IT FELT ODD TO be at a Harvest for All fundraiser and not be running around like a pebble peeper bird on the beach. Dr. Welby had been true to his word about making nearly all the arrangements. All I had done was place radio ads and make sure we had volunteers to collect the donated canned goods.
Most chairs in the country club's large dining room had been removed, though there were small tables and a few chairs around two sides. Hanging from the ceiling was a large, burro-shaped piñata, which was filled with candy and small toys. I was apprehensive about kids swinging bats or sticks at the burro to open the flood of goodies. Heck, not kids, a couple of the adults.
Scoobie called from the other side of the room. "Yo, Jolie. Time to get your costume on."
I glanced toward him and started to laugh. He left the house after I did, and had been secretive about his costume.
Scoobie was a book. It looked as if he had taken a box that could have held a washing machine and cut it so that it was shorter and not as wide. It had been painted beige and someone had drawn an open book on the front. Only his face showed amid his head gear. As I walked toward him it became clear his head was a light bulb.
"It's really good." I couldn't lean across his box, so I kissed my fingers and touched his cheek.
Scoobie grinned. "I've heard it's hard to read me sometimes, so I thought this might help."
I groaned, and a man's voice behind me said, "Is it something I would want to read?"
Reverend Jamison stood next to me, smiling as he read. The left-hand page had a list of Scoobie's favorite books and the right had one of his poems.
in the fuzzy land
between asleep and awake
homesick dreams
fly with angels
where they were born
they'll never die
so she said...
like indian summer
was almost asleep
serendipity drummer
loud colors creep
memory awaken
future too late
dream not forsaken
well worth the wait
"How come it doesn't have a name?" I asked.
"Because I haven't decided on one, yet," Scoobie said.
Reverend Jamison pointed to the poem. "I like fly with angels."
"You would." Lance Wilson was dressed as a cowboy, complete with chaps and a red bandana around his neck.
"Where did you get that?" I asked, laughing.
"The Internet. Best sixty dollars I ever spent."
Renée's voice came from behind me and I whirled to face her. "Sixty dollars is cheap for an adult costume these days."
"You came! Wow!" Renée had on a very light green, mid-calf length outfit made of tulle, with a petticoat to make it puffy. She had sewn a number of stars on the dress. From their shape it looked as if her daughters had cut them out. Renée’s wand had a large star on one end.
I started to hug my sister, but her daughter Michelle pointed a wand at me and frowned. "You can't hug the queen of the fairies." She and her sister Julia were their mother in miniature, except one wore pink and the other light blue. Julia, who is twenty months older than Michelle’s six years, also raised her wand.
Renée laughed as she spoke. "Sisters can hug."
"Only when they wear their costumes," Michelle said. Ever since she started first grade she’s very sure of her opinions.
"Where is your costume, Aunt Jolie?" Julia asked.
Renée nodded at Reverend Jamison and waved at Scoobie, who said, "Glad you brought your minions."
I looked at my nieces, who were gazing at me intently. "I'm going to get changed now. When I come back you can guess who I am."
"Does it involve a witch's hat?" George asked, from behind me.
"I'm not talking to you," I said, and faced him.
"Ha! You just did." He walked toward Tiffany, who was scribbling in her reporter's notebook.
Renée looked around the room and then at me. "Nice digs. We came early to see if you needed help."
Scoobie and Reverend Jamison, who had handed each of the girls a lollipop, walked off to examine the two large tables that were to hold canned food donations.
"Dr. Welby and Sylvia Parrett thought if we went upscale we'd get some new donors."
Renée lowered her voice. "Can you make money if you spend this much for a room and food?"
"We aren't spending anything. The club donated use of the room, and probably discounted the food. Dr. Welby got a bunch of his doctor pals to donate money for food. Some of them even wrote checks on top of that."
"Wow," she said, and then made a shooing gesture. "Go get changed."
I walked with a light step toward the women's restroom. When I lived in Lakewood, I saw my nieces at least two or three times a month. Though I’d seen them a number of times the last three years, I was no longer a regular part of their lives.
Visits to Ocean Alley required planning, and meant Julia and Michelle would be away from friends and regular activities. Friends are a high priority at their ages. I understood this completely.
