Mrs. Marple, the Eden postmistress, knew something was up on Saturday morning when the cream-colored envelopes, all alike, poured out of the mail sack from Indian River. She fingered them curiously, noted that just about everyone from Indian River to Vegan was going to get one, then began sorting them. When she found hers, she sat down to open it. This is what she read:
OPEN HOUSE
ANNE HARRIS AND MATILDA AND HAYDEN ELKINS
REQUEST THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY
AT A HOUSEWARMING
SEVEN P.M. NOVEMBER 10TH
AT THE ELKINS RESIDENCE.
PLEASE BRING A COVERED DISH.
“Good heavens!” Mrs. Marple exclaimed. “That’s tonight!”
She went back to sorting letters, but her mind was on what dish she could prepare quickly when she went home that evening.
Mrs. Eufala Davis found her invitation in her box at the post office. She read it in stunned amazement. Then she showed it to the postmistress.
“Great Scott, Mrs. Marple! They’ve lost their minds at the Elkins household. Poor Matilda has been under a terrific strain; her mind must have snapped.”
“Like a dry twig,” Mrs. Marple agreed, shaking her head. “I’m thinking of taking a zucchini casserole.”
“Oh, horrible! Horrible! Never in my life have I heard of anything like it! Man, wife and mistress—holding an open house to flaunt their sinful arrangements. A brazen, notorious, shameless ménage à trois right here in the Eden country! It is just too much! Too much!”
Ignoring the social commentary, Mrs. Marple asked pointedly, “Are you going?”
The question brought Eufala Davis back to earth. “I’ll have to talk it over with Henry, of course. The invitation was addressed to both of us and I couldn’t go without him. We may have to go, you see—it may be our Christian duty.”
“I understand.”
“Henry will know.”
“I’ll see you there, Eufala,” Mrs. Marple said, and went back to sorting mail.
Eufala Davis had just gotten through the door of her house when the telephone rang.
“Eufala, this is Twila Wilfred. You will never believe what I received in the mail this morning!”
“An invitation to an open house at the Elkinses’.”
“You received one, too?”
“Oh, yes. Isn’t it dreadful?”
“Never have I heard of a man behaving like Hayden Elkins. And he looks so normal, so innocent.”
“Oh, he’s wicked, Twila. Wicked. He didn’t just take a mistress, he acquired a concubine.”
“I thought they did that only in China. Idol worshipers and such.”
“And here, too, in Eden,” Mrs. Davis boomed triumphantly. “Who would have thought Hayden Elkins capable of such depravity? You can never tell by looks, Twila,” Mrs. Davis continued, answering her own rhetorical question. “Men can carry evil in their hearts for years, then suddenly, boom! Some little thing causes the foul seed to sprout. Something like a dirty picture. That’s why I am so careful to keep suggestive movies and magazines away from Henry.”
“You are so wise, Eufala. Are you going tonight?”
“I must talk to Henry and—”
“I’m going,” the widow Wilfred said with conviction. “I’m going to ask Mr. Murphy to take me.”
“Elijah Murphy?” said Eufala Davis, aghast.
“Yes, Eufala. Elijah and I have become friends.”
Mrs. Davis spluttered, but finally she got it out. “But he drinks!”
“He has yielded to temptation in the past and may again in the future,” the widow Wilfred admitted.
“Wallowed in it, you mean,” Eufala shot back.
The widow Wilfred steamed on undaunted. “He’s trying. And he’s a gentleman at heart. I’ll see you at the Elkinses’.” She hung up then, leaving Eufala Davis so stunned that a long moment passed before she remembered to put the telephone back on its cradle.
She was trying to decide what dish she should prepare for the evening when it occurred to her that a food question would be an excellent pretext for a call to Matilda. If indeed the poor woman had gone off her nut, the paramedics might even now be taking her away in a straitjacket.
She dialed the telephone and waited expectantly.
“Good morning.”
“This is Eufala Davis, Matilda.”
“How are you?”
“Fine, thank you. I was wondering what dish I could bring tonight. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Tonight? What’s tonight?”
“Why, the open house!”
