SAMMY TOOK ONE LAST LOOK at the table. As an afterthought, he rearranged the place cards. Walt and Mrs. West were set next to one another facing Sammy. He wanted a front-row seat watching every awkward moment. John's card was at the foot of the table, while Sammy's mother was at the head, nearest the kitchen.
The center of the table held a small vase of fake flowers borrowed from the bathroom. A fine coating of bath powder still clung to several of their freshly dunked petals. He dimmed the lights. The mood was perfect, Sammy thought. He placed a book of matches next to his plate, ready to light the pair of unmatched candles, one black, and one orange, Halloween-leftover bargains. They were secured with wax in crystal holders from his mother's China hutch.
"Ta dum, Mom, what do you think?" He pointed to the table.
"I hope the food is as good as the ambiance," she said.
"It smells good. Do you need help?"
"Aren't you and Mrs. West going to get Walt?"
"She's picking him up herself."
A knock on the door signaled John's arrival. The two boys greeted each other with devilish looks, giving a thumbs up behind Sammy's mother's back.
"So when is our charming couple arriving?" John whispered.
Sammy raised a finger to his lips and motioned John to follow him outside. Keeping his voice low, he said, "Soon. Mrs. West is usually on time. Wish I could be a bug on the windshield to see Walt's expression when she shows up, alone, and even thanks him for the flowers."
"What about the candy? Did you deliver it?" John asked.
Sammy said, "What a deal! I found a box of marked-down chocolate creams, a big four-pound beast, only cost three bucks, down from twelve dollars, really romantic stuff." Sammy gave a whistle and brushed his chin a couple quick strokes, grinning ear to ear.
Headlights turned into the drive. The boys ducked into the shadows on the porch. The blue Buick, freshly washed and shiny, stopped under the yard light in front of the garage. They hadn't planned to be outside when the guests arrived. Walt opened his door quickly. He rushed around the front of the car as fast as his stiff legs would allow, then opened the driver's door. Mrs. West took his hand as he helped her out of the car.
"I'd prefer if you drove on the way back, Walt. I have trouble with night vision."
"I'd be happy to, Mrs. West." Movement on the porch distracted him as he caught sight of the boys.
"Now, Walt, I meant it when I said to call me Helen."
John poked Sammy's side whispering in a falsetto voice, "Just call me Helen, Sweetie!" Sammy smirked.
As the couple approached the porch, the boys stepped back. Sammy grabbed the screen door, opened and closed it loudly. John followed him across the porch and down the front steps.
"Good to see you. We thought we heard your car drive up, Mrs. West. Hello, Walt, how's it going?" Sammy could have kicked himself for the too-casual comment.
"Hello, boys," Walt said, with a little too much elderly dignity, as he escorted Helen along the walk and up the steps. Sammy flashed a disgusted look at John. Boys! Who's the boy, anyway? Sammy thought. He's actually enjoying it! Walt swished his left hand ahead of himself and offered his right elbow to Mrs. West for support. Sammy winced. He's pathetic.
As she took Walt's arm, Mrs. West waved Sammy closer. "Sammy dear, could you please bring in the package from the back seat? Walt was so sweet to bring me chocolates."
The candy looked familiar, still in the red striped bag from the Priced Rite Pharmacy, the receipt still with it, marked "sale item, no refund." Maybe she didn't notice.
By the time he reached the door, Walt was helping Mrs. West with her coat. He was also flattering Sammy's mother as only a very old man or a cocky teen might try. What! The old fake is even kissing her hand.
"Just call me Jane," his mother said.
Oh please!
Sammy poked the giant-size box of candy in front of Mrs. West.
"It was so sweet of Walt to bring me candy. I can't possibly eat it all," Mrs. West said. "Jane, please offer it to everyone after dinner."
Sammy's mother added, "Walt, how thoughtful of you. I didn't even know gentlemen did that anymore."
