Sitting on a red cushioned pew in Christ Lutheran Church next to her mother, Juts listened to Pastor Wade drone on from the pulpit. Every Sunday, the three Hunsenmeirs trooped down the hill, walking in good weather on Emmitsburg Pike, where the Lutheran Church reposed perhaps two hundred yards behind the South Runnymede City Hall on the corner of the square. Each Sunday, Louise would kiss her mother and continue around the square to the northeast corner, where the more elaborate St. Rose of Lima Catholic church was located.
Juts, not inclined toward dogma, thought her sister silly to make such a show out of leaving them for the Catholic faith. While Juts enjoyed the service, the church calendar, and its reflection in the colors of the surplices and even the choir robes, she loved the rumble of the majestic and celebrated organ originally shipped from Hamburg in the early nineteenth century and considered church a necessary ritual. Somewhere, an archangel sat at a table with a clipboard checking the times you attended church, paying special attention to additional services in Lent. For Louise, dogma, the path to heaven, assumed prime importance.
The two sisters quarreled over it during the four years that Louise attended Immaculata Academy. As Juts was nine when Louise began, her arguments revolved around Louise’s turning into a killjoy. Dogma had nothing to do with it. Now, at the ripe age of just fifteen, it being her birthday, she did grasp some of the differences between Catholic and Lutheran teachings. Still, she couldn’t understand why it mattered.
During one of her fulminations concerning Carlotta’s influence on Louise, Celeste encouraged Louise to become an Episcopalian, which Celeste called a natural compromise.
Juts would have been as happy in a Shinto temple. The High Georgian architecture of Christ Lutheran made her feel party to a world of beauty, and a Shinto shrine, with its purity, would have produced a similar effect. Once, years ago, Cora visited a much older aunt, who lived in a Shaker village. This too had impressed Juts.
Louise, also, reveled in the colors, the incense, the candles flickering everywhere, the statuary, most especially of the Blessed Virgin Mother, arms lowered but outstretched in blessing. The statue of Jesus, the sacred heart poses, reminded her of the necessity of sacrifice. Granted, best the sacrifice be given by others but Jesus did provide the ultimate example.
And so, the morning of March 7, birthday or not, began as all Sunday mornings for the Hunsenmeirs. You paraded to church. The Grumbachers, Bleichroders, Epsteins, and others attended services in the temple Saturday night, but for all the others, Sunday it was. The Baptist churches tended to be off the square, some out on little country roads. The Methodist church sat near the temple over on Baltimore Street.
As Orrie was Louise’s best friend, she prayed for her daily. Orrie stayed firm in the Methodist faith. The two chose not to discuss religion.
The Presbyterian church, white-painted brick, was two blocks off the square on Hanover Road.
But in the main, the churches with social and political pull lined the square: Episcopal, Lutheran, and Catholic. Founded by Catholics, Maryland ensured that this faith had high status, certainly more so than in the other original thirteen colonies. Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries left its bloody stain throughout the centuries. St. Rose would have been built on the Maryland side but for an unusually devout Pennsylvanian, an Italian officer who had fought for King George. After being captured by the Yanks, he chose to stay when the war was over, and he prospered. He bought the land on the Pennsylvania side. Over time, other places of worship were added.
These three buildings reflected the aesthetics of the place as well as the time in which they were constructed. Christ Lutheran was redbrick with white pediments, white pillars with clean Doric columns, and huge, long, hand-blown-glass windows, a real testament to the wealth of the parishioners, as it was built shortly after the Revolutionary War. So was St. Rose of Lima, but there the embroidered, gilded, lush Italian influence overwhelmed the senses. St. Paul’s, the Episcopal Church next to St. Rose, provided a contrast. Its imposing edifice was constructed of light gray stone, two enormous brass doors, scenes from the Bible on them, and so many stained-glass windows that when the sun shone through in one direction, the colors were cast onto the snow through the windows on the other side of the church. The interiors reflected the temperament and times, as well.
Juts, affected by the silent pull of architecture and interiors, as is everyone, dutifully found the hymn, sharing the book with her mother.
Would this service never end? It was her birthday, after all. Surely Jesus didn’t mean for services to be so long and so dull.
Finally, with the last hymn still echoing, Pastor Wade proceeded down the wide right aisle to the vestibule doors, Bible in hand. The choir procession followed and then the pews emptied out in orderly fashion, the people closest to the pulpit and the lectern first—Lutherans were nothing if not organized.
As Pastor Wade took Juts’s hand, he smiled. “Happy birthday, Juts.”
“Thank you, Pastor Wade, and thank you for your sermon.” Juts was learning the ways of the world. Just because Pastor Wade’s sermon bored her didn’t mean she couldn’t thank him. As her mother told her, any performance takes a lot of work.