“What open house?” The surprise in Matilda’s voice seemed genuine.
“Matilda, don’t tell me you don’t know? I received an invitation in the mail this morning to attend an open house—a ‘housewarming’—at your house. Tonight. Seven o’clock.”
“We didn’t send—”
“Twila Wilfred got one and so did Mrs. Marple.”
Matilda was speechless.
“I’ll have to discuss it with Henry,” Mrs. Davis went on, “but I’m sure he—”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Matilda Elkins said. “I wonder who else got those invitations.”
“Well, I’m sure I don’t know. You might call Mrs. Marple at the post office.”
“I believe I will. Thank you.” And Matilda hung up.
Mrs. Marple’s answer left Matilda Elkins gasping for air. “I believe almost everyone between Indian River and Vegan got them, Mrs. Elkins. There were sixty or seventy of those cream envelopes.”
“Sixty—”
“Or seventy.”
Matilda took several deep breaths while she processed the information.
“A covered dish affair tonight at seven o’clock,” Mrs. Marple volunteered. “Didn’t you send the invitations?”
“No, I didn’t,” Matilda replied, and reached a sudden decision. “But we’ll see you tonight. You are coming, aren’t you?”
“Well, only if—”
“At seven, then. Good-bye.”
After she hung up the telephone, Matilda called loudly, “Billy Joe! Billy Joe Elkins!” Thank goodness it was Saturday and he wasn’t in school. “Come down here now!”
The scion of the clan came into the kitchen wearing a sheepish grin. That look spoke volumes to his mother. “Want to tell me about it, or am I supposed to be surprised tonight?”
“Uh, tonight would be just fine.”
“How many invitations did you send?”
“One hundred.” When his mother reached for the counter to steady herself, Billy Joe added, “They won’t all come, of course.”
After a long moment and several deep breaths, Matilda asked, “How much money do you have in your bank account?”
“About three hundred dollars, I think.”
“I suggest you withdraw it from the bank and use it to buy soft drinks for all these people. A half dozen cases should do it, I hope. Fortunately we have several cases of beer in the basement and some wine. We’ll also need paper plates, plastic knives and forks, disposable glasses, napkins, and garbage bags.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“This wasn’t a nice thing you did, Billy Joe.”
“I think it’s time you and Dad and Anne Harris got your personal lives straightened out.”
“I think you are a foolish young man sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” his mother replied tartly. “But we’ll discuss it later. Go to the bank, get your money and buy those things.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Eufala Davis settled on lasagna as her dish for the evening. After checking her refrigerator and cupboards, she donned a jacket and dashed across the road to Doolin’s store. As usual, Lula Grimes was behind the register. When Eufala had selected the items she needed, she brought them to the counter.
“I haven’t talked to Henry yet,” she confided to Lula, “but I suspect he will insist we attend the Elkinses’ open house.”
“What open house?”
Eufala became flustered. “Why, I just assumed you and Moses were invited. I hope I haven’t committed a social…Oh, there it is! In your mail.” She pointed triumphantly at the stack of mail lying on the counter near the register.
The postman had delivered the mail a few minutes ago. On top of the stack were two cream-colored envelopes, one addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Moses Grimes, the other to Junior. Lula picked up hers and tore it open.
“See!” Eufala said, greatly relieved. “I just knew that you would be included. So embarrassing…”
As Lula stared at the invitation, she only half-listened to Eufala prattling on, but when she heard these words, they sank in:
“…so I called poor Matilda, and—this is so hard to understand—I do believe that poor, harried woman had no idea these invitations had been sent. I just can’t imagine how they would have gone out—printed invitations, no less—without her knowledge. Why, I think the poor thing must have forgotten! Isn’t that extraordinary!”
“Junior!” Lula roared.
The vocal blast stunned Eufala, who spilled the contents of her purse upon the counter.
Lula marched in the direction of the garage. “Junior Grimes! Get—in—here—now!”
She met him coming through the door from the garage and fluttered the invitation in his face. “Did you do this?”
“Do what?” Junior reached for the invitation and read it. He wasn’t a fast reader, so this took a moment.
