by Pamela Morsi
“Miss Kepper!” Pete called out. “Call 911!”
The woman stepped out of her office for one instant. Just long enough to give a startled scream and then she was on the phone.
“Where am I? I need to get to the store,” Hank said.
“You’re at the store, Dad. We’re going to get you an ambulance.”
“Maddie? Maddie, is that you?” he asked.
“No, Dad, it’s Pete. Mom’s in China, remember.”
“I need Maddie,” he said. “I need to tell her something.”
“You can tell her when she gets home,” Pete assured him.
His father moaned.
Miss Kepper came running out of her office. “The ambulance is on the way,” she said. “I alerted Phoebe to wait at the front door and direct them up here.”
“Good,” Pete said.
She knelt down on the other side of him with the ease of a girl. But the concern in her expression accentuated the lines of age on her face.
“What happened?” she asked Pete.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Maybe it’s a heart attack.”
“I have an aspirin in my purse, aren’t you supposed to take an aspirin?”
Miss Kepper didn’t wait for an answer but rushed to her office, returning momentarily with a glass of water and a small white pill.
Pete raised his father into more of a sitting position to make it easier for him to swallow the aspirin, but it quickly became clear that he was not going to be able to do it. He choked and gasped and water ran out the side of his mouth.
Miss Kepper crushed the pill with her thumbnail and spread the dust on his tongue.
He seemed to appreciate that and opened his eyes.
“Is that you?” Hank’s voice was strangely weak as he reached out a shaky hand.
“Yes, it’s me,” Miss Kepper answered, clasping his fingers in her own. “I’m here, Hank. I’m right here.”
“I have to tell you,” he groaned out.
“Don’t try to talk, save your strength,” Miss Kepper said to him.
“I have to tell you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry things didn’t work out so well for you. You know that I always loved you.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve always known,” Miss Kepper told him.
His father made a strange sound, part choking, part moan. Pete tried to raise his head a bit so he could catch his breath. He was looking straight into his father’s eyes when the light went out of them. The dark widened pupils that had viewed the world for sixty-six years narrowed to tiny pinpoints and saw nothing at all.
“No! No!” Miss Kepper screamed. “Don’t leave me!”
Pete said nothing as he held his father in his arms.
The funeral of Henry P. “Hank” Guthrie, III was held at Plainview United Methodist. It had to be delayed for several days as Pete’s mother made her way from the wilds of southern China to the Midwestern landscape of Plainview.
But she did arrive, arrangements were made and the service was held in a reverent and tasteful manner.
Andi attended with Pop by her side. The church was filled to capacity and they were lucky to slip into a seat near the back. She glanced around and spotted the Joffees near the front. Rachel smiled and waved. From the corner of her eye, Andi thought she saw her father wink at the woman. She hoped she’d just imagined that.
In attendance were people from virtually every civic organization in town. His buddies from the golf course were there. As were several members of his college football squad, Cornbelt Conference Champions of 1965. And four rows of Guthrie Foods employees were seated directly behind the family pew.
The eulogies went on forever. There were stories about his childhood and growing up in a busy grocery store. Remembrances of parties at the country club and Rotary projects. Mayor Penny Gunderson-Smythe gave such a glowing review of Hank’s accomplishments as alderman that it almost sounded like a campaign speech.
Through it all Andi watched Pete, or what she could see of him, seated at the front with his mother.
Madeleine Grosvenor Guthrie was a chic and attractive widow in a suit of plum-colored tweed. Pete was beside her, looking unaccustomedly formal in a dark suit. Sitting with them, instead of among the employees, Miss Doris Kepper was adorned in unrelieved black.
There were songs and Bible readings, candles and prayers and afterward they all filed out to reassemble at the burial.
Andi and Pop decided not to go to the cemetery. Pop needed to pick up Jelly and get to St. Hyacinth’s for the lunch delivery. Andi asked him to drop her off at the car wash. Tiff was covering it. And having worked the place alone herself, Andi knew it was tough.