Great, there goes Mom, gushing all over the place. Walt looked pleased. "Love's Labour's Lost." Whatever that meant, Sammy thought. He felt satisfied the old boy had dug himself plenty deep into the romantic notions of Mrs. West and his own mother. The sport would be seeing how he got out of them.
Sammy nudged John and whispered, "She hasn't said anything about the flowers. Wonder why."
His sheepish look said it all. "Heck, candy is good enough."
Sammy snarled at John, "What? You didn't get the flowers!" They all began to take seats in the living room.
A timer went off in the kitchen. Jane left to see to it, and Sammy stood up. "Hey, John, I need some help lighting those candles in the dining room." The boys left the elder pair in the living room together. Sammy lit into John: "No flowers, no food, Mr. Cheapskate!" The romantic alone-time was cut short when Sammy's mother called Helen to the kitchen.
While Sammy got John to help light the candles, Walt entered the dining room.
"It was thoughtful of you to have Helen pick me up, alone." Walt's sarcasm was unmistakable.
Sammy, still holding a burning match, said, "Come on, Walt old man, you know you and Helen make a charming couple."
John stood grinning like a used-car salesman. The lit match burned its way to Sammy's fingertip. He flicked it onto the tablecloth and smudged out the flame.
"I knew you guys were up to no good, especially when she started thanking me for the candy. Can't say your choice is so good, though. I just bought a box like that for AnLillie's seventy-fifth germ day."
"Germ day?"
"Germination day, you know, birthday. There were little worms in the raisin-nut creams."
"Great!" Sammy frowned. "And she wants to share them after dinner."
"So, have you had enough laughs on me yet?" Walt sounded amused, obviously enjoying messing up the boys' plans to make him sweat out his "first date."
"You know you're pitiful," Sammy scoffed.
"I'm just turning your lemons into my lemonade, Sam."
Helen and Jane crossed the hall into the dining room, each carrying a steaming bowl. "Please sit down."
Walt pulled Helen's chair from the table while she positioned herself to sit. When she relaxed her knees, Walt was still backing it away from her ample behind, now headed for the floor. The scene kicked into slow motion as Mrs. West dropped all the way. Instinctively, she reached to stop her fall. She managed to grab the tablecloth, which followed her, along with the dishes, silverware, and glasses. Amazingly, the hot dish she had just set down near the middle of the table stopped at the table's edge.
The shocked look on Mrs. West's face, the sight of her lace-trimmed slip above her chubby knees hugged by the tops of knee-high nylons, was too ridiculous for silence. John laughed, and then slapped his own mouth, just before taking the hot dish thrust at him by Sammy's mother.
"Oh, Helen, are you all right?" Jane exclaimed. She grabbed the candles that lay cattywampus on the tablecloth dripping wax, continuing to burn.
Walt stood behind the chair, his shocked expression momentarily turned to mischievous delight. Before he checked himself, he caught Sammy's stare. Sammy knew he wore the same devilish grin himself.
"Oh, Mrs. East, I mean Mrs. West, uh, Helen, I'm really sorry. Are you all right?" Walt cried.
"I'll be just fine, just fine. Can you help me get up?" Mrs. West released the tablecloth and struggled to keep from hitting her head against the chair. Walt pulled it back even further. He hurried in front of it and behind Mrs. West to place his arms around her back and under her armpits. Once there, the only place left to grip and lift was her ample bosom. He lifted her a foot off the floor. Realizing his position, he quickly let loose. Again she hit the floor, in a soft bottom-bounce.
"Oh, my goodness!" Mrs. West exclaimed.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, here let me help you," Walt said with fresh resolve.
"No, please, please, don't help me," she begged as she struggled to right herself.
Both boys and Jane stood next to the table, arms filled with plates of food and burning candles. Within seconds, Jane inched the overhanging tablecloth back to position and reset the now-extinguished candles. Except for the two place settings on the floor, the table stood corrected. Walt picked up the broken plates and scattered silver. Jane directed him toward the kitchen as soon as she saw Helen safely seated in her chair.
Sammy followed him. "Geez, Walt, you sure are giving me my money's worth."