“Matilda Elkins didn’t know about this. Did you and Arch cook this up?”
“No, Mom,” Junior said. “Sounds like it’s going to be a good party, though.” He beamed at her. It was pleasant, for a change, to be wrongly accused.
Relieved, Lula Grimes sighed and marched back through the store.
“Can I go, too?” Junior called at her back.
“There’s an invitation for you by the register.” She heard him clumping along behind her, so she whirled about. “I expect you to be on good behavior tonight. Don’t let Arch Stehlik talk you into anything.”
“Mom, I—”
“Man the register for a moment while I speak to the cook. I’ll have her prepare a couple of meat loaves.”
“Sure, Mom,” Junior said. He grinned broadly at Mrs. Davis, who was getting the last of her things repacked in her purse.
“An open house,” he declared. “Sounds like quite a party. Guess we’ll get the lowdown on con-jew-gal arrangements among the quality folk, eh, Miz Davis?”
The minister’s wife flushed.
“Since I’m sorta short on girlfriends at the moment, I wonder if you would like to go as my date?”
“I’m married to a minister, Mr. Junior Grimes. I don’t think that remark the least bit funny.”
“Oh, Henry can come along, too, Miz Davis. It’s the modern age we’re living in.”
The guests came all in a rush, a flood of people that milled through the rooms of the house and filled it to brimming. Billy Joe and Melanie acted as official greeters, standing on the porch welcoming people, who queued up with their food dishes to get through the front door. Ruth Harris was one of the first to arrive. She didn’t go into the house but joined Billy Joe and Melanie shaking hands on the porch.
“Where’s your dad, son?” Judge Lester Storm asked loudly as he climbed the stairs, bypassing the line of guests bearing food.
“He’s in the den, I believe, sir.”
“Into the sauce already, is he?” Lester said. He nodded at the ladies and went inside.
Melanie eyed the endless stream of cars creeping up the driveway and parking on the lawn with a growing sense of impending doom. Finally she said, “It looks as if everyone we invited is coming, Billy Joe, and they’re bringing their whole families!”
“Looks like it. This will be the social event of the year.”
“Oooh, we shouldn’t have done this,” Melanie said.
“Relax,” Ruth Harris said calmly. “It will work out. Life always does. You’ll see.”
“Mr. Elkins is going to be so mad,” Melanie insisted.
Billy Joe wasn’t worried. “Hello, Mrs. Davis, Reverend Davis, Mr. Kline, come right on in…”
In the living room Judge Storm saw the very last person in Indian River County that he would have expected to find at a social event: Elijah Murphy. The little man was standing rather forlornly against one wall watching people file in bearing plates of food.
“Murphy, how are you?” the judge asked in his usual courtroom voice. He stopped in front of his perennial defendant.
“Dry, Your Honor. Desperately dry.”
“Hmmm,” said the judge, who noticed that Murphy didn’t look as grimy as usual. His color was better, and…the judge realized with a start that Murphy didn’t have a hangover. In fact, he was clean shaven and had even invested in a haircut at some time in the not-too-distant past. His suit wasn’t from Brooks Brothers, but it was clean and pressed.
Judge Storm was so taken with Elijah Murphy’s appearance that he reached out and straightened his jacket for him. “Murphy, you look so good that a fellow might think you’re a candidate for office.”
“I’m on the wagon, Judge. Only fell off once since you jugged me in September.”
The surprise showed on Lester Storm’s face. He reached for Murphy’s hand and shook it vigorously. He was still pumping when a lady beside him said, “How are you, Judge Storm?”
“You know the widow Wilfred, don’t you, Judge?” Murphy asked, pulling his hand from Storm’s grasp.
The jurist surveyed the lady in wonder. “Why, yes. I believe I do. Mrs. Wilfred, good to see you again. Very good to see you again. Out and about on this festive occasion.” He kept rambling because the widow Wilfred slipped her hand into the crook of Murphy’s arm and stood smiling benignly, looking quite pleased with life.
