My first fear went unrealized. We did not get snow on the morning of the party. However, those fabled April showers were on the way. The sky was dark and there was a strong breeze. I hoped the rain would hold off until after the party began.
Ted and Cal had offered to get Mom, so I could help Enza and her crew up at the clubhouse. I saw her Mercedes drive by, followed by two white panel vans with a tasteful logo painted on the back of each. ‘A Luxe Affair’, mounted on a Tiffany blue rectangle, with the phone number discreetly printed below. A rental truck brought up the rear.
The clubhouse had been unlocked earlier that morning, so there was no rush to get there. I left Tessa and Cait at the house and walked up the drive.
Josiah Abrams had built the clubhouse as his summer home, in an age when more of something meant wealth. Consequently, it was everything you could have wanted in a grand Victorian summer home, and then some. The porch wrapped around the entire front and side, there were plenty of bay windows with leaded panes. There were porches on the second floor, turrets on every corner and gingerbread galore. It was quite beautiful in an overdone, slightly vulgar way. I loved it.
Inside, there was a grand foyer and a sweeping staircase to the upper floors. To the left were the parlor and the dining room, a space that ran the whole length of the house, two grand rooms with high ceilings, crown moldings and ornate fireplaces. The front room had a massive bay window overlooking the lake, and the dining room opened to a sun porch in the back. It was there the Luxe staff was setting up for the party.
The flurry of activity was heartening. The four members of the Luxe staff were recognizable by their white jackets, each with the Luxe logo on the pocket. There were other young men, from the rental company, I guessed, who did most of the heavy lifting — unloading the tables and chairs from the truck and setting them up around the room. Enza tottered over in mile-high heels.
“Let me introduce you,” she said, looping her arm through mine and leading me to a tiny redhead who was setting up round tables. “This is Joanne Collins. One of my partners. She’s in charge of the decorating and all the set-ups.”
Joanne looked up from her work and flashed a grin. “Yeah. The hard work.”
Enza snorted delicately. “She has an attitude because she’s so short. Come on back to the kitchen.”
The original kitchen had been completely redone sometime in 2003, and it was all shiny stainless steel and white tile. There was a rather tall, incredibly thin woman lifting the lids off various trays and sniffing.
“That’s Phyllis. She’s our chef. The third partner.”
Phyllis looked up. “There may not be enough,” she said in a low voice.
“Swear to God, you say that at every event,” Enza scolded. “Don’t alarm the client. We could feed the all the guests and have enough left over for the entire defensive line of the Green Bay Packers.”
Phyllis shook her head and motioned to one of the Luxe people.
“She’s a diva,” Enza whispered in my ear. “But she’s an amazing cook.”
I nodded sympathetically. It sure smelled amazing. They were moving trays into the ovens. My mouth watered.
Joanne brushed by, realized it was me, and grinned before shaking my hand. “Hi, Ellie. Great old house! This is going to be a fun party.”
She was quite a contrast to Enza, tiny and cheerful, with an open, freckled face and curly red hair she had held back with a pink flower.
“I’m counting on all of you for that,” I said. “Looks like everything is under control.”
Joanne nodded. “Yep. The bartender is running a little late, but he’s new, so I’ll cut him some slack. The wine and beer is already here, so even if he doesn’t show, we’ll be fine. I tended bar for years before Enza and I started up.”
“How long ago was that?” I asked, curious.
“Almost five years now,” Enza said. “We started out with kids parties. Swear to God, there is nothing worse than an over-privileged mother who thinks her kid is perfect. The stories I could tell…”
“But you won’t,” Joanne cut in smoothly. “Phyllis joined us two years ago. By then we were doing parties like this, and larger, and we realized we were losing money on the food side of the operation. We found Phyl, invited her in, and the rest, as they say, is history.” She looked past me into the main room. “There he is. The bartender. See you later.”
I looked at Enza. “Kids parties?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started. Seriously. Worst years of my friggin’ life. If you got kids, you know.”
I laughed. I liked her. “I’ve got a twenty-four year old and an eleven year old. Both girls.”
She muttered under her breath and made the sign of the cross. I laughed again and walked away.
People would start arriving in about forty minutes, and everything was looking great. I took a final walk around the front parlors, then headed for home.
