first tart sip, the ice clinked cheerfully.
Mrs. Magill lumbered in. “Let’s get started.”
The other ladies smiled at Thea, but put down their glasses. Unruffled, Thea bowed her head. “Father, thank You for this church. Be with us today. Help us to come to the correct recommendation for the church on the organ. Amen.”
Calmly Thea looked up at the ladies around the table. Recalling her fears at their first meeting in April made her realize her confidence had grown. Mrs. Chiverton would probably follow Grandmother Lowell’s orders to press for the repair of the present organ, a gift from Thea’s greatgrandfather to the church. Would the committee be able to avoid hurt feelings if the majority backed a new organ? That concerned her now. Thea hadn’t been prepared to chair this committee originally, but she was ready today.
Businesslike, Thea looked to Mrs. Magill. “What did you find out about the price of a new pipe organ?”
“One that would fit this church would cost around twenty thousand.”
“That much?” Vickie selected the largest cookie on the plate and grinned sheepishly.
“But we might not need a new one,” Mrs. Chiverton ventured.
Mrs. Magill harumphed and scowled across at the other senior lady.
Thea intervened, “That was the median price?”
Mrs. Magill nodded.
“Nan, what did you find out about the prices of electronic organs?” The fragrance of butter and chocolate chips proved irresistible. Thea reached for a cookie, too.
“There’s quite a range. I spoke to a music shop in Duluth. I described our church and our needs and they suggested one which ran eighteen thousand.”
“Is that the only store you checked?” Mrs. Magill demanded.
Vickie spoke up, “I called stores in Milwaukee and Minneapolis, too. Their prices were comparable.”
After a sip of lemonade, Nan looked at Thea. “What did you find out about repairs on the existing organ, Thea?”
Thea cleared her throat. “You know that our organ suffers from a ‘cipher,’ that is, every time I turn it on, one note repeats and repeats. The repairs would be costly and we’d have a long wait for the repairman to get around to us.”
Mrs. Magill harumphed again. “So that means a new organ?”
Thea noticed Mrs. Chiverton frowning. Would her grandmother’s devoted friend start in now giving Grandmother’s ideas? Thea munched her cookie, prayi
ng silently for God to calm the spirits of the women around her.
A noticeable silence passed during which Mrs. Chiverton’s face became more troubled. Nan asked softly, “Is anything wrong, Mrs. Chiverton?”
“Yes, I want to know why you have to be so gruff, Lilly?” Mrs. Chiverton glanced at Mrs. Magill, then, looked away as though struggling with her distress.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Lilly growled.
Mrs. Chiverton made characteristic fluttery gestures with her hands. “All this trouble over Peter’s camp. Molly barking at all hours. Vandalism. Now destroying private property! It’s so unnecessary, violent…I’m worried. What if someone gets hurt?”
Thea expected Mrs. Magill to begin arguing with Mrs. Chiverton. She glanced in the large woman’s direction. Mrs. Magill looked thoughtful. “I’m worried about Dick,” she muttered. “It’s like he can’t think of anything, but stopping the camp.”
“And Althea,” Mrs. Chiverton put in, beginning to sound shrill, “she can’t find a kind word to say about anyone any more. She’s gotten more cross every time I’ve visited her. And I’ve found Dick there several times with her.”
Mrs. Magill snorted. “They’ve never been able to stand each other.”
“That’s what’s so worrisome.” Trembling, Mrs. Chiverton shook her head, making her dangling earrings dance. She opened her purse and pulled out a ruffled lavender hanky.
Looking amazed, Vickie asked, “You don’t think they’re behind what’s been happening at the camp, do you?”
Mrs. Chiverton burst into tears. “I’m so afraid.”
That night Thea reclined in her favorite antique wicker chaise on her screened-in porch overlooking the lake. Warm breezes. No commotion at the camp. Thea had watched the sun set in streamers of brilliant gold, pink and violet across the sky, then hadn’t bothered to turn on a light. By the glow of the yard lights at the camp, she could make out the silhouettes of the tall pines and maples around her home. The white birches, picking up the light, stood like pale sentinels. On Thea’s lap, Tomcat snoozed. Sleepy herself, Thea wished she felt as contented as his purring sounded.
Long after this morning’s organ meeting she’d worried about Mrs. Chiverton’s bursting into tears. Could the older woman be correct? Were her grandmother and Mr. Crandon using criminal tactics against the camp? But how?
All the excitement last evening, the discovery of more vandalism had ruined her peace. In the past four years, Thea had become used to a quiet, single life. This summer, only two weeks old, had shattered her neatly planned solitude. Before long, Cynda and Thad would return by boat from waterskiing with friends. She’d grown to enjoy having Cynda in the house, but a few hours of quiet…What a blessing.
She closed her eyes and napped. The lake breeze brought voices up to her. At first, still half dozing, she didn’t focus on whose voices they were. Then she heard Cynda’s voice clearly, “Don’t say that, Thad! You can’t be one of those dumb people from town!”
Thea roused herself and looked around, disoriented. Then she realized Cynda and Thad must be outside down near the dock.
“You don’t know anything about it,” Thad said sharply. “You just got here.”
Cynda’s disembodied voice replied clearly, “I know Irene and Aldo are great. And Peter’s cool, too. I can’t understand what the big deal is.”
Thea felt guilty eavesdropping, but was so drowsy she couldn’t rouse herself enough to move yet.
Thad complained, “The big deal is we don’t want some big shot out of Milwaukee telling us how to do things. Peter Della makes me sick.”
Cynda said, “Peter isn’t telling anyone what to do. He just wants to run his camp.”
