“Mrs. Delgado said that I get to have someone up on the carriage with me to wave during the parade,” Ben says, cutting into a meatball.
Stacy sprinkles Parmesan cheese onto her spaghetti and Jacob spoons more sauce over his noodles. “That’s awesome!” Stacy says. “You didn’t tell me that part when you called.”
Ben stops eating and puts his fork down. “When Mrs. Delgado told me about that I knew who I wanted to ride with me right away, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“It doesn’t matter which one of us you want to take,” Stacy says. “We’re just crazy excited for you!”
Ben looks down at his food, tapping the fork on his plate. “Really, it’s okay,” Jacob says. “If you want to take your mom or Lucy that’s great.”
“Not me,” Lucy says. “I don’t want to do that!”
“It’s actually not any of you,” Ben says. His words come slowly, as if each one was handpicked.
Stacy and Jacob exchange glances. “A friend from school or work or church is great,” Stacy says. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know her name.”
Lucy slams her fork onto her plate. “Her name? You like a girl? You have a girlfriend?”
“No, I don’t have a girlfriend! She’s not my girlfriend, Lucy!”
Stacy waves her hands in the air. “Okay, okay. It’s all right. How do you know this girl, Ben?”
“She comes into the store.”
“And you think she’s hot!” Lucy says, shoving a huge bite of meatball into her mouth.
“No, I don’t, Lucy!” Ben pushes his palm onto his head and leans on the table.
“Lucy, let him finish,” Stacy says. “Go ahead, Ben.”
Ben keeps his head down, not wanting to look at his sister. “She’s new here and she always looks kind of sad. I thought maybe it would help her feel at home.”
Stacy and Jacob look at one another again and smile. “But you don’t know her name?” Jacob asks.
“There’s never been time to really ask her. You know how busy the store is right now.”
Stacy wipes her hands on a napkin and puts it back in her lap. “I think it’s a great idea! The next time you see her you should ask her. Does she come in every day?”
He shakes his head. “I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“The next time she’s in you just slip away from bagging for a second and ask her,” Jacob says. “But first … ask her what her name is!”
* * *
“Gloria, you cannot send her an e-mail,” Miriam says.
Gloria rises to get more coffee. “Why not? Obviously we got the time wrong again. That’s all.”
Miriam closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Two times in a row? Gloria, can’t you see it? We are just pawns in this girl’s game. For all you know she was outside the windows taking pictures of us.”
“Why in the world would she take pictures of us?”
“To prove to everyone that we’re a couple of patsies.”
Gloria screws up her face, pouring coffee into her cup. “How does a picture of us sitting at Betty’s prove to everyone that we’re a couple of patsies?”
Miriam waves her hand in the air as if erasing everything that Gloria has said. “You never understand anything!”
“No one in all of Grandon would understand what you’re saying. We need to e-mail that young woman!”
Marshall enters the kitchen and raises his voice to get their attention. “Why are you arguing so early this morning?”
“Because she is batty and hardheaded,” Miriam says.
Gloria gives Marshall an imploring look. “Does that even seem possible to you?”
“I’d like to stay married so I’ll plead the fifth on that one.” He slips his coat on and kisses Gloria’s cheek. “I’m headed to the store.” He looks at them. “Should I even ask what you’re arguing about?” They open their mouths and he holds up his hand. “No, I shouldn’t. But I know you’ll both do the next right thing.” Glancing at them again, he isn’t so sure of that as he opens the garage door and heads to work.
“And the next right thing is to contact her,” Gloria says. “What if she’s laid up in the hospital somewhere?”
“What if she’s been arrested?” Miriam says.
“Then the next right thing would still be to contact her!”
Miriam scowls, sighing, and reaches for Gloria’s laptop on the table. “Let me contact her. I’m better with words than you are.”
“You use words like ‘scrummy’ and ‘kerfuffle’!”
“Exactly, Gloria. I am a woman of refinement,” Miriam says, pulling up Craigslist on the computer.
Gloria looks over her shoulder. “Just keep your refinement out of the e-mail.”
Miriam looks at her. “Are we telling her that we know each other?”
Gloria shifts her eyes to the ceiling, thinking. “Yes. We need to let her know that we saw each other at Betty’s, and after we got to talking we realized we were both there for the same meeting.”