“Extraordinary how life works out,” the judge continued, still taking in the couple standing before him. “Astounding, really. The human parade never ceases to fascinate me, with all its infinite possibilities…and…”
“You must try the stuffed peppers I brought this evening,” the widow Wilfred said as the judge ran down. “Elijah enjoys them immensely.”
“She’s a great cook,” Murphy said.
“Yes, I’m certain of it.” Lester Storm shook Murphy’s hand one last time, smiled at the beaming widow, and moved on, in the direction of the den.
The house was not small, but the people filled it. They stood in the kitchen, the living and dining rooms, the stairs and hallways, the bedrooms, the basement, spilled over into the heated garage and the unheated porch, even the lawn. And they all seemed to be having a fine time. The crowd kept circulating past the dining room table, which had every square inch covered with dishes containing food. As fast as one dish emptied, Matilda or Anne shuttled in another from the kitchen, which was also full of people talking, laughing and visiting.
Diamond and Crystal Ice were standing together balancing paper plates in their hands when Richard Hudson found them. “I need a word with you ladies,” he said over the hubbub, part of which consisted of music blaring from Billy Joe’s sound system.
Neither woman smiled.
“I owe you both an apology.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Crystal said, and concentrated on worrying some meat off a chicken leg with a fork.
“I think he’s changed his mind. He wants both of us,” Diamond remarked, addressing her sister. “Or maybe only one. Shall we flip for him or fight a duel?”
“I guess I deserve this,” Hudson said contritely.
Crystal worked on her chicken without looking up. “And we were desolate, heartbroken, wondering if it was worthwhile to go on living.”
“Wondering if life held any tender thing to heal our rejected, scorned, scarred hearts.”
“What would Prince Ziad do in this situation?” Crystal asked her sister.
“He would sweep the lady off her feet, kiss her passionately, and tell her that the gods have willed it.”
“Really?”
“It always works. Passion sweeps away all vestiges of ladylike restraint.”
“Perhaps that will work for you,” Crystal said to Hudson. She laid her paper plate on the bookcase behind her and spread her arms. “Try me.”
“I deserve that. I’m sorry. I fibbed to you the other day when I told you I had fallen for Mrs. Carcano. That wasn’t really true. I—” He took a deep breath. “I lied.”
Diamond’s left eyebrow rose into an arch. Crystal lowered her arms and retrieved her plate.
Hudson continued, “But to tell the truth—”
“By all means. The whole truth and nothing but.”
“The truth is that, since then, I have sort of…developed a very tender feeling for her.”
Crystal giggled.
“Does she know?” Diamond asked.
“No,” Hudson confessed, and blushed. He turned and looked shyly across the room at Cecile Carcano, who was standing with her daughter talking to Matilda Elkins. Diamond and Crystal glanced at each other knowingly.
Just then Junior Grimes joined the group. “Hudson, what are you doin’?”
“Nothing much, Junior. Nothing much.”
“Like hell. You’re breaking my woman’s heart, that’s what you’re doin’. I oughta pop you one.”
Diamond latched on to Junior’s right arm. “Behave yourself, Junior Grimes.”
“This man,” Hudson said, “is the Prince Ziad of Eden.”
“I know,” Diamond replied, and grinned luxuriously. She reached up and rumpled Junior’s hair.
“Who’s this Prince guy? The rock star?” Junior asked.
“Junior’s a real live hero and he’s mine,” Diamond said, and led him away.
When they were in a corner with no one obviously eavesdropping, Junior said, “I want to ask you an important question, Di, so I do. Real important. I been working up to this for a long time, but I’m not going to ask it if you’re still moping over Hudson like a lovesick puppy, so I’m not.”
“You may ask, my prince.”
“Does that mean that you and he…?”
“He’s in love with Mrs. Carcano.”
“Huh! I’ll be…” Junior scratched his head, then brightened. “Don’t that beat all! Well, she’s a fine lady and he’s a good fella.”
“And you were going to ask…”
“Oh. Maybe it should wait. Tonight isn’t—”
“Now, Junior. Or never.”