When she arrived, to her surprise, Tiff had recruited her own help. Gil McCarin, dressed in a pair of lime-green swim trunks, was soaping up the rims of a big, mud-encrusted pickup.
Tiff was hosing down the truck bed.
“How was it?” she asked.
Andi shrugged. “Good. Sad, but a lot more talk about his life than his death.”
“You look great,” Tiff pointed out. “I love that dress on you.”
Andi glanced down. “I bought this for my mother’s funeral. I could never wear it, but I guess for another funeral it’s perfect.” Tiff nodded.
Andi gave a small head nod toward Gil and then asked, feigning innocuousness, “What’s up?”
Tiff blushed. She offered a shrug. “I think Gil decided that if he couldn’t beat us, he’d join us.”
“I never wanted to ‘beat’ you,” Gil said, rising from his squatting position to face Andi. “It just took me a while to come around.” He turned to Tiff. “Are you finished with that wand?”
She nodded and handed him the water hose.
Tiff stepped down from the truck’s open tailgate. She stood, first on one foot and then the other, not seeming to know what to do with her hands, as no bikini ever had pockets. “Spill it,” Andi said. “You obviously have something to say.”
“Gil and I are...we’re working on getting back together,” she said sheepishly.
“Wow,” Andi responded.
“I...I told him that he’d have to prove that he was willing to work at anything to support his family,” she said. “So he’s here, helping out just for tips.”
“That’s great,” Andi said. “I mean, it’s great if you’re sure.”
Tiff shook her head and gave Andi a self-deprecating grin. “I’m not sure about anything,” she admitted. “But I do still love him and we both love Caleb. It’s seems like in hard times like these maybe if we pull together things will be easier than trying to make it alone.”
Andi hugged her friend, wishing, hoping for the very best for them.
“Well, if you two have got this under control,” Andi said. “I think I’ll go over to the Guthries’ house. Pete asked me to come by, but I didn’t want to leave you in the lurch.”
“Go,” Tiff said. “Me and my assistant here, we’ve got it covered.”
Andi laughed.
She dug her phone out of her small clutch bag, intending to call Pop. But when she saw the time, she knew he and Jelly were already deep into their delivery route.
Maybe she should just walk, she thought. Then she glanced down at her shoes. Four-inch high-heel pumps were not exactly crosstown hike compatible. She could put on her sneakers, carry her pumps and then change when she got there. But would she carry the old sneakers around? Hide them in the bushes? And how hot and sweaty would she get in the interim.
She needed a ride.
Andi was thinking to wait until Tiff and Gil were finished with the pickup and ask if one of them could give her a lift. But just then, she noticed a shiny blue Mercedes pulling up to the curb across Fifth Street at the side entrance to Joffee’s Manhattan Store. The two Joffee brothers exited the vehicle.
Without thinking twice, Andi began walking in that direction. As soon as Rachel caught sight of her, she rolled down the window, but her expression was wary.
She was a
n attractive woman, Andi couldn’t deny that. Her hair was as much silver now as brunette, she was trim and petite with a lovely smile. Momentarily Andi compared her with her own mother. Ella Wolkowicz had been a big-boned blonde with sad eyes and a gentle smile. Had these two women actually been high school friends? It was off balance to think that Rachel Joffee had known her mother in a way that was so different in the way that Andi knew her. And it was just plain crazy-making to think that Pop had loved this woman, this stranger, so long ago and now, too.
“Hi, Andi,” she said.
“Hi, listen, are you going over to the Guthries’ house?” she asked.
“Well, yes, I was just on my way there,” she answered. “I dropped the boys off to get their cars. They hate to be ‘trapped’ somewhere with me. They want to be able to leave when they want to leave.”
Andi nodded. She could appreciate the feeling.
“Pop and Jelly are already out doing Meals on Wheels,” she said. “Could you give me a lift over there?”
“Absolutely,” Rachel said. “Get in.”
Andi walked around the car, opened the door and slid into the passenger’s seat. The two women smiled at each other, but with a certain amount of trepidation on both sides.
