“Here are the particulars, which will undoubtedly be printed in the Press, but we want you to mark your calendars now. As usual, the party will commence at two P.M., Saturday, December twentieth—which is exactly two weeks from today—and end when the last of you leaves.” And don’t we all know who that will be? she wanted to say aloud but stifled herself. It was always Cora Davis who didn’t want to miss a single thing! She and her husband, who wasn’t much for gatherings, always came in separate cars since he came late and left early and she was first to arrive, last to leave. “Come when you want, leave when you want. But make sure you’re there by five, since you don’t want to miss the Best of Happy Hookers Moments. If we can talk our Maggie into it, we might even have a moment of show and tell for the most shocking entry!”
Maggie leapt up from her seat. “Excuse me, but I simply must interrupt here, Dorothy. I hereby promise you a show-and-tell moment. The line will start forming around four, gentlemen. Ben says you can look but not touch!” This drew a huge laugh and a few hoots and catcalls. Although the tattoo was only on her ankle, it was public and much talked about knowledge that since she was twelve years old, Maggie had the best gams in Partonville and had never been afraid to show them off. Plus, you had to be living in a cave not to have heard about her tattoo.
“Thank you, Maggie! Along with Maggie’s Ta-dah! moment, as usual, food and beverages—and a short supply of an especially cheerful eggnog, if I know Doc,” another short but fervent round of applause went up, “will be supplied. Board games, decks of cards, no doubt a little Christmas caroling and general merry-making will be had by all, I’m sure. And now, I’d like to lead us in a special cheer for our new hostess with the mostest.”
“Ah-hah! So Ms. Durbin is hosting!” Cora whispered to her husband.
“If you’ll all stand, please,” Dorothy instructed. The sounds of murmuring and metal chair legs scraping against cement filled the room. Since Dorothy was the official cheerleader for the Wild Musketeers, Partonville’s mostly senior citizens softball team, as well as the town’s unofficial and much-respected matriarch, whether they cared for Katie Durbin or not, they’d sure stand up for Dorothy. Katie had reseated herself after her first acknowledgment and it didn’t feel right to stand for a cheer about herself, and at a funeral dinner no less, but Dorothy grabbed her arm and up she came. Katie was visibly aghast at this whole idea, which she could see was highly entertaining to Jacob, who was seated next to her.
“You know, folks, now that we’re all standing, let’s all lift our hearts and any glasses you see in front of you.” Everyone did as they were told. Pretty soon iced tea, empty glasses and cups of coffee were held high in anticipation of a toast to Katie.
“Dear Lord,” Dorothy said, surprising everyone. She kept her eyes opened and looked up, water glass lifted over her head. A few people bowed their heads when they figured out she was praying; it just wasn’t respectful not to bow your head when praying. A few others stared at her unsure of what to do, prayer not being part of their everyday routine—especially not what they perceived to be a toasting prayer! “We give You thanks and praise for the life of Your child Richard Lawson who is the reason we are gathered here together. We will miss him dearly.” Her voice cracked and she had to swallow and pause a moment before she could continue. “His mother, Sadie, will miss him. His brother, Roscoe, will miss him.” Roscoe released a short audible sob, the first he’d allowed himself in public. There was just always something about Dorothy’s prayers. “This town will miss him, Lord. We can’t even imagine what we’ll do without his presence. The band won’t be the same. We won’t be the same.” A few quiet releases of Amen! swirled among them. “But we take this moment to lift high our glasses and celebrate his entry into heaven!” She stopped talking and took two toasting gulps of her water. Others followed suit, even those who’d closed their eyes. “Thank You, Lord! Thank You for giving us Rick, even for so short a time.” People started to set their glasses down, their arms a little weary.
“And now,” Dorothy said, surprising everyone yet again, “we lift our glasses to give You thanks for sending this bright new resident, Katie Durbin, to Partonville. We thank You for the heart of a woman who will help us keep our traditions alive, even in the midst of our grief. We ask You to bless all of her efforts on behalf of our little town. Thank You, Jesus! Amen!” She took another gulp, as did everyone else—including all who’d had to air sip for both toasts.
