The boys plunk down goblets of wine for Ruby and me, and they stand behind our chairs as we sit down, such gentlemen.
“Thank heavens,” Ruby says and raises her glass. “To a resounding success.” The four of us clink and then take a nice slug.
The lights begin to dim and then the room becomes silent. Lit from behind, the band members are silhouetted in deep lavender, over their music stands; small white lights glow, reflecting handsome faces. Charlie lifts his clarinet and begins to play a lone tune; the others join in, building in sound. It’s an old jazz tune; sure hope Helen likes it.
Two circles of bright light illuminate the stage in front; Sam steps up to one of the microphones and then Connie Evingson joins her. Connie’s shimmering in a red gown, her blond hair held back by a twenties-style hat. They begin to harmonize, then another spotlight hits the three sewing gals and they sing backup as the two jazz singers belt out the best rendition of “Fly Me to the Moon” I’ve ever heard!
Helen and Ryan hit the dance floor halfway through the song, and at the end, Ryan dips her, then pulls her up and plants a huge, wet one on her lips. Saundra stands, puts her fingers in her mouth and lets out one of the loudest whistles I’ve heard. After I stop laughing, we clink and cheer and