"I'm darn sure Mrs. West isn't laughing. That was horrible. I hope she's going to be okay. Your old people can't take that falling-down business. I know, it's just as bad on us young folks." Walt threw the dish chunks in the garbage. "What's she gonna say when I go back in there?"
"Probably, 'here comes the dirty old man!'" Sammy handed Walt new dishes and a fist of silverware.
By the time they reached the dining room, Helen was laughing so hard tears filled her eyes. John sat grinning, obviously having made some redeeming remark.
The meal continued with light conversation until Sammy and John bombarded Walt with questions about his past. Walt amazed everyone with his sharp recollections of fearless hunting trips in the jungles of South America, where he had carried a thirty-pound gun and walked barefoot in piranha-infested waters. He recalled eating raw poisonous snakes and fat squirming grubs, after nearly starving from losing his food pack in a quicksand trap. But saving a band of helpless natives from a herd of ferocious water buffalo in the steaming mosquito swamps was his greatest memory. "We paddled forty miles up a small stream that turned out to be a trap. The mosquitoes were so large and thick we took to swatting them with our paddles, until one of the paddles broke."
Sammy was the only one who had heard enough. Mrs. West was thoroughly enjoying the ridiculous stories. Sammy's mother was delighted. Clearly, Walt's charming ways proved great entertainment. But worse, even John seemed enthralled. When Walt wasn't talking about devouring disgusting things, he was complimenting Sammy's mother on the delicious food she had prepared.
If you compare it to what he claims he'd eaten, that's no compliment, Sammy thought.
"Mom makes the best desserts. You like sweets, don't you, Walt?"
"I love sweets!" Walt exclaimed, all smiles.
"Oh, yeah," Sammy said, "that reminds me. Should I get that candy Walt bought you, Mrs. West?"
"Oh my, yes. That's all the dessert I need. And you really must have some, Walt," Helen insisted.
John and Sammy both rushed to the living room to find the huge box of chocolates. "Oh, let this be even older than AnLillie's," Sammy said to John.
John asked, "Sammy, do you have any rice?"
"Great idea! Here, you open the box while I get it." He went to the kitchen, pulled a jar of rice from the bottom shelf, and scooped out a handful.
When he brought it back, John lifted the candy lid and nearly dumped the moving chocolate and raisin morsels on the rug. Squirming grubs were pulsing around the stale but slightly gooey candy. There was really no need to add the fake rice grubs, but if some is funny, lots is hilarious. So Sammy opened his fist and sprinkled the white nuggets over the entire box. At first glance, they couldn't tell the maggots from the rice grains. Perfect! The boys returned to the dining room, carrying the revolting gift.
Before offering the candy to Mrs. West, Sammy dimmed the overhead lights and relit the table candles. "We forgot our ambiance. There, that's perfect for after dinner."
"Perfect!" Walt echoed.
Sammy said, "Walt, since they're your treat, you'd better have the first bite, you know, the poison test. You wouldn't want Mrs. West dropping dead from poison candy, would you?"
"Can't have that, especially after nearly killing you with the chair." Walt smiled at Mrs. West. Evidently, he had forgotten about AnLillie's chocolates. He reached into the box without looking, grabbed a piece, and popped it into his mouth.
At that moment John turned up the lights and said, "Sammy, what's in that box?" The box was now resting on the table between Walt and Mrs. West. Its contents came alive in the sudden burst of light.
"Bugs! Oh, Walt, spit it out!" Mrs. West squealed.
Too late. He had swallowed the entire piece. Walt rose quickly, propelling himself through the room, and into the bathroom across the hall. A disgusting barfing sound followed. Sammy rushed to the bathroom door. "Guess those weren't as tasty as the ones in South America, huh, Walt?"
It didn't matter that Sammy was grounded for a week. When he watched Walt help Helen down the steps to her car, walk around to the driver's side, and bunny-hop her rig out of the driveway; he knew Walt had earned their friendship. The score was even. Walt wasn't half bad, and besides, he could drive . . . sort of.