Miriam begins to type: Unfortunately, it looks as if our time and place for meeting has been confused once again. We do hope that everything is tickety-boo for you—”
“Wait! Wait!” Gloria says. “‘Tickety-boo’? Is that a cartoon character?”
Miriam turns her head slowly to stare at Gloria. “A cartoon character, Gloria? Are you mad?”
Gloria stands. “Am I mad? You just used the word ‘tickety-boo’ in an e-mail to a young girl who didn’t grow up in England and who probably doesn’t watch PBS.”
Miriam begins typing again. We hope that everything is going great for you. She looks up at Gloria. “Happy?”
“Very,” she says, sitting back down. “Keep going.”
Gloria and I saw each other at Betty’s and—
“Actually, she doesn’t know me as Gloria.”
“You didn’t sign your name?”
Gloria hesitates. “I signed a name.”
Miriam glares at her. “A name? What name?”
“Mary Richards.”
“The Mary Tyler Moore Show?” Gloria nods. “Oh, that’s rich, Gloria!” She deletes Gloria’s name and continues. Mary Richards and I saw each other at Betty’s and because we have a close relationship—
“That might be stretching it,” Gloria says.
Miriam shoots her a glance and continues the e-mail.
we began to chat and discovered that we were both there to meet you. We are so sorry that it did not work out and hope nothing is wrong. Maybe you’re getting ready for Christmas and no longer in need of a family. But if you are still looking for people to share your Christmas with, we would be happy to meet you.
She looks at Gloria. “I feel we need to make sure this is not some big game to this young woman.”
Gloria purses her lips and narrows her eyes, looking at Miriam. “What do you mean?”
“We must question her sincerity.” Gloria begins to answer but Miriam talks over her. “I know that it grates on you to think that anyone could have less than honorable motives, but this is not Mayberry, Gloria. It is the twenty-first century and we live in a very cynical world.”
“Said the queen of cynicism,” Gloria mumbles into her coffee cup.
Miriam crosses her arms and sits ramrod straight. “You call me cynical. I call me cautious. I call me wise. I call me—”
“Oh, for the love of Pete! Just write something!”
Placing her fingers on the keyboard Miriam types, talking aloud as she does. “Please do not take offense at this but we must be assured of your sincerity. Are you looking for a family with an honest heart or is this a ploy or a ruse of some kind? We merely want to be assured that this is not a game on your part.”
Gloria rubs her temples as if plagued by an excruciating headache.
“What is wrong with you, Gloria?”
Gloria shakes her head. “I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to meet us again.”
“And this will inform us if we indeed want to try to meet her again.” She types Mary Richards and Laura and positions the arrow over the send button.
“Wait! Who’s Laura? Laura who?”
“Laura Petrie,” Miriam says.
Gloria laughs. “Mary Tyler Moore’s character from The Dick Van Dyke Show?” Miriam refuses to laugh. “Oh, we are quite the pair, aren’t we?”
“Come on, Gloria! Should I press send?”
“Against my better judgment but yes.”
Miriam clicks send and gets to her feet. “I need to run. I’m helping Dalton and Heddy pick up some final auction items.”
Gloria groans. “That reminds me! I need to pick up the box that Frank was making for us.”
Miriam reaches for her coat from the back of the chair. “Did you tell Cassondra about her box going to the dump?”
“No. But I will. I tried to tell Maria yesterday but she was about to tell Ben that he’d been voted grand marshal.”
“Maybe Frank’s box will bring in more money than Cassondra’s,” Miriam says, buttoning her coat.
Gloria puts the cups into the dishwasher and snaps it closed. “Maybe. But it was the spirit of the thing. She gave it with such a sincere heart and I thought for sure that box was meant for someone at the fund-raiser.”
“Maybe that box was meant for you alone.” Miriam is pulling on her gloves, taking painstaking effort to make sure each finger is pushed as far as it can go.
“Why me?”
Miriam shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe Cassondra’s giving of the box was to remind you to give like a child or have hope like a child.”
Gloria walks her to the front door. “Listen to you being all deep!”
“You’re not talking to a duffer, you know.”
“I don’t know what that means but I’m pretty sure I am.”
Miriam bursts into laughter and opens the door.