“He’s trying to change everything. And I’m sick of my mom nagging me about me getting a job there. I don’t want to be a role model to kids.”
Frowning deeply, Thea thought about Vickie’s illconceived efforts to push Thad into involvement with the camp. Since his father’s leaving his family, Thad needed a role model himself. Why didn’t Vickie see how Thad was hurting?
“That’s between you and your mom. My mom drives me crazy, too. But I’m working at the camp. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“No. You live right next door. What choice do you have without a car?” Thad pointed out.
“I’m worried though. Irene got a poison pen letter in the mail today.”
“A poison pen letter? From who?” Thad sounded as shocked as Thea felt.
“People don’t usually sign them.” Cynda sounded disgusted. “Irene wouldn’t let me read it, so it must have been pretty bad.”
“Peter Della started this. If he hadn’t, nobody would be sending nasty letters to his mom.” The rest of Thad’s reply was covered up by a rapid knocking at Thea’s door.
“Thea!” Peter called in.
Afraid Cynda might see her if she stood up and think she’d been eavesdropping on purpose, Thea rolled off the chaise and crawled through the open French doors into the living room.
“Thea!” Peter repeated.
“I’m here, Peter.” Thea stood and hurried breathlessly through the darkened house to open the door for him.
“Hi, I brought dessert,” Peter announced. “Mom made strawberry shortcake with real whipped cream.” He held out a plastic-covered, glass pie plate, heaped with red strawberries and white puffs of cream.
“In that case, you may come in.” Instantly aware of Peter, Thea stepped aside with a gracious gesture. How did he convey his own vitality to her just by coming near?
He walked in and looked around. “Saving on electricity?”
Taking a few steps back, Thea switched on a lamp just inside the living room, to illuminate the kitchen indirectly. “I don’t like a lot of lighting on summer evenings. It’s too hot, too bright” And dim lighting would conceal her uneasy consciousness of Peter.
“Besides you look lovely in pale light”
Thea wanted to believe his flattering words, but some uncertainty inside her made her draw back. She didn’t know what to say, so she made herself busy getting out two gilt-edged china dessert plates, two settings of silver, and two white linen napkins. She motioned for him to take his chair.
“First class tonight?” Peter sat down.
Thea made her voice light, though Cynda’s words about poison pen letters pulled at her spirits. “Something tells me your mother’s shortcake merits china and silver.” She arranged a set in front of Peter and one across from him for herself. Knowing his gaze followed her every motion made her intensely conscious of the smooth coolness of the silver and china, the texture of the starched linen.
She served a generous helping on each plate, then sat across from him. The dessert tempted, but her stomach tightened. Why couldn’t all the pressure they were under just stop? Why couldn’t she and Peter just enjoy getting to know each other?
Ignoring all these conflicting feelings, she took her first bite. She closed her eyes and savored the flavor of strawberries, rich whipped cream, and flaky shortcake. “Heavenly. If your mother keeps tempting me like this, I won’t fit into any of my fall skirts.”
“You don’t have a thing to worry about, as far as I can see,” Peter said appreciatively. He dug his ornate silver fork deep into his whipped cream. “Mmm.”
To keep the conversation light, she volunteered, “I should show your mother a large patch of wild strawberries. We could pick some together this week.”
“Sounds like a good way for me to relax next weekend. Just you and me picking strawberries.” The richness of his deep voice brought sensation cascading through her.
Thea hesitated. “We’ll see. You worked nonstop today.”
He snared her free hand with his. “If I weren’t so busy, I’d be here pursuing you more diligently.”
Accepting his touch, she let her hand memorize the feel of his—its warmth, strength, work-roughened texture. Thea blushed and was glad of the low light. Peter, is this just your natural ebullience
or are you really interested in me?
Thea toyed with her fork in the whipped cream,
Cynda and Thad barged through the back door. “Hey! Dessert! Any for us?” Cynda reached for the refrigerator door. “I’m starved! Waterskiing gives me an appetite!”
Releasing Thea’s hand, Peter rolled his eyes. “Go next door, Cynda. Mom has plenty.”
“Great!” Cynda whooped. “Let’s go next door, Thad.”
Thad looked like he’d rather drink sour milk, but all he said was, “I gotta go home. You know how my mom is. I have to be right on time or I’m grounded.” Then he turned to leave.
Molly raced in through her hatch and began barking at Thad’s feet. Thea leaped up. Pulling on her dog’s collar, she scolded, “Quiet. Molly!” The dog stopped barking, but looked disgruntled at Thea’s interference. “Sorry, Thad. I guess she doesn’t recognize you without your mother and brother along.”
Thad shrugged. “See you tomorrow, Cynda.”
Almost immediately the noise of Thad driving away assaulted Thea’s ear. Discordant sounds always affected her.
Cynda stopped to grin impishly over her shoulder at Thea. “I’m going over to see Irene, so that means, Peter,” she paused as though looking at an invisible wristwatch, “you have about a half hour alone with Thea before I get back.”
Letting out a low groan, Thea lowered her head into her hand.
Peter chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. I know how kids tease. Especially at Cynda’s age.”
To change the subject, Thea asked, “Did you get the canoes fixed?”
“Mr. Willoughby is working on them.” He paused. “But today when I took my tire in to be fixed at Ed’s Garage, I did get some bad news.” His lingering gaze warmed her in spite of the unromantic conversation.
“Couldn’t Ed fix it?” Thea took a bite of strawberry. Its sweet juice rolled over her tongue.
“Ed said the tire had been cut.”
“Cut?” She stopped with her fork in midair. “But wouldn’t it just go flat then?”
“No, because the cut didn’t go all the way through. You see, that way the tire would blow on the road.”