He beamed up at Cora as he next took her hand.
Emerging onto the square, where the snows were packed down, shining like hard vanilla sauce, Louise came toward them, now accompanied by Paul.
“She likes him,” Juts said, without much intonation.
“She does.” Cora squeezed Juts’s gloved hand. “He treats her right.”
“But Momma, you told us men always treat you right in the beginning.”
“Yes, most do. Sometimes when you’re young you aren’t as good a judge of character as later, but your sister has always had a way with people. Think of all the boys who’ve tried to court her. This fellow is different.”
“I want you to know, Momma, I am not getting married.”
“Yes, dear.” Cora didn’t even bother to ponder why that popped up. She remembered saying the same thing in the 1880s.
Celeste descended down the long, wide steps of St. Paul’s, followed by her two closest friends and their spouses. Every trace of snow and ice had been removed, ensuring a safe passage. The elderly and infirm always had someone to help.
The brisk air caused the three friends to pull their scarves tighter.
“Creighton, dear, I will be home by one,” said Fannie to her husband. “But I did promise to go over to Celeste’s for Juts’s birthday and to see the transformation of the garage.”
He’d already heard all about the St. Patrick’s Day plans.
Fairy Thatcher also bade her husband adieu, with instructions concerning what to tell the cook.
Arm in arm, the three watched the two Rife brothers—Julius and Pole—climb into their father’s 1914 Gräf und Stift.
“I would have thought they’d have sold the car. Cars are much improved now,” Celeste remarked.
“Slow. They’re taking everything slowly,” Fairy remarked. “And the investigation into Brutus’s demise is slow.”
“Slow, as in slowly the Ice Age ended,” Fannie remarked with a smile. “No one really cares, including Brutus’s wife or three sisters. Older than dirt, those three. I don’t even think his sons care their daddy’s dead. You know Julius is twenty-one and Pole not far behind. But Julius will take over the businesses. I heard he walked into the canning factory the day after his father died, sat at the desk, and began giving orders.”
“Products of Cassius’s first marriage.” Fairy mentioned Brutus’s father. “Always makes a mess, and Brutus’s sisters aren’t going to challenge the sons. They can’t make money. They only know how to spend it.”
“Which is how they earned the title La Squandra Sisters.”
Celeste shortened her stride, as Fannie’s and Fairy’s legs weren’t as long. “Whatever is done is done. We’re all the better off for it.”
“Quite,” Fairy said as they reached Christ Church. “Remarkable.”
“Hmm.” Fairy nodded as the three watched Patience Horney being led down the marble stairs, carefully guided toward the direction of her mother’s house.
Once at Celeste’s, Cora set the table with both daughters’ help. Ev Most, Orrie, and Paul also assisted. A large birthday cake was brought out from the kitchen.
“Devil’s food!” Juts exclaimed, her favorite.
Fifteen candles circled the outside, which she quickly blew out.
As they accepted their plates, Fannie pleaded, “Not so big, Cora, remember I must go home to Sunday dinner.”
“Me, too,” Fairy added, but she could have devoured the whole cake, she was so thin.
A tray with wrapped gifts awaited Juts.
Louise gave her a pale pink sweater. “Spring has to come, Juts.”
“It’s beautiful,” her sister gushed.
Ev gave her a belt, Orrie a small bottle of perfume. Paul, with Louise’s guidance, had gotten Juts a box of good pencils, a pencil trimmer, and a tablet. Celeste gave her a lovely pair of pearl earrings.
“Mrs. Chalfonte, they glow!” Juts allowed her friends to inspect the box.
Celeste smiled. “You’re old enough for pearls now.”
Fannie gave her a box of embroidered handkerchiefs, while Fairy provided a thin spring scarf in pale green that would pair nicely with the sweater.
Obviously, everyone had conferred.
Fannie listened as the clock struck twelve thirty. “This is more fun than Sunday dinner. I hate to leave.”
“Me, too,” Fairy agreed.
“You create glorious Sunday dinners,” Celeste added. “Both of you.”
“Yes, well, every shirttail cousin of my esteemed husband appears. Every Sunday, it’s the miracle of the loaves and fishes.” Fannie stood up, shoulders squared.
Fairy giggled. “Well, it’s a good thing you attend services every Sunday. Prayer will help.”
“Is there a saint for freeloaders? That’s to whom I should address my heartfelt requests.” Fannie smiled wryly.
Fairy turned to Louise and Julia. “Girls, if you can possibly marry a man light in the relative department, the marriage will not suffer. You’ll endure less strain.”