When people started to sit, she said, “Please remain standing. We’re not through yet. I promised you a cheer and you’re gonna get one!” She walked to the buffet table, grabbed two paper napkins and shook them out, placed one in each hand and moved toward the front of the room.
“Watch out, now,” Doc hollered, teasing her. “I hope you got yourself a nitroglycerin handy!” He was only half joking.
Dorothy waved one of her makeshift pom-poms at him. “Not to worry. I hear there’s a good doctor in the house!” She paused a moment and cast her eyes around the room. “Doctor Nielson! Could you please make your whereabouts known to us, just in case?” Well, she brought the house down with that one. The young Doctor Nielson was as embarrassed as Katie, but what the heck. If he was ever going to become a true part of these people’s lives, be embraced by them, he’d better join in, and so he lifted his arm and waved.
“Ready?” Dorothy asked. The crowd acknowledged its enthusiasm—including Sadie, who, even though numb, released herself for the briefest of moments to a short burst of joy. Had it been anyone but Dorothy inviting this moment into her son’s funeral dinner, it would have been unbearable. Instead, hope itself stood before Sadie in the form of a five-foot ten-inch, merry-making, eighty-eight-year-old waving napkin pom-poms. More than once she’d heard Dorothy say you never get over the loss of a child, but you eventually learn to live with it. Yes, Dorothy was a beacon of hope that she herself could survive.
Dorothy threw her arms in the air and wildly waved her napkins. “Give me a Katie!”
“KATIE!” the crowd chanted.
“Give me a Durbin!”
“DURBIN!
“What does it spell?”
“KATIE DURBIN!”
“No, it doesn’t!”
People stared at Dorothy with confusion.
“IT SPELLS THE CHRISTMAS PARTY’S ON!”
For all Dorothy’s fretting, this remarkable turn of events about the Christmas party had unfolded without any of her doing. In fact, it was highly possible several good things had been set in motion, she’d told the Big Guy during her evening prayers Thursday night. “I do believe You’re working overtime again, Lord. But then again, when don’t You?”
Jacob hadn’t arrived home Thursday evening until a little after ten. “Sorry I didn’t make it to May Belle’s, Mom. I hope she sent my pie home with you—and that you didn’t eat it already.” He drew his eyebrows together, gave her an admonishing look and opened the refrigerator door.
“Pish-posh on your pie. I’ve got my own piece. I don’t need yours!”
“You’re not telling me you brought your piece home when I didn’t show up, are you?” he said, backing out of the fridge with a wrapped plate. “Because if you are, I don’t believe it for a second.”
“No wonder you’re a lawyer, you always sniff out the truth. In fact, I did eat a piece at May Belle’s—although neither of us could believe we were desserting again after indulging ourselves in that Extravagant Tray!—but she sent another piece home for me anyway.”
“Is that what I’m eating here?” he asked as he began to move around the kitchen retrieving a fork and napkin.
“Nope. I hid mine in the back of the fridge in case I was sleeping when you got home. Didn’t want you to eat both of them.” Dorothy stared at her son while he unwrapped the plastic, silently giving thanks for his presence in her kitchen. Although he did have the same tired eyes he used to get when he was a boy, at the same time he seemed uncommonly . . . what? Energized? Maybe he was so tired he
was punchy. “You must be exhausted,” she said. “What time did you go up to Rick’s this morning anyway? Nine? That makes a thirteen-hour day, son, which is too many for a guy who’s just helping out. I’m starting to feel sorry I got you into this.”
“Don’t feel bad, Mom. I admit it’s not my idea of the dream vacation, but to be honest, it makes me feel good to do something for someone else for a change.”
“What on earth are you talking about? That’s all you do all the day long! The reason you became an attorney was so you could help folks! And from the sounds of it, your law practice keeps you more than busy helping your clients with this cause and that.”
“More than busy,” he said, taking a seat at the table across from her and plunking down with a sigh, “helping fat cats get fatter.” The tone in his voice sounded . . . she wasn’t sure what.
“Jacob, honey, what is it?”
