Part 2 (2/2)
Hannah glanced at Marge. Lisa's mother-in-law was dressed to the nines tonight in an outfit that Hannah termed aging hippie, a phrase she'd never utter out loud for fear she'd hurt Marge's feelings. Some ladies liked to look sleek. Delores was a case in point. Her outfits were always tailored to embrace her perfect figure. Other ladies liked flounces, full skirts that swung out like cowgirls at a Sat.u.r.day night square dance. Marge liked flutter. b.u.t.terfly wings and swooping fringes had nothing on her tonight. She was wearing a purple chiffon pantsuit that fluttered around her legs when she walked, and almost cleared off the table when she made a sweeping gesture.
Jack Herman, Lisa's dad, sat next to Marge. He looked handsome in dark slacks and a lavender s.h.i.+rt, but he didn't look happy. His lips were curved in a smile, but his eyes were angry and Hannah could tell that his smiling countenance was nothing but a polite gesture. Several times during the evening, she'd caught him glaring at Gus. Lisa had mentioned that there was bad blood between them, but when Lisa had asked her father what was wrong, he'd refused to discuss it.
Marge's twin, Patsy, looked so much like Marge that Hannah could believe the stories they'd told about how they used to play jokes on their dates by switching places halfway through the evening. There were ways to tell the twins apart, but only if they were standing side by side. Patsy's hair was slightly darker and she was a bit heavier than Marge. Marge's nose was a smidgen longer. Patsy's eyebrows were darker. It wasn't much of a yardstick to tell them apart, and Hannah was glad they didn't dress alike.
Mac, Patsy's husband, sat next to her. He was handsome and athletic, and Hannah had caught several of the unattached women at the dance eyeing him appreciatively. Patsy had noticed too, but she didn't seem concerned. Either she trusted her husband completely, or she just didn't care. Hannah was betting on the latter since they were sitting right next to each other without touching. If her psychology professor at college was correct when he lectured on body language, the s.p.a.ce between them spoke volumes about the health of their marriage.
”I don't think Mother bought your bedspread at a store,” Marge said to Gus.
”She didn't,” Patsy confirmed it. ”I remember we saved box tops for her and she sent away for it.”
”That's right! You know the type of thing we're talking about, don't you, Hannah?”
Hannah was jolted out of her musing and back to the scene by Marge's question. It was a good thing she'd been half listening to the conversation. While she'd much rather be ignored and left to her own thoughts, Marge obviously wanted to include her.
”I think I do,” Hannah answered. ”Andrea and I saved the little proof of purchase circles from something or other so that Mich.e.l.le could have a fairy princess wand. All we had to pay was the postage and handling.”
”Did she like it?” Patsy asked.
”She loved it. Unfortunately, the little bulb burned out the first week, and Dad couldn't find a replacement.”
”That's probably what happened to your bedspread,” Marge said to Gus.
”It burned out?” Gus gave her a little grin to show he was kidding.
”Close. It must have fallen apart when Mother washed it to store it in the trunk. But you said you found some things you wanted.”
”I got some of my baseball stuff.”
”The special bat Dad bought you when you made the team at Jordan High?” Patsy asked.
Gus nodded. ”It was right on top, my Louisville Slugger, the one I used in high school. I hit my first home run with that bat. I couldn't find my glove, though.” Gus gave a little chuckle. ”Maybe that fell apart right along with my bedspread.”
”You could be right,” Patsy told him. ”Leather does that if it's not treated.”
”And I know Mother didn't treat it,” Marge picked up on her sister's comment. ”She kept your old room just as it was for a couple of years, and then she packed everything up and put it in the trunk. Dad dragged it up to the attic, and I'm pretty sure they never looked at it again. It was just too painful, you know?”
Gus s.h.i.+fted a bit and Hannah could tell he was uncomfortable. ”Well, I'm glad they kept my things for me.” He turned to Hannah. ”Did you keep anything from your childhood?”