Rachel put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. At the stoplight, she turned left onto Grosvenor Avenue.
“It was a lovely service today for Mr. Guthrie,” Andi said, sort of practicing her small talk for the after-funeral gathering.
“Yes, it was very positive, very uplifting,” Rachel agreed. “That was Maddie’s influence, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know her,” Andi admitted. “But she’s a very attractive woman.”
“She looked great today,” Rachel agreed. “She was all rested and tanned. Still, what a terrible thing to come home to.”
“Yes,” Andi agreed politely, thinking that the conversation was going very well. It would not be a good idea for Andi to go prying into this woman’s relationship with Pop or accusing her of moving too fast. “It was so nice for so many of the Guthrie Foods employees to show up. The store was closed for the day, but nobody twisted any arms to make anyone show up.”
“They’re a good company to work for,” Rachel said. “They always have been.”
Andi nodded vaguely.
“How long have you and Pete been dating,” Rachel asked.
“Oh, we haven’t,” Andi answered quickly. Then realized she’d been caught in a lie. Or maybe an inconvenient truth. Rachel had obviously seen them together. “We’ve been sort of seeing each other for about a month,” she admitted. “But we’re not officially dating. I haven’t said anything to Pop about him.”
Rachel nodded as if she understood. But, of course, she couldn’t. Andi wasn’t sure she understood it herself.
“There is so much going on right now,” Andi felt obligated to explain. “My business is all up in the air and my mom’s death and now...now you and Pop getting married. With all that, I don’t know how straight I’m really thinking. And I don’t want to blindly jump into anything. I mean, just because he’s the most eligible guy in town, doesn’t mean that I should get involved with him.”
“Wait a minute,” Rachel said with a teasing smile. “I believe that my sons are actually the most eligible guys in town. Though I hope they are both looking for a nice Jewish girl.”
That statement gave Andi momentary pause.
“So, it’s okay for you to marry a Catholic, but you wouldn’t want your sons to do it.”
“I’d hope,” she answered thoughtfully, “that if they decided to do that, I would be able to be happy for them. You know what they say, ‘the heart wants what it wants.’ And that’s as true for the mother thinking about daughter-in-laws as it is for young people looking for brides or grooms.”
Andi regretted her question. She was sure that Pop would not appreciate having her ask it. She had undoubtedly said something she shouldn’t have. As the silence between them lengthened she humbly tried to backtrack.
“I hope that didn’t sound like a criticism of you,” Andi said.
“No, it’s okay,” Rachel assured her quickly. “I understand just how little sense it all seems to make. We start out in life thinking things are supposed to sort out easily and that everything ties up neatly. Then we find out that almost every question has at least two good answers that may be completely opposite of each other. We just have to feel our way through it, making the best decisions we can. Sometimes we make the wrong choices. But I’m not sure we ever even know that for certain.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like Walt and I,” she said. “If we’d gone against our parents and married, we’d have had forty years of wedded bliss by now. Paul would probably not have gone to the army and he and your mom would have had a lot of good years. So that seems like a good choice. But if we’d made it, it would most likely have cut us off from our families just when they needed us. And you children, you and your sister are the light of Walt’s life. And my boys, for all that they drive me crazy sometimes, are the best sons in the world. I’m not sure I’d be willing to give them up.”
“But you and Pop would have had kids,” Andi pointed out.
“Yes, that’s possible. But they wouldn’t be the ones we have,” she said. “I guess, the upside is that it really cuts down on the regrets. Personally, I don’t waste a minute on regrets, they’re useless.”
Andi heaved a sigh and shook her head. “I have enough for both of us,” she said. “Big things, little things, I’ve messed up a lot. And some of them I can never make right.”
“I’ll bet some of them have to do with your mother.”
Andi felt her face flush with embarrassment. “How could you know that? Has Pop said something?”
“No, of course not,” Rachel told her. “It’s just that when people die, especially people we love, there are always things we did or didn’t do that haunt us. It’s part of the grieving process.”