He finally took a bite of his pie which was yet untouched. He swallowed, took another bite, swallowed. “Mm. This pie is delicious. I thought you said it was custard pie. Can’t be, this tastes too good. What does she put in here?”
“I asked her the same thing but she didn’t say. Just May Belle Magic, I guess. But don’t change the subject, Jacob. What’s bothering you?”
He looked up at her, pushed his tongue into his cheek until he’d settled something in his mind and tucked away his vulnerabilities. “Oh, nothing really. I’m just tired. Things feel exaggerated when I’m tired. Mostly, though, I don’t want you fretting you did something wrong getting me involved with this because it’s been good for me. Besides, I’m getting to spend time with you every evening. And after the funeral dinner on Saturday we’ll have the rest of the day and all day Sunday before I’ll probably fly out. I’ve decided to go with you to all the doings this weekend.” He gave himself an internal smile, “doings” being a Partonville word he wouldn’t be caught dead using on the East Coast. “Originally I wasn’t going to, but after working at Rick’s office all week, I feel kind of invested, as though I’ve gotten to know him better through his secretary and so many phone calls from people talking about him, sharing what all he did for them, how kind he was. The man handled everything from injuries to adoptions to real estate!”
“It’ll be good for you to go to the wake and funeral, Jacob. I’m sure your presence will be comforting to Roscoe and Sadie.” Dorothy was now hungry for her second piece of pie, which she retrieved after removing the gallon of milk and sliding over a pickle jar and a can of soda, all which she’d used to hide it. “Glass of milk?” she asked.
“Thanks.”
She poured two glasses, served them and settled back down.
“Also, it’ll be a good chance to see other folks I know from high school and haven’t caught up with for decades. Pastor Delbert—it feels strange to call him that since I knew him in high school when he was just a rebellious preacher’s kid!—asked me during the Thanksgiving dinner if I’d seen Hank Bentley yet, which got me to thinking about some of the old gang. It’ll give me a chance to wax nostalgic, see if anybody else remembers stopping at Harry’s for French fries and cokes after school. I started thinking about those days earlier this evening when Katie mentioned her distaste for Harry’s.”
Whoops! He hadn’t really meant to mention her tonight. It’s not that he was planning on hiding his dinner with Katie, but he knew his mom’s antennae were up about him and Katie and he didn’t like that. Dorothy raised her eyebrows, smiled and shoveled in another bite of pie. “Quit smiling,” he all but growled. “We just went to dinner because we’d both worked so late and were both on the square and she hadn’t eaten and . . .”
“There’s no need for you to explain your whereabouts or whoabouts with me, son. It’s a small town, easy to run into somebody on the square. I’m glad you had some good company. Where’d you eat?”
“Hey, thought I didn’t need to explain anything,” he said flatly.
“You don’t. But you know better than to think I don’t want to know!” They both chuckled.
“We went to the Olive Garden in Hethrow. Soup and a salad sounded good to both of us at that late hour.” He smiled, stabbed his last bite of pie. “And because I’m sure inquiring minds still want to know,” he said, pausing to eat the last lingering bite hanging in front of his mouth, “she dropped her car off at the farm and I drove. I went in and visited with Josh for a minute when I dropped her back off. That’s why I’m so late.”
“How’s her mini-mall project coming?” Dorothy asked. Absolutely no personal questions. “I feel badly I haven’t talked to her all week.”
“She mentioned that. She seemed curious as to whether or not we’d gone on a road trip. Wonder how and where she might have gotten that idea?” Although he was trying to sound annoyed with the obvious inside informant, Dorothy could tell he didn’t really care.
“A little birdie.”
“A big bird, I think. A big tough old bird,” he said, bonking her on the head like she was ten.
“Hey! Watch yourself now!” She hadn’t seen him this animated since his brother and nephews were here a few days ago. Seemed as though spending time with Katie had perked him up. “So, how is the mini-mall project coming along?”
“She’d just finished her meeting with the architect when I dropped by and I gather they’re getting together with Edward Showalter tomorrow.”
Dorothy would have to remember to tell Maggie the new hairdo she gave Katie seemed to be doing wonders for her—although she’d never tell her exactly what she meant by that lest the whole town fill up with gossip.
