by Joyce Magnin
"Fat," Ivy said. "Griselda's sister is . . . large."
"That's not a problem. We have dresses for plus-size women."
"More like quadruple plus," I said.
"Triple X?" Mavis said. "Still . . . I—"
"Larger than that," Ivy said. "Have you ever heard about Agnes Sparrow?"
Mavis swallowed. "You mean the woman that was supposed to do all them miracles? I heard about her last year sometime, on that Rassie Harper show."
"That's her."
"My, my," Mavis said. "I never dressed a celebrity before. Maybe she should come in and—"
"She's not a celebrity, and she can't just come in." By then I was annoyed and just wanted to pay for my dress and leave. "It's OK," I said. "We'll figure something out."
"No, no," Mavis said. "Look, maybe I can bring a few things to her and—"
I shook my head. "That won't work either."
"OK, but let me know if I can help. Should we ring this up?" She took my dress and walked toward the cash register. I paid cash for the dress and Mavis wrapped it in a clear bag, which she zipped along the bottom.
"Now be sure and make that appointment downstairs, basement level, with the beauty parlor before you leave today. And don't forget about shoes. A pair of open-toe sandals would work well with this."
"Thank you," I said. "You've been very helpful."
Ivy and I walked through the dress department to the escalator.
"Maybe I should make that appointment, except I don't know for which day."
Ivy shook her head. "I suggest you get that straight. Then make the appointment. And then worry about Agnes."
When we got to the bottom of the escalator, Ivy said, "What are you going to do about Agnes?" as though the problem had just dawned on her. "How will she get to the church?"
"We're not getting married in the church." We walked toward the exit, right past the women's shoes. I'd worry about that later.
"No? Where?"
"Greenbrier. In the gazebo."
Ivy laughed. "Oh, you can't be serious. It's cold, especially out there. The wind whips around like a mad man."
"We'll make it work. Just the ceremony in the gazebo and the reception in the Sunshine Room out there. Folks can wait in there if they don't want to sit out in the cold. God is out there in the wind too. Not just at church."
"OK, OK. You made your point. It's fine with me. Not my wedding."
"My biggest problem is getting a dress for Agnes to wear."
"I'd talk to Ruth. She can sew anything."
"I had already thought about that, but you know how she can get. She's already sewing all the pageant costumes."
"Oh, right, well, she'll be done with them soon. The pageant is next Sunday. Did they ever get a Mary?"
"I suggested Mercy Lincoln."
"The little girl from the backwoods? She'd be perfect."
"Some of them balked at the idea."
"Why?"
"Because she's . . . you now . . . a Negro." We got into the truck and I backed out of the parking spot. "I know it doesn't make any difference but—"
"So who got upset? As if I didn't know?"
"Nate Kincaid."
"Why, that little bigot. I'll fix his wagon."
I started down the road to Bright's Pond. "Oh, don't fret over him. He can't do anything about it. Majority rules on the committee. He'll get used to it."
"A black Mary? I don't know," Ivy said. She clicked her tongue.
"Like I said, it's not up to Nate Kincaid. But what if some people in the audience don't like it?"
"Who cares? Let them get upset."
"Well, I still have to ask her and get permission from her mama. That might be a problem."
"Yeah, some of them woods people don't like us townsfolk."
"I know, but Mercy's different. I hope her mama is too. I figure I'll ask her next time she comes to the library."
"You better hurry. Time is running out and you would look pretty silly playing Mary."
"I'll have Mercy at the next rehearsal."
"I bet you will."
"Say, did you hear about the animals?" I asked.
"You mean all those little kids dressed up like sheep?"
"Nope. We got us a real live camel for the show."
"But how? There are no camels in Bright's Pond."
Ivy rolled down her window a couple of inches. The cold December air felt good on my face. I said, "You know that artist fella, Filby Pruett?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Well, he apparently knows someone with a traveling animal act, and he got this person to lend us a camel and a sheep."