Andi nodded. She was glad that Pop hadn’t talked to Rachel about her. Andi should never have left town. Or she should have come home sooner. She should have tried to know her mother better. She should have... So many “she should haves.”
“You are very much like her, you know,” Rachel said.
The words startled Andi out of her thoughts, but surprised her, too.
“I’m more like Pop,” she said.
Rachel nodded. “You are like him. But I see Ella in you as well. We were not close in the last thirty-five years, but we were good friends in high school. You are, in many ways, how I remember her. She was so smart and she was fearless.”
Andi glanced at the woman skeptically. “Fearless?” she repeated.
“Absolutely. You didn’t see that in her?”
“No, not really.” Andi thought of her mother. Sewing matching dresses. Baking cookies on rainy days. Making a papier-mâché menagerie with Jelly. None of those things really called for courage. “My mom was more the happy homemaker type.”
Rachel agreed. “Yes, I suppose she was that, too. But I saw her willing herself to go on living after Paul died. Determined to have a happy marriage with Walt and defending her girls relentlessly against the status quo in this town.”
“She had to defend Jelly,” Andi said. “People can be so backward and suspicious of anyone who is different, no matter what the reason.”
“Yes,” Rachel agreed. “She defended your sister. But she defended you, too. I suspect that the same ladies that find your current business venture so abhorrent, were also quick to suggest that going off to Chicago to have a career did not compare favorably with staying home in Plainview and getting respectably married.”
Andi recognized a vague memory of that very thing being said a number of times in her own hearing. Her mother had only laughed lightly and waved away the advice with unconcern.
“I have Jelly to stay home with me,” her mother had said, time and time again. “I want Andi to go out and see t
he world.”
At the time, she’d not thought that much about it. There were a lot of silly women in church with outdated ideas. And Father Blognick was not much better. But she’d interpreted her mother’s response as typical of the structure of her family. Mom and Jelly were a team. Andi was not on their team. Andi was with Pop and therefore where Andi went, what Andi did was not so critical, not so much concern to Mom.
“Pop and I spent a lot more time together,” Andi explained. “We like the same things. We understand each other.”
Rachel nodded. “You are a terrific father-daughter pair,” she agreed. “But, think about it. Walt would never have defied Hank Guthrie. If Hank put Walt out of business, he would have just shrugged and walked away. He would never have dignified such pettiness as worth the fight.”
That was true, Andi realized. Hank reneged on buying the car wash. Pop hadn’t gotten angry or threatened a lawsuit, he’d just ignored it and went on about his life.
“And you can be sure,” Rachel continued, “that Walt would never have done something like opening a bikini car wash, wagging his finger in Hank’s face and daring him to do something about it.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Andi agreed.
“But I’m thinking that’s exactly what your mother might have done,” Rachel said.
Andi let those words sink in as Rachel drove down the wide, pristine boulevards of Plainview’s wealthier section of town. Since the bombshell at Delmonico’s, Andi had been emotionally flailing with the unwelcome idea that her family had not been quite what she’d thought them to be. Now, for the very first time, she considered that perhaps the reality of who and what her family actually turned out to be was something more complex, more well-rounded, simply better than her stilted, adolescent understanding had allowed for.
20
HIS PARENTS’ HOME, the house where he’d grown up, was bursting at the seams with the friends, acquaintances, officials and alumni who had come to comfort the family. Pete was very tired of smiling and of saying, “thank you.” Big parties, crowds of people, were very draining, especially so when you were still reeling from loss. He had to force himself to come up with things to say. And he was not all that good at it. All he wanted to do was hide out someplace until all these people went home. But he didn’t do that. He stood in the archway between the front hall and the formal living room, conversing with all comers. His father, ever gregarious, would have loved the idea of all these people in his house talking so nicely about him. Pete decided that it was the last thing he could do for his father, make his final gathering friendly and memorable. So he smiled and nodded and listened to the people who talked to him. And explained over and over exactly what had happened.