It took him a moment to work up his courage, a moment during which his face muscles contorted spasmodically. As Diamond well knew, every emotion Junior ever felt shot from his brain to his face in a nanosecond, which was, she thought, one of his many charms. A poker player he would never be. Nor a liar.
Finally he got it out. “Will you marry me, Diamond Ice?”
“With a wedding, and flowers and music and a honeymoon and a home of our own?”
“Sure. All of that. Maybe even a rug rat or two. I always thought you’d make a fine mother if you put your mind to it.”
She lowered her head a moment, and when she raised it to face him again, she said, “You aren’t the smartest man I’ve ever met, Junior Grimes, but I think you have the biggest heart. I have never met a man who cared more about other people than you do. I will be honored to be your wife, and I will love you all my life.”
Junior let out a shout. When everyone turned to look, he laughed and pointed to Diamond. “She said yes,” he announced loudly. He lifted her from the floor and kissed her.
When they broke for air, Junior suggested, “Let’s go see when Mrs. Carcano can tie the knot.”
“Looks as if you are gaining a brother-in-law,” Richard Hudson said to Crystal, who winked at him and grinned broadly.
Sheriff Arleigh Tate found Hayden Elkins in the den sharing a drink with Judge Lester Storm, who had apparently already had two or three. “It’s my very favorite officer of the law,” the jurist declared. “Welcome to the inner sanctum. Close the door, Tate, and tell us about crime.”
“What will you have, Sheriff?”
“Bourbon on ice, Hayden. What about crime don’t you know, Judge?”
“I heard a rumor, Tate. Strictly a rumor. Don’t know that there’s a word of truth in it, but I heard that Delmar Clay was mired in the quicksand of a delicate situation before you fired him.”
Arleigh Tate tested his drink, then settled into one of the prosecutor’s overstuffed chairs. He flipped a hand in acknowledgment.
“Don’t really want to know all the official details, of course,” Judge Storm continued. “Some of these people might be in front of the bench one day. I’ll weigh the evidence then as it is presented. However, I think that tonight, with just the three of us sharing this fine whiskey, we might in good conscience indulge ourselves with a few unsworn, unsubstantiated, vicious idle rumors.”
“Sounds safe enough,” Arleigh Tate agreed. “Heard any lately?”
“Well, like I said, I have heard this tale about your boy Delmar, the most hated man in the county. I heard that someone caught him in flagrante delicto with a woman not his wife and shot him in the ass. You heard anything along those lines, Sheriff?”
“I’m not strong on Latin,” Arleigh Tate said cautiously. “But I did hear that Delmar was caught with his pants down, so to speak, and suffered some birdshot damage to his derriere.”
“French, no less,” the judge said gaily to the prosecutor, and held out his glass for more whiskey. “The thing I find uncanny, Hayden, is that Tate knows literally everything. Everything! He is everywhere, sees everything, hears everything—he’s sort of an unfrocked angel, if you will. For example, let me ask him this: What is the name of the lady with whom Delmar was dallying?”
“Strictly rumor, Judge. Don’t want to compromise a lady’s reputation, you know.”
“I understand completely. You’re among friends, and your words will not be repeated, so rumor away.”
“Diamond Ice.”
“Verlin’s daughter?”
“One of the twins.”
The judge sipped and pondered. After a moment he asked, “And which of our local gentlemen stroked the trigger?”
Arleigh Tate looked quizzically at the prosecutor. “Have you heard anything about this, counselor?”
“I represent Mrs. Clay in her divorce action. I knew there was another woman, but Mrs. Clay didn’t know who it was. This is the first I’ve heard about a shooting.”
“You didn’t hear it here. Promise me.”
“We’re just discussing rumors.”
“No, I need a promise. When you walk out that door, you haven’t heard this.”
“All right.”
“Your son shot Delmar.”
Hayden Elkins’ glass, which thankfully was nearly empty, slipped from numb fingers. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Billy Joe? Are you sure?”
“I was there. Saw him do it. Shot Delmar twice, as a matter of fact, when he was naked as a jaybird on a Sunday morning in May. Bang, bang, right in the gluteus, where it would do the maximus good.”