"That's amazing. We never had real animals—well, except the time one of the Frost sisters' pigs got loose and rampaged through the scenery." Ivy laughed.
"I remember that. They treated that pig like a dog."
"Yeah, but they should never have let it off the leash during the play."
I pulled up out front of Ivy's house. "Thanks for coming with me."
"Sure. But pick a date—today. And then make that appointment and talk to Ruth about Agnes."
"I will."
I pulled away from the curb and headed toward home. With only nineteen days before Christmas there was a lot to do. This was one of those times I resented Agnes for being so huge and helpless and incapable of helping me. I knew she couldn't help it but that didn't mean it still didn't hurt to know that once again I would be doing all the work to make her look and feel good and that somehow I would fade into the background.
17
A Yuletide Committee meeting had been called for that evening. A final decision had to be made about the Shoops Moose and about Mary. It wasn't important to me if the Moose marched in the parade but allowing Mercy Lincoln to be our Mary this year was.
So I hung my wedding dress in my closet and went to the library. School would be letting out soon, and I needed to open the library anyway just in case some of the kids needed to do research or check out a reading book.
On the way, I saw Charlotte near her new store and it was at that moment that I remembered we still needed some kind of wedding cake. There needed to be something traditional about my wedding.
"Charlotte," I called. "Can I talk to you?"
"Oh, sure," she said. "I was waiting for that plumber fella to come by. Supposed to help me with the appliances and such, not to mention the toilet in there. It's a mess."
"I guess you heard by now that Zeb and I are getting married around Christmas."
"Yes, I did hear. Rose Tattoo told me. A Christmas wedding does sound nice. You can do so much—themewise. And as long as you're certain."
I thought a moment. "I'm sure. I think all that confusion over Cliff and Zeb had more to do with me wanting to feel a little freedom for a while. I'd been stuck in the house with my sister for years and years. It felt nice to be on my own."
"Sure it did, Griselda. I remember feeling a similar way when Herman died. Oh, I was sad and all but after a while I started to enjoy being on my own."
Charlotte turned her key in the shop door lock. "Have you been inside?"
"No."
"Come on, I'll show you around. Not much to see yet, but I have designs in my mind."
The shop was nothing more than a few broken down stoves and a big empty space with wires hanging from the ceiling and pipes sticking up through the black and white checkerboard floor.
"I know it looks a fright but the inspectors have insured me that it's basically sound."
"From what I know of Bill Tompkins and Claude Hastings the plumber they won't steer you wrong. This place will be churning out pies by the new year."
"I hope so. I am kind of looking forward to opening day. Think we could have a blessing of the pies?"
"Absolutely. And speaking of which I have a little predicament I thought you might help me with."
"Me? Sure. What's up?"
"Zeb and I want to be married around Christmas—which day exactly I don't know—but
. . . well, we need a cake and—"
"Oh, I don't make cakes. I wouldn't know how to make a wedding cake. I could make a wedding pie but—"
"Uhm, that's OK. There must be a bakery in Shoops that can do it."
Charlotte brushed dust off a narrow counter with her palm. "You know, Griselda, does it have to be cake?"
"Well, I kind of wanted—but what are you thinking?"
"I could probably construct some sort of wedding pie, you know with tiers that go out like this." She spread her arms about three feet wide. "And then stack them in layers to form a kind of cake-shape and we could decorate the pies with Christmasy flowers and ornaments, make kind of a Christmas Pie Tree Wedding Cake."
I took a breath and let it out slowly. Thinking. Imagining. I had no idea if the picture in my mind matched the image in Charlotte's, but I said, "OK. Why not? But can you make something like that in your trailer?"
Charlotte looked a bit dumbstruck. "Uh-huh. I sure can. Leave it to me—except what flavors?"
"Cherry, of course, and apple."
"Maybe a coconut cream to represent the snow on the ground. Oh, my, my, Griselda, that's it. I'll make a tier of coconut cream and then start stacking pies like this and like that—" she moved her hands from side to side. "I'm sure Asa can build me a pie stand that would work."