“My God, the Creightons are the most fertile people in the Mid-Atlantic. Therein lies your true genius, Celeste. You avoided all this.” Fannie laughed.
Fairy, smiling, reminded them, “She does have three surviving siblings, two nephews, and a third niece or nephew on the way.”
“Fortunately, we don’t live close, and Margaret”—Celeste named Stirling’s wife—“can’t stand me. It’s mutual.”
“Isn’t that Olivia Goldoni a prize?” Fannie regretted this the minute it flew out of her mouth and hastily amended it for the young people. “Thinking of Ramelle’s child made me think of that beautiful voice at the ceremony.”
Juts, Louise, Ev, and Orrie took that at face value. It wouldn’t have occurred to them even to think that someone as old as Stirling might have a romantic life.
Fannie and Fairy kissed Juts on the cheek, promising to come back later in the week to see the figures she’d made with her classmates.
As they walked down the steps and out to the graceful gate, Fannie Jump’s car awaited them.
“Fairy, dear, I’ll drop you home.”
They settled in the rear of the cavernous vehicle, her driver at the wheel.
“I told Mr. Thatcher”—as Fairy called her husband—“I’m going to learn how to drive.”
“Really?” Fannie registered surprise.
“I want to come and go as I please. Mr. Thatcher swears an automobile is too much for a woman to hold on the road. He tells me they are hard to steer. Well, perhaps, but I can hold a twelve-hundred-pound Thoroughbred in the hunt field. I am going to do it.”
“That’s so thrilling.” Fannie looked out the window as beautiful pre-Revolutionary then post-Revolutionary homes glided by. “I don’t know if we’ll ever hunt again. What a terrible winter.”
“Has been.”
They rode in silence then Fannie Jump, burrowing down in a fur throw, voice low, said, “Celeste is lonely. She’s always been social and a charming hostess, but now she likes people in the house. My first clue was when she allowed the kids to use her garage.”
“They were unusual circumstances.”
“Fairy, I would have paid good money to see Juts smash that glue pot onto Dimps Jr.’s bosom. Those two girls are being groomed to be courtesans, I tell you.”
“It does give me pause.” Fairy turned to her old classmate. “What else can they hope for? They aren’t well-born, I mean, the Rhodes are respectable enough but neither of those girls is going to land a rich young man. At least I don’t think so. For one thing, where will they meet them? They aren’t going to be presented to society.”
“Big Dimps will find those demimonde places. Trust me, Fairy, she is relentless.”
“All she’s doing is making up for her own discomforts. You see that so much with parents, do you not?”
“You do, and I hope I’m not one of them.”
“You raised your boys with benign neglect.” Fairy smiled.
Ignoring this, Fannie asked, “Now really, truly honestly, are you going to learn to drive?”
“I am. You will be my first passenger.”
Fannie Jump wondered if that was a good idea. Nonetheless she returned to her topic. “I thought I would take Celeste into Baltimore with me. The symphony is playing a Russian-themed night. Why I don’t know. There is no more Russia. Baltimore has some treasures. Philadelphia is too far away and Washington is dead, just dead. The real reason our government is there is that there’s little temptation.”
“I expect there’s enough without the arts.” Fairy smiled. “Thinking on Celeste, she says she receives a letter almost every day from Ramelle and she writes one as well. The baby is due early May. Actually, I think Celeste is doing well.”
“But not well enough. She likes sports. I was thinking about getting a few tickets for the Orioles. The season’s not far off, she likes baseball.”
“You can try it.”
“And those boys need jobs. They make so little that if she becomes enthused perhaps she can twist Stirling’s arm to find work for them in his various endeavors.”
Fairy turned to smile at Fannie Jump. “There, it’s settled then.”
What wasn’t settled was Juts’s announcement as she and Louise were clearing the table.
“Now that I’m fifteen, I’m going to quit school.”
“You can’t do that.” Louise placed the dessert plates in the sink of hot water.
“Yes I can.”
“A high school diploma helps you get better jobs.” Louise pushed open the kitchen door, which swung behind her as she went out to find Paul in the library.
“Reading?”
He put the book down. “I’ve never seen such beautiful books. The bindings, the colors, the gold stamping or silver. It must be a fortune in books.”
“It is.” Louise took his arm. “Come on, let me show you what they’re making for the dance.” As she propelled Paul toward the side door and out onto the arcade, she said to Juts, “Don’t say anything to Momma. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“We have to prepare her.”
Juts glowed. “Wheezie, that means you agree.”
“Maybe. You need to finish out the year.”
“No, I don’t.”
“A tenth-grade education is better than a ninth-grade and really, Juts, you have to finish out the year to get even with Dimps.”