Lester Storm lost himself in laughter. When he regained control, he apologized. “This is my last drink, gents. Go ahead, Arleigh, tell it all. I’ll try to keep a grip.”
Sheriff Tate settled himself deeper into his chair. “This incident started some weeks ago when Billy Joe and his girlfriend, Melanie Naroditsky, decided the time had come to consummate their relationship…”
“Would you care to dance, Mrs. Wilfred?”
“I didn’t know you danced, Mr. Murphy. When did you acquire that skill?”
“Oh, way back there, years and years ago. They say it’s something you never forget, like riding a bicycle.”
The dance floor was the living room. Billy Joe, Melanie and Ruth had pushed back the furniture, and now Billy Joe was playing slow tunes on his sound system. Elijah Murphy led Mrs. Wilfred out into the middle of the area, where he slipped his right arm behind her and took her hand in his. “Where did you learn?” she asked.
“My mother taught me.”
“Did you love your mother, Mr. Murphy?”
“Oh, yes. Desperately. In fact, I think she was the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
“If a boy doesn’t love his mother, he can’t love another woman, Mr. Murphy. That’s a natural fact.”
“How much longer are we going to keep calling each other Mr. Murphy and Mrs. Wilfred?”
“I don’t know. I sort of like it. It’s formal, polite, very how-do-you-do. Do you think we should drop it on informal occasions, Elijah?”
“I do, Twila. On most occasions.”
“You’re a good dancer, Elijah.”
“My mother called me Eli.”
“Eli.”
He smiled at her. He had a fine smile, she thought. She rested her head on his shoulder and concentrated on the music.
Across the room Junior was breaking the news to his future mother-in-law. “Diamond finally broke down and agreed to become an honest woman, Miz Ice. The preacher lady says she can tie the knot three Sundays from now.”
“You’re sure now, are you, Junior?”
“Yes, Miz Ice, I think I know my own mind. Just had to work my way up to all the responsibility. That can take some doin’, you know.”
“If you make her as good a husband as Verlin has been to me, she will be truly blessed.”
“I’ll try my best, Miz Ice,” Junior said humbly. “I really will.”
In the den, behind closed doors, Arleigh Tate was winding up his story. “The problem, of course, was always Mrs. Clay’s extended family, to whom I had made numerous promises in return for political support. Their enthusiasm for Delmar evaporated when Mrs. Clay told them about the photographs and announced she was divorcing him.”
Hayden Elkins had listened to Sheriff Tate’s recitation in silence. He sat now contemplating his shoes and thinking about his son, Billy Joe.
Arleigh Tate seemed to read his thoughts. “Your son is growing up, Hayden.”
“Yes,” the prosecutor answered absently. “Yes, I think he is.”
“At some point in every man’s life,” Arleigh continued, “he must learn to stand up for what he knows to be right. We all make mistakes, and Billy Joe has probably made all the mistakes you and I made when we were his age. Yet he decided that he was going to ensure Delmar got precisely what he deserved, and he didn’t much give a damn who found out about it. The boy knew I was going to be there—Junior told him. He went anyway. He dusted Delmar’s butt with a twelve-gauge when opportunity offered. Then he stood, put the gun over his shoulder, and walked back across the ridge as if he were just out for a stroll in the woods. I could almost hear him saying, ‘If you want me, Sheriff, you know where to find me.’ I liked that, Hayden. Liked it a lot.”
“He is growing up,” Billy Joe’s father agreed.
“I’d take him any day for a son of mine. The boy has class.”
“Yes,” Hayden agreed thoughtfully. “Perhaps more class than his father does.”
“There’s something in the Good Book,” Judge Storm said slowly, “about the children teaching the parents.”
“The truth is,” the sheriff said, “I should have fired Delmar Clay several years ago when I found out what a poor law officer he was. Shouldn’t have waited for Diamond Ice to do me a favor, shouldn’t have let Delmar make a boy feel that he had to shoulder a gun to protect a girl’s honor. We all live and learn.”
“I’ve changed my mind, Hayden,” Judge Storm rumbled. “I will have one more drink.”