"Sounds good to me as long as you think you can. Course I don't like coconut but don't worry about that. I like the idea of it."
"As long as you're sure . . . and oh, I just had a thought. We'll top it all off with one of Zeb's Full Moon Pies."
"Sounds good. Thank you, Charlotte."
The shop door opened.
"Oh," I said. "There's Claude. I need to get to the library anyway."
"Hey, Claude," I said.
"Congratulations, Griselda," Claude said.
"OK, Griselda," Charlotte called as I walked out the door. "We'll talk."
By the time I made it to the library a small group of students were waiting on steps.
"Hey, Miss Griselda," called one of the boys. "We thought you weren't gonna open."
"I'm sorry. I got tied up in town. Just need a minute to get the place open."
I unlocked the door and flipped on the lights and the kids piled in and then scattered like roaches all over the library. I kept my eyes open for Mercy. She usually moseyed in toward closing time. It was important that she went home to help her mama after school. I remembered I needed to ask if Doc made it back there to check on Charlamaine Lincoln. She had been sick, according to Mercy.
After restocking a couple of books and laying out the latest copies of Scientific American and Hunters Digest, I sat behind the counter waiting for the kids to clear out for home and supper.
Mercy showed up about ten minutes before closing.
"You got any books about the Civil War, Miz Griselda?" she asked. "I need to do a report on Robert E. Lee."
"Sure, Mercy. Right over here."
I showed her three books and then decided to pop the question. "Mercy," I said. "Have you ever come to the Sunday school Christmas pageant?"
She shook her head. "No, Ma'am, I never."
"Well, you do know the story of baby Jesus, don't you?"
"Oh, sure. Everybody knows about the baby Jesus being born on Christmas Day and all. I read me the story straight from that Bible you got over there."
"Good. Good, well, every year the children at the Bright's Pond Church put on a play about that day. They have shepherds and Joseph and Mary and the innkeeper and angels and sheep."
"That sounds nice. I never seen anything like that in all my born days."
"This year they are looking for a little girl to play Mary, and I thought you might like to do it."
"Me, Miz Griselda?" She pointed to her heart. "You want me to play-act Jesus' mama? Well, I can't do that. She's awful holy and all and I'm . . . not holy. No way. I mean I like Jesus and all but pretendin' to be his mama?" She shook her head.
"I think you would make a perfect Mary. And God won't mind you doing it. In fact, you'll make him proud. "
She looked around the library. "I'll need to ask my Mama, first."
"Good. You do that. But do it tonight. You'll need to be at the church Thursday at seven o'clock."
"Will you be there?"
"I sure will."
"I'll go straightaway home and ask Mama. Imagine that, me play-acting Jesus' mama."
"OK, so you'll come to the church then, Thursday. You know the way?"
"I do. I can get there all by myself."
I closed up the library and headed down to the café. The committee meeting was scheduled, but first, I was hungry and I kind of wanted to see Zeb, tell him about the dress and the Christmas Tree Pie Wedding Cake.
Dot Handy greeted me first. "Hey, Griselda, how's tricks?"
"OK, Dot. But I am hungry. What's good tonight?"
"Oh, you know it's all good. Zeb is a fine cook."
"Yeah, makes me wonder who will do the cooking in the family."
"Oh, this is strictly business. Believe me, you'll be the chief chef."
"OK, well, how about a burger tonight with fries."
Zeb stuck his head through the pick-up window. "Hey."
I smiled. "Hey, yourself. Make me a good burger."
"Let me see it," he said.
"See what?"
He held up his hand.
"Oh, oh, the ring. Right here. Right where you left it."
He smiled and went back to cooking and singing "Jingle Bells."
"I don't know when it was worse," Dot said. "When you two were on the outs or now. He's like a child back there. Never seen him so happy."
"He is cute."
Dot poured coffee in my cup.
"Are you coming to the meeting tonight?"
"Yep. Zeb is closing up early so we can have the place to ourselves."