It was my fault that we didn’t establish any kind of schedule for aunt-and-niece get togethers. The first few months after my marriage dissolved I was barely fit to take care of myself.
But that was then and this is now. I saw today as the first of many afternoons together. Happy days.
WHEN I GOT BACK TO the party room, there were about fifty people milling around. I stood in the doorway for a moment and watched my younger niece throw a beanbag into a clown's open mouth. It was our only continuing game.
Aunt Madge and Harry had organized a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey game that would start in about half an hour. They had brought several poster-boards of painted donkeys, thinking there would be a lot of players. They had also brought two bulletin boards, about one meter square each, to hang the donkeys on. The poster board and bulletin boards were leaning against one wall for now.
Monica, minus her usual role running the bake sale table, was painting fake tattoos on children. I had no idea she could paint.
A boy walked by me rubbing something off his face. It looked like a bent star. I guess she can't paint.
Food tables had some sugar cookies in Halloween shapes, but most of the food was not sweet, unless you counted the large tray of fruit. There were pretzels, cheese and crackers, and a vegetable plate with dip. I looked at a pile of small plastic storage containers because I couldn't tell what they were. They were only two inches or so in diameter. Closer inspection showed they held Cheerios.
Sylvia appeared to be guarding those, and I complimented her on having something for really little kids.
A donation jar sat near the entrance, but we did not charge an admission fee. What mattered was that two tables were already loaded with canned and boxed food and there were envelopes in the jar. Megan’s daughter Alicia, dressed as a flamingo dancer, was overseeing a couple of her high school classmates as the boys packed boxes. They would be the only older kids here, as our publicity said the party was geared to ages twelve and younger.
Two clowns walked in, each carrying a duffel bag. I had forgotten that we were having clown jugglers to keep kids entertained.
I walked up to the country club employee who was in charge. At least he seemed to be, since he directed the servers who kept tables supplied with food. "Is there, um, something I can do?"
He regarded my tall witch's cap and the cotton bathrobe I had dyed blue and painted with stars. "Who are you?"
"I'm Jolie Gen..."
He grinned. "I meant your costume."
I smiled back. "Hermione from the Harry Potter stories."
"Minus the bushy hair," he said. "Nope, don't need any help. Dr. Welby said you were supposed to relax."
I kind of smirked. "How about Scoobie?"
He frowned slightly. "I'm not sure what Dr. Welby meant when he said he hoped Scoobie didn't pull anything."
We both turned toward the source of a lot of laughter and shrieks from children. Someone in a Darth Vadar costume had arrived. He had rigged up something near his mouth so his breath sounded like the raspy hiss of the movie character.
The country club employee turned to inspect food on the tables, and I stared at the costume. That must have cost a fortune.
Harry walked up to me. "Who's Darth Vader?"
"No idea."
"Do you know if we're having a best costume contest?" Harry asked.
"Hmm. We didn't talk about it at our planning meetings." My eyes wandered to Dr. Welby and Aretha, who were passing out candy they held in plastic pumpkins. "We'd just create losers."
"Good point. I'm the one in charge of keeping track of the numbered donkey darts. I wish we had bought those magnet darts and their boards, but they were awfully expensive." He saw Aunt Madge, who had just come in wearing her Wonder Woman outfit, and walked toward her. I waved to her, and she raised a fist in my direction.
"You did wear a witch's hat."
I turned to face George. "I'm a good witch, and I'm still not talking to you."
"C'mon, Jolie. Max is fine. He thinks it was all a big adventure."
"He could have been kidnapped and he'd be dead by now."
"You need a meeting," George said, and walked away.
I need a meeting? Oh, forgiveness. He was right. My fear for Max had taken over my temperament. I started to follow George, but Renée called my name and I turned to see her on the opposite side of the room. Later, George.
She met me halfway and handed me a tiny cup of candy corn. "Aunt Madge says she and Harry need more help for the donkey tail game than they thought they would. Lots more kids. Can you keep an eye on the girls?"
"Of course. I'll round them up when I hear Aunt Madge or Harry announce the game is starting."
Renée went back toward Aunt Madge and I watched Darth Vadar let kids get enveloped in his cape. He stood at the edge of room, and opened the cape with his light saber. Men and boys seemed most enamored with Darth.