“Mom, Diamond is going to be your daughter-in-law” was the way Junior broke the news to his parents when he found them in the kitchen talking to J. S. Kline.
“When, Junior?” his mother asked. “I’ve waited a good many years on you and I don’t know if I have much more wait left in me.”
“Three Sundays from now. Mrs. Carcano is going to tie the knot in the Eden Chapel.”
Lula Grimes seized Diamond and hugged her fiercely as Moses Grimes pounded Junior on the back and shook his hand. J. S. Kline reached in for a hearty handshake, too.
“You did it!” Lula whispered to Diamond. “You did it!”
“I’ll be a good wife, Mother Grimes.”
“I know you will, Di.” She faced Junior. “I want grandchildren, son of mine. Girls and boys. Especially girls.” Her face clouded up. “I think I’m going to cry.”
“Not now, Mom,” Junior told her, and gathered her into his arms. “Do it at the wedding. You and Miz Ice can bawl your hearts out then if you want to.”
“I’ll bring along plenty of hankies,” Moses Grimes said, and threw back his head and laughed.
The party was in full swing when Ed Harris arrived. He managed to squeeze through the front door. The crowd inside was elbow to elbow. There were so many people that it took him a few moments to spot her. She was behind the dining room table, which was still heaped with food. She was talking to someone—and looking straight at him.
He moved, sliding between people, murmuring greetings, nodding, here and there shaking a hand, yet whenever he looked, she still had her eyes on him.
He bumped into someone and mumbled, “Excuse me.”
“Is that the best you can do, Dad?”
“Ruth! What are you doing here?”
“I received an express invitation from the organizers of the party, Billy Joe and Melanie Naroditsky. I was so excited about the prospect of seeing Mom’s new home that I dropped everything and rushed over.”
“And how is everything at the university?”
“I need some money. That is the other reason I came.”
“What do you spend it all on, anyway?”
“Women today pay their own way, Dad. It’s sexist to expect the man to pick up the check. And I have an active social life. Very active.”
“Hmm.” Anne was still watching him. Her eyes met his whenever people moved out of the way.
“Will you dance with me?” his daughter asked.
“I’d be delighted.”
The dance floor was crowded, with five or six couples dancing to Sinatra. Ed and Ruth joined them.
“Remember when I taught you to dance like this?”
“For my fourth-grade Christmas party. After you sent me to bed, you and Mother danced for hours.”
“How do you know that?”
“I watched from the stairs.”
“I love you, Ruth,” he told her.
“I know you do, Dad. And I love you.”
When the music was over, Ed Harris kissed his daughter on her forehead. Anne’s eyes were still locked on him.
He walked toward the eyes, which never wavered. “May I have the next dance?”
She smiled and gave him her hand.
As they danced she murmured, “Here to check out the ladies?”
“Since I’m semisingle, I thought I should get back into circulation. Are there any semiattached females here tonight to whom I should pay particular attention?”
“Only this one.”
It was good to be holding her again, good to smell the aroma of her cologne, feel the firmness of her back, feel her warmth, the touch of her hand, her presence, bask in her aura. When the first tune was over, he held her lightly until the next one began. And the next. And the next.
Finally he said, “Are you ready to go home?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
They didn’t even stop to get their coats.
“Hello, I’m Ruth Harris.” She stuck out her hand.
Trooper Sam Neely took it and told her his name.
“You’re new around here.”
“Got here in September. Just getting to know people, trying to remember names.”
“If you’d like to know me better, you could dance with me.”
“I don’t know how to dance,” Sam Neely confessed.
“It’s easy,” Ruth assured him, and led him to the center of the living room. After a few minutes he seemed to have the box step mastered to the point that he could talk and dance, too, so she asked, “Which of the local girls do you have your eye on?”
“You’re a very forward young woman, aren’t you?”
“I’m a child of our age, Mr. Neely, liberated from the dull, stale, tired conventions that frustrated women throughout history.”
“How do you know they were frustrated?”
Ruth laughed. “That is the weak point in the argument, isn’t it?” She pressed herself a little closer to him and examined the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
A warm feeling had flooded through her a few moments ago when she watched her parents slip away. And they thought no one was paying attention. Loving your parents was painful when they had their rocky episodes—and so delicious when life went right.