“She’s hoping he can serve as a general contractor. Funny, a woman with her experience trusts this goofy guy who drives a camouflage van,” Jacob said.
“Let me remind you that goofy guy did all my renovations here, helped move me, does excellent work and is currently dating our very own Nellie Ruth McGregor.”
“Nellie Ruth. She’s the redhead. A Hooker on your altar guild, right?”
“Very good! Stick around here another week and you’ll know everybody’s business, too!”
“I met Edward Showalter at your auction. I have to say I did like the guy, even though he is quirky. You’ve bragged on him enough for me to know Edward Showalter is a man of his word. But, Mom, why does everyone always call him by his full name?”
“Don’t have a clue. Here’s something unusual, though: Nellie Ruth has taken to calling him ES. I’m sure that means they’ve got something special. But enough speculation. What else did Katie have to say about her project?”
“She said the architect thought her atrium idea would work. She seemed very enthusiastic about that.”
“Good. Good! ”
“She also said she’s going to hold a mall-naming competition to get people invested in the idea. And she asked me for my opinion about the legalities of having lessees.”
“I’m sure you were helpful, son. Between Rick and Katie, turns out you arrived in town just in time to become Superman, helping the downtrodden and distressed whenever the need arises!”
“I’d hardly call Katie Durbin downtrodden and distressed. By the way, she said she’d be happy to host the Christmas party. Or co-host it. However you want to work it. She doesn’t care. She said to just let her know.”
Dorothy’s jaw dropped open. “How’d that come up?”
“I brought it up. You’d mentioned it the other day, remember?”
“You asked her about that? Please tell me you didn’t say ‘Mom wants to know.’ ”
“Let’s just say there was a natural segue when she and Josh and I were chatting. And by the way, did you know there’s talk of him getting a car? He’s really bugging his mom.”
“Oh, he’s told me all about that. It’s a ‘shoe-in’ the way he presented it in his e-mails. He’s even sent me a few lines from ads he’s cut out. I told him he should go shopping with Arthur. Arthur can give any car a good listen-to and know if it is a gooder or not, to use one of his words.”
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“I don’t know Katie very well, but I told Josh on the q.t. that he should back off a tad. Katie definitely doesn’t seem the type you’d want to bug if you were trying to get something from her. I offered to help once they work something out, but I’m not exactly a genius at spotting a good used car. Arthur would be perfect. Now if Vinnie were here, he’d be a good help, too. He was always better at tinkering than me.”
“So Josh is really bugging Katie, huh? I figured he’d be smarter than that.”
“He’s eager, that’s for sure. When I mentioned we didn’t have your Christmas decorations up yet, Josh jumped in and volunteered to go get their tree while Katie was busy with the mini mall—if he only had a car.” Jacob chuckled and shook his head at the memory. “Katie reminded him they had a perfectly shaped fake tree, I believe were her exact words, in the attic. Josh responded with something like ‘you don’t have a fake tree on a farm, Mom!’ Then he tried to rope me into backing him up with both the tree and the car.”
“Did you?”
“Not exactly,” he said with a devilish grin. “I did tell them about the giant fresh trees we always had out there. To be honest, it made me kind of lonesome for the old place. I told them how George always set the biggest one aside for us because he so enjoyed our party—hear my windup coming for the segue, Mom?” Dorothy grinned, gave her head a small nod. “Then she asked what was happening with the party this year, so I said you’d been wondering the same thing.”
“Jacob Henry Wetstra! You didn’t!”
“I did. And wait till Josh hears this.”
“What?”
“That both our moms pulled our full names out of their bag of parenting tricks today!”
Katie called Dorothy at 8:30 the next morning, asking Dorothy why she hadn’t brought up the annual Christmas party before. Hosting the party would give her a reason to stop obsessing about the mini mall for a change and serve as an incentive to finally decorate her new home. “After so many years in the same place, it becomes easier once you have a handle on just what goes well where,” she’d said, “and try saying that three times quickly!” Dorothy laughed and agreed on all counts.
Dearest Dorothy, Merry Everything! Page 13