Scoobie caught my eye and gestured with his head that I should come to him. I had no idea how he planned to use his arms today.
"Yo, Jolie," he said. "I have a bunch of bookmarks in a sort of pocket on the spine of my book. Can you make a little sign that says take one?"
I peered at his back. The images on the back were the book’s front and back covers. The spine bore the words "Welcome to Reading." I laughed. Two huge photos were glued to each cover. On the front cover were Aunt Madge's two retrievers. Mr. Rogers bore a scarf that said 'Read' and Miss Piggy had one that said 'Me." Hers was crooked, likely because she had been trying to paw it off. The back cover had Jazz and Pebbles. Jazz was sitting on a book, and Pebbles was smelling it.
"You worked on this for a long time," I said. "I would have helped you."
"I helped, Jolie, I helped."
I turned to see Max, who was dressed as a baker, complete with a puffy top hat. His white coat was probably a lab coat from the hospital. "You look good."
He beamed. "I like sweets. Sweets. Aunt Madge made my hat."
"She did," Scoobie said. Max walked away, and in a lowered voice, Scoobie added, "We did it at his house. George and I thought it would be good if people were seen going in and out."
I felt kind of left out, but George and Scoobie had been doing things together for about fifteen years. No reason they had to include me all the time. Especially when you aren't talking to George.
Using a marker and small piece of paper commandeered from the registration table, I made a sign that said, "Free, take one," and walked back to Scoobie to tape it to the spine of his book. The bookmarks had a pumpkin and the words "Harvest for All," complete with the food pantry address and hours of operation.
"Ladies and gents!" Dr. Welby certainly didn't need the microphone he held. "Madge and Harry and helpers are getting ready to start the Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey game. You can see we have two donkeys, so we'll have two lines. While you wait you can watch our juggling clowns."
He continued with instructions for where the lines would form. About fifty enthusiastic witches, ghosts, spiders, and various action-figure characters started to get in the two lines. Roughly fifty adults, parents I assumed, snapped pictures of the kids from every angle.
Aretha and Daphne walked over to me. "We've been designated, with Megan, to be blindfolded and swing at the piñata." Daphne smiled as she said this. She had accented her cafe-au-lait skin color with peel-off tattoos in the shape of leaves in fall colors.
"Lucky you." I gestured they should walk with me. "I have to keep an eye on my nieces. No guys?"
"Apparently," Aretha grinned, "Dr. Welby and others thought the guys who help most often would be a tad boisterous."
"No kidding," I said, dryly. We had gotten closer to the donkey game. Renée's older daughter had apparently insisted on helping Aunt Madge. While Julia looked busy, Michelle stood to one side looking forlorn.
I waved to her to come to me, and she walked slowly.
Daphne whispered. "I think you're supposed to feel sorry for her."
"Yep." Then I raised my voice and spoke to Michelle. "Come on, I haven't eaten anything yet. Have you?"
"The cookies are great," Aretha said, and held her hand out to Michelle, who immediately went into shy mode and took my hand.
Aretha laughed as the two walked away. Daphne said, "Make sure you try the cookies."
"Yes ma'am," Michelle said.
We filled our plates without talking too much, and moved to an unoccupied table at the edge of the room. We stopped eating a number of times to see why people were shrieking at the donkey game. Usually it meant someone was getting close to the donkey’s back side.
Someone dressed as a striped cat handed Michelle a popcorn ball, and she took it, uncertain what to do. The cat, who had on a full mask, squeaked, "Good popcorn," and walked toward the piñata. Michelle looked up at me, with a questioning expression.
"It's popcorn with syrup or caramel to make the kernels stick together."
"It's wrapped, but it's sticky," she said, and handed the ball to me.
I placed the popcorn ball on the table. "You going to try to pin the tail? It looks like everyone gets a piece of candy or a prize."
She shook her head. "I don't want the blindfold."
"Ah. I don't blame you." We turned our attention to the piñata, and I explained that she would have to move fast to pick up the goodies as they fell.
Lance came to sit with us, and we watched the donkey game wind down. Dr. Welby and George stood under the piñata. George held three sticks, which looked like mop handles, that Aretha, Megan, and Daphne would use to swing, blindfolded, at the paper maché donkey.