Ah, she thought, if only I can find a man who loves me as much as Dad loves Mom. If only…
“I believe Goofy is outside looking in the window,” Cecile Carcano whispered to Minnie Ice. She had found the lady at the breakfast nook in the kitchen and slid into the booth beside her.
“He does that,” Mrs. Ice said solemnly. “He can’t help himself. It isn’t Christian, I know, but I don’t think he does anybody any harm.”
“Why don’t you bring him inside?”
“We did, when we came tonight. He slipped away from me and went out. He feels more comfortable outside looking in, I guess.”
“What is Goofy’s last name, Mrs. Ice?”
“Well, I don’t rightly know.” Minnie lowered her voice so much that it was almost lost in the hum of conversation washing over them. Cecile Carcano had to lean close to hear.
“When he was born I put Verlin’s name down as the father, but he wasn’t. It was a fellow selling lightning rods. I ran off with him and came home pregnant, and Verlin pretended it never happened. He lets everyone think that Goofy is his boy by some woman he had an affair with. But he never had an affair.”
She looked at Mrs. Carcano. “There, I’ve told it. Never could for all these years. Been wanting to tell someone who would understand. I can’t take it to the grave by myself. Someone else has to know.”
Cecile Carcano touched Minnie’s cheek. “Verlin always knew,” she whispered in Mrs. Ice’s ear. “And he forgave you. Surely God will be as understanding as your husband.”
“I don’t know. Verlin loves me. Always has.”
Junior found Arch Stehlik in the front yard under a large pine tree watching snow fall into the lights. Goofy was standing on his cinder blocks looking into the living room window.
“Nice party, eh?” Junior said.
“I saw the Harrises slip out a minute ago. They left together in Ed’s car.”
Junior felt good, very good. He slapped his arm around his friend’s shoulder and stuck his tongue out to catch a snowflake.
“Remember that Weingardt girl that lives on Clover Lick?” Junior asked. “Her daddy works for the county?”
“Sort of heavy, not too bright?”
“Yeah. She stopped by the store the other evening, and I got to thinking—”
“Maybe you should give that up.”
“—Got to thinking that she’s actually kind of cute in a chubby sort of way. I kidded her a little, and she admitted that she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
“Oh, no! Don’t start that again!”
“Ol’ Goof needs a girlfriend, Arch. We could—”
“Of all people, June, you should know—women put a terrific strain on a man’s nervous system. Goofy might not be able to handle it.”
“Life’s a dangerous business, Arch. This is worth a try. After all, he’s going to be my brother-in-law.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. I proposed and Diamond accepted, so she did. Three Sundays from tomorrow. Circle it on the calendar and get your suit cleaned. You’re going to be the best man.”
“What is the world coming to?”
“Anyway, I thought maybe a triple date: you, me, Goofy and the girls. What do you say?”
Hours later, after Matilda had said good-bye to the last of the guests, she found Hayden in the kitchen cleaning up. “It was a nice party, wasn’t it?” she said.
“Our neighbors are good people,” Hayden agreed. He finished the pot he was washing, then turned toward her as he dried it. “I’ve been a real horse’s ass the last few months, Matilda, and I owe you an apology. Thanks for sticking by me when I didn’t deserve it.”
He dried his hands and put down the cloth. When he reached for her, she got in close and hugged him. “I love you, Hayden.”
“I love you, too, Matty. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Let’s finish cleaning up in the morning.”
After they turned off most of the downstairs lights, Hayden opened the front door. He and Matilda stood arm in arm watching the snow fall.
“Hey, douse that light.”
“Billy Joe? Are you out here?”
“Yeah.” He and Melanie were sitting in the swing with a blanket around them. “Did you enjoy the party?”
“Indeed we did,” his father said. “When are you taking Melanie home?”
“In a few minutes.”
“When you get back, please lock the door and turn out the rest of the lights.”
“Good night, Mom and Dad.”
“And Billy Joe?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for everything.”