"Good. Then I'll just stay here until everyone arrives."
Dot worked the counter and waited tables. She had gotten pretty good at handling the job. I could never do it. I would have everything so messed up and confused.
"I don't know how you do it." I said, as she placed a turkey platter in front of a customer.
"Do what?"
"Keep it all straight."
"Oh, you mean waitressing? Ah, it's nothing."
"I couldn't do it."
"Yeah, but I couldn't fly a plane. We all have our specialties."
Zeb's rendition of "Jingle Bells" came to a stop. "Plane?" he said. "Did you go flying with Cliff today?"
"No, not today, but I'm planning on flying to Scranton with him Saturday. Going to take my pilot's test."
"You still need to do that?" Zeb asked with his head and practically his whole body through the window.
"Yes. I told you. I'm getting my pilot's license."
"Uh-oh," Dot said. "Here we go again."
"No, no, Dot," I said. "It's all right. Isn't it, Zeb?"
Zeb was silent.
"Isn't it?" I said louder.
"Yeah, yeah. It's just fine."
Then all of sudden Zeb was standing in front of me. "I just worry about you—up there. It's dangerous."
"Cliff says it's safer than driving a car or truck."
"But you can survive a car crash."
"Don't fret. I'll be fine. We're getting married. God isn't going to take me home this close to my wedding day."
"You don't know that," he said.
"And speaking of days. What day are we getting married?"
Zeb grew quiet, as did the whole café.
"Yeah," called Harriet Nurse. "When is the big day? And are we all invited?"
"Sure, the whole town is invited. And how about it, Zeb? Want to make it a real Christmas wedding and get hitched on Christmas Eve?"
"Awwww," Dot said. "That's nice."
"I bought my dress today and arranged for a cake—well, sort of a cake, more like a Christmas surprise."
Zeb shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Gee, Griselda, I hadn't thought about the exact date."
"You getting cold feet now?" Dot said.
"No. Fine. Christmas Eve it is. At the church. One o'clock in the afternoon."
I didn't say anything. If I did he'd just get all bothered that once again Agnes was getting between us. But I knew I had to tell him that we should probably have the ceremony at the nursing home.
Zeb went back to his kitchen and resumed singing.
Dot leaned close to me. "You know I was thinking. What about Agnes? How in the heck are you gonna get her to the church. Can't expect them to knock a wall down again to get Nate Kincaid's forklift through."
"I know," I whispered. "I have a plan, but he's not going to like it."
"And what do you mean by 'sort of a cake' ?" he called.
18
Zeb had all the customers served and out the door by six o'clock—all but the members of the committee who had come in for dinner. We waited for Nate and Boris to arrive. Mildred would be late as usual. But Ruth was there. She brought her sewing along.
"I finished all the shepherds and Joseph, but I have two more angels to finish—my goodness but them girls shot up like weeds this year—and of course, Mary, but I can't do Mary until I know who's playing her."
I sat at the booth Ruth was at. "I'm hoping it will be Mercy Lincoln. I asked her today and she got really excited about doing it, a little dumbstruck at the notion of playing Jesus' mother. But she said she'd talk to her mama."
"Mercy Lincoln would be a great Mary," Dot said. "And I say we let her have the part in spite of Nate's protests. The old blowhard."
"OK," I said. "Now I know this is Boris's job ordinarily, but I think there are enough of us here to make a quorum. So with a show of hands, all in favor of Mercy Lincoln taking the role of Mary."
It was unanimous. Now I just had to pray that Charlamaine Lincoln would approve.
Boris and Nate arrived. They squeezed next to Studebaker. We only had to wait on Mildred.
"I sure hope she has news from Paradise about what's going on," Boris said. "I'd hate to lose the Shoops Moose. They provide a lot of revenue for us with advertising."
"While we wait," Nate said, "maybe we can move on to other business. I just want you to know I finished building the manger set. It's a doozy this year. And yes, Griselda, I got the inn finished also. It looks great. Stella helped me nail it all together."