The party officially started at one o’clock. By twelve fifty-five, people filled the room, standing, sitting, sipping wine, and waiting for my mother to arrive. I heard thunder, but the rain had held off. So far, so good.
Sam, standing beside me, leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Is she going to show up?”
I jabbed backwards with my elbow. “It’s still early, so don’t even think that,” I said between clenched teeth. “You have no idea how real a possibility that is.”
I kept glancing down at my phone, waiting for a text from Ted saying they were on the way. Or explaining why they were not on the way. Nothing.
I had seen Carol and her boyfriend Leon arrive with Maggie and her husband Derek. And Shelly. They were all sitting together with my ex-husband, Marc, and Lou Lombardi, my neighbor and sorta friend, his new girlfriend. I’d lived in Mt. Abrams long enough that all my friends had gotten to know my mother by her appearances at parties and cookouts, the Mother’s Day Brunch and Founder’s Day festivities. They were all laughing as I walked over to them.
“Hey, guys, good to see you,” I said, somewhat breathlessly. I focused on Shelly. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
Shelly clutched her wine glass and smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it,” she said. “You know how much I love Leona.”
That was true. I’d known Shelly a long time, and she’d first met my mother when she was a vibrant, charming woman, before her body and mind had begun to betray her.
“I know she’ll appreciate it,” I said, still looking at Shelly. “I know I do.”
There was an awkward silence, something I had never encountered with Shelly before.
“Is Ted bringing your mom?” Carol asked.
I glanced at my watch again. “Yes. Like, right now. See you all later.”
I spotted Connie, who had planted herself by the bar and was talking a blue streak to my mother’s old neighbor, Mr. Silvio. She was also clutching a mug of beer as though it was the last drop of moisture left on earth.
“Mr. Silvio, hello,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “Do you remember me?” Like my aunts, he was still living in the same house he’d grown up in, and had known my mom and her sisters their whole lives.
His family owned a little store down on the corner of my mother’s old block, and when we’d visit my aunts on a Saturday, my brother and I would each get a whole quarter to spend there. We’d walk down together, which in itself was something of an adventure, going past the neighborhood kids and their games of stickball and jump rope. The tiny store was an Aladdin’s Cave of wonders—a candy counter that ran the whole length, books and magazines, a corner for things like balsa wood airplanes and jump ropes, and an espresso machine in the back. This was before there were espresso machines in every Starbucks, and Ted and I thought it exotic and mysterious, almost as fascinating as the silent, taciturn men that sat at the round tables in front of the store, sipping out of their tiny cups and speaking Italian.
Mr. Silvio lived in an identical four-family house as my aunts, and they shared a common drive. If we visited on Sundays, he would not be at the store, but rather in his tiny garden, tying up his tomato plants. Back then, his towering height and bushy eyebrows had terrified me. Now, he was a bent old man, smiling tiredly from sad, bleary eyes.
“Of course I remember you,” he said. “Playing hopscotch in the street. You and your brother and your Snickers bars. You look just like your mother.”
“Thank you. You’ve met Connie, I see?”
Connie took a gulp of her beer. “Henry and I were practically neighbors back in the day.”
“Really? Oh, that’s right.” Connie was ten years older than my mother, and had met her at The Manor. They immediately connected, because they had grown up four blocks from each other in Newark.
He licked his lips. “It’s a very small world.” Something flickered in his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t as thrilled to meet Connie as she was to meet him, which was understandable. Connie looked good for her age, but with her bright red hair and outlandish outfits, she could come on a bit strong. Today she was dressed in a hot pink dress about twenty years out of date, with a long brightly colored scarf wrapped several times around her neck, thick white stockings and clunky black platform shoes, with blue eye shadow, red lipstick, and earrings that looked like hot pink golf balls.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Mr. Silvio. I know my mother will be thrilled to see you again.”
He smiled. “I remember your mother when she was a spry young girl. She was a looker. Every boy who met her wanted her. But she held out for your father. She was a smart girl, Leona.”
“She still is. Ah, can I borrow Connie for a second?” I grabbed Connie by the arm and drew her away, leaning in to whisper.
“Connie, did you talk to my mother today? Was she…okay?”
Connie immediately understood. “Yeah. She seemed fine. She even knew it was her birthday, which is a good thing, ’cause yesterday she wasn’t so sure.”