”Let me think about that for a second.” Hannah recognized his attempt to steer the conversation in another direction. It was clear he didn't want to answer difficult personal questions. Hannah thought about thwarting his attempt, but Gus was looking at her the way a drowning man might look at a rescue vessel, and she simply had to help him out. ”I still have the pink satin toe shoes I bought when I was a kid.”
”Ballet?” Marge sounded incredulous. ”I didn't know you took ballet lessons.”
”That's just the problem. I didn't. When I was about eleven, I got the notion that if only I had the proper shoes, I could dance the lead in Swan Lake.”
”So you got the shoes and discovered that you couldn't do it?” Marge asked.
”That's right,” Hannah replied, dismissing it with a smile and a shrug, not mentioning the disappointment she'd suffered when she couldn't achieve en pointe without grasping the back of a st.u.r.dy chair and hauling herself up on it. She'd been so sure she was a natural in a field that had no naturals, only dedication, constant practice, and years and years of ballet training. But this wasn't the time or the place to bare her soul. It was best to make light of it ”Another childhood dream fractured. You know how it is. But I did keep all the Degas prints my mother bought for me.”
”So here we all are, reliving old memories,” Jack said, staring directly across the table at Gus. ”Remember Mary Jo Kuehn?”
The silence that followed Jack's question was so heavy Hannah imagined she could cut with a knife. She wasn't sure what it meant since she'd never heard of Mary Jo Kuehn, but everyone except Jack looked uncomfortable.
”I remember,” Gus said, ”and I'll never stop missing her. She was such a pretty girl. But I met another pretty girl today, Jack.”
”Who was that?” Marge asked, seizing the opportunity to change the subject.
”Jack's oldest daughter, Iris.” Gus turned back to Jack. ”She doesn't look at all like you, so I guess she must take after her mother. And speaking of Emmy, you're here with Marge. Did you and Emmy get a divorce?”
Jack gave him a look that would freeze lilacs in July. ”Emily is dead.”
”I'm sorry to hear that.” Gus sounded sincere to Hannah's ears. ”How about your sister, Heather?”
”She's dead, too,” Jack repeated, still glowering.
”Do you remember Mr. Burnside?” Marge trilled, and Hannah's eyebrows shot up. She'd never heard Marge sound so intensely cheerful before.
”Of course.” Patsy sounded deliberately cheerful, too. ”I thought I was going flunk algebra, but he took pity on me.”
”You did all right,” Marge reached over to pat her hand. ”Did you enjoy the dessert buffet?”
”Oh, my yes! It's absolutely scrumptious. And your carrot cake...” Patsy turned to smile at Hannah. ”I've always been known for my carrot cake, but yours...it's even better than mine. Mac had three pieces!”
”I had four,” Gus declared, ”and I want more.” He turned and winked at Hannah. ”I don't suppose you've got another cake stashed anywhere?”
”Actually...yes, I do. I was saving it for tomorrow, but I can always put it out if there isn't any left on the platter.”
Mac, who was at the edge of the booth, stood up to look. ”There's half a platter left.”
”Gus just wants you to leave him a private stash so he can eat it later,” Marge informed her. ”He used to do the same thing with my Cocoa Fudge Cake. I always had to bake two, one for the family and the other one for Gus.”
”You're right,” Gus admitted. ”I'm guilty as charged.” He turned to Hannah. ”Will you put away a plate of carrot cake for me?”
”Oh. Well...sure. How much do you want?”
”At least half a cake,” Patsy answered for him. ”That's what he used to ask Marge for. And in the morning, it was all gone. Gus was a midnight refrigerator bandit.”
”So is Jack,” Marge said, in an attempt to bring Jack into the conversation.
Hannah turned to look at Jack. He wasn't having it. He was just staring at Gus and glowering.
”I don't suppose you brought that Cocoa Fudge Cake tonight, did you?” Gus addressed Marge. Hannah was sure he'd noticed that Jack was glowering at him, but he preferred to ignore it.
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