Scoobie walked over and stood next to us. "Guess you can't sit down," Lance said to him.
"Nope, but I'm on my feet all day, so I'm used to it." He studied the piñata. "What do you suppose it says that we have jackasses in today’s biggest games?"
"If you mean George..." I began.
"What's a jackass?" Michelle asked.
Scoobie winced. "A sort of impolite term for donkey."
Lance laughed. "Now you did it."
Michelle's expression was very serious. "If you don't say it again, I won't tell my mom."
Scoobie matched her demeanor. Or as much as one can when dressed like a book. "I will not say that again."
"Okay." She slid off her seat. "I need to get ready for the treats."
I stood and looked at Scoobie, smiling. "You got off easy." I nodded toward Michelle. "My job to keep track of her for a bit longer."
As the donkey game ended, most of the guests had migrated to the area not far from the largest of the several doors that led into the room, where the piñata hung from the ceiling. There would have been more room to circle under it in the center of the room, but a huge chandelier hung there. The last thing we needed was to have someone swat it.
Dr. Welby stood on a sturdy wooden box near the piñata and called to me. "Jolie, your turn."
We had agreed that I would thank the attendees at some point, but I had left it to him to decide when. It's always tough to predict how events will flow. I looked at Michelle. "Stay with Scoobie, kiddo."
Michelle nodded, and kept staring at the piñata.
I let Dr. Welby help me onto the box and glanced at the roughly one-hundred-fifty attendees. All but a few of the parents were in costume, too. "Gosh, thank you so much for coming. I bet a lot of you brought cans of food to help neighbors."
A loud boy's voice came from the center of the crowd. "Macaroni and cheese comes in boxes."
I laughed. "It does. I love mac and cheese."
Darth Vadar raised his light saber as if toasting me.
"I won't talk long, because I know you want to see what's inside the piñata." I gestured toward it. "Please remember Harvest for All when you do volunteer projects at school or church. You might think you can't do much, but it's when we all work together that we help the most people. If you want to see what we do, feel free to drop by the pantry at First Presbyterian. The hours are on the bookmarks that Scoobie is distributing." I pointed to him and he turned so that the back book covers and spine faced the crowd. "And thanks again."
George stood next to the soap box and held a hand to help me down. He grinned. "Try not to fall on your tush."
Monica was just behind him. "Oh dear, don't."
I smiled at her. "No worries."
George followed me to where Scoobie and Michelle were standing, not far from Darth Vadar, who was again enveloping little boys in his cloak for a few moments each.
"We’re talking again," I said.
George grinned. "My Halloween treat."
"Don’t let it go to your head," Scoobie said.
I ignored them both and looked at my niece. "Are you excited, Michelle?"
She crooked her finger at me and I bent down to her. "Will it hurt the donkey to get hit?"
"No. It's a pretend donkey. He's mostly made of paper."
Michelle looked relieved. Scoobie met my eyes and raised his eyebrows up and down. Neither one of us wanted her to see us laugh at her question.
Dr. Welby had finished introducing Daphne, Megan, and Aretha, and explained that they would not all swing at the same time because he didn't want them to hit each other.
"Aw, shucks," a boy's voice said, and people laughed.
After five minutes, I could tell the piñata bashing was going to take a while. We should have had a back-up plan. Maybe swinging without the blindfolds after ten minutes.
Another five minutes went by and I realized I hadn't seen Michelle in a couple of minutes. Renée was done with the pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey game, but I had not formally relinquished my duty for eyes on Michelle.
Scoobie was on the other side of the room, talking to Renée. I scanned the crowd and still didn't see Michelle. "George."
He walked to me. "Oh, good, you’re still talking…"
"Do you see Michelle?"
As he began to look into the crowd of squealing children, someone in a pig costume, complete with pig's head, waved a small envelope in front of me. When I took it, the pig squeaked, "Oink," and hurried away.
I was about to stick the envelope in my pocket when George said, very stridently, "Open it."
"I need to keep looking for…"
"Open it," he repeated.
I felt cold all over and my stomach did a flip flop as I tore open the envelope.
The brief note was written in block letters with a black pen. All it said was, "We’ve got the little girl. Go to Java Jolt--alone. After Regan gives you the money, someone will call to tell you where to trade for her. No police."