“Did you see Ted and Cal?”
“No, but ask Dom or Roberta. I was running late and flew down the stairs at the last minute.”
I couldn’t imagine her flying anywhere in her thick stockings and wobbly shoes, but…
“Say…” She elbowed me. “That Henry Silvio…”
I fought down a grin. Connie had a reputation back at The Manor as being a woman in constant search of a husband. “He’s never been married, if you’re interested.”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I’m always interested. He’s a fine-looking man. I don’t think he was so distinguished back in the day.”
“He’s a bit older than you, I think. He went to school with Aunt Rose. His family owned that little corner store on Alexander Street. You remember him, then?”
She looked thoughtful. “Bits and pieces are coming back. The store. I remember that. Interesting.”
“Why? I don’t think he made a lot of money, and I think you’re a woman who likes a little cash in someone’s pocket.”
She nodded slowly. “That’s the truth. But…”
I laughed. “Go for it, Connie. But I need to figure out where mom is.”
She looked serious and determined. “I think I need to ask him a few questions. Good hunting. To us both,” she said, and sashayed back over to Mr. Silvio.
I looked around until I found Dominick and Roberta, sitting next to Peggy and her cane, all sipping red wine
I walked around and came up behind Roberta and Dominick. “Hi, I’m Ellie. I know Peggy, a bit, but you’re Dominick? And Roberta? I thought I should formally introduce myself.”
Dominick immediately stood and took my hand in both of his. “A pleasure,” he said. “Thank you for including us to this special celebration.”
Roberta smiled up at me. “Yes. We’ve seen you, of course. With your mother. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Yes,” I said. This was awkward. “Did you happen to notice my brother before you came out here? He was supposed to pick up my mother, but…” I was a rotten liar. “He may have gotten lost?”
Peggy shook her head. “No, dear. Sorry.”
“I saw him,” Dominick said. “He and his very handsome, ah, friend. They were talking to your mother in the lounge.”
I was afraid to ask. “Did everything seem…okay?”
Dominick pursed his lips as he thought. “She seemed fine to me.”
I thanked him and walked back to Sam, checking my watch again. Five after one.
I was going to kill my brother.
And then, everyone started to clap, and my mother walked in the foyer, Ted on one side of her, Cal on the other.
She looked lovely, her hair freshly dyed and in soft waves around her face. She was wearing one of her favorite dresses, blue and white polka dots, with white button earrings and a chunky white bead necklace.
I was so relieved to see her I almost cried.
She stood until the applause died, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’m so happy to be here,” she said, her voice cracking. “And I’m so happy to see you all. Thank you for coming. This is such a wonderful celebration for me. After all, it’s not every day that my gay son and his partner get married.” She beamed up at Ted, who managed to keep his mouth from dropping open.
“Mom,” he said, “I’m not getting married.”
She drew back. “Why not? You’ve been living with him for years now. What’s the hold up?”
Oh my.
I moved forward. “Mom, it’s your birthday, remember?”
She frowned. “Birthday? Mine? Really?” She looked around. “How old am I?”
Ted nodded. “Yes, it’s your big day. We told you. You’re seventy-five today.”
Her eyes narrowed. “The hell I am.”
Well, this was not going well. Luckily, family came to the rescue.
My Aunt Gloria, at about five foot one and ninety pounds, with a helmet of steel gray hair and a unibrow, hustled up to my mother. “Leona, honey, I’m gonna be eighty, so, do the math.”
Mom glared at her. “You’ve lied about your age your whole life,” she said.
Aunt Rose shuffled up, pushed away Ted, and grabbed an arm. Aunt Gloria took her other arm.
“Leona, who cares how old you are?” Aunt Gloria cackled. “Sit at the head table and enjoy. The food looks good, and the wine is free.”
Aunt Rose, the oldest of the sisters, waved at the rest of us. “We’ll be fine,” she called. “Leona always was the spoiled one.”
They led my mother to the head table, covered in crisp white linen, with a line of pink tulips in tiny crystal bud vases down the middle.
“For me?” Mom asked.
Aunt Rose pulled out the center chair. “Sit, Queen Bee.”
Mom did, and beamed. “What a surprise,” she said. “It’s my birthday!”
She looked around brightly as the skies opened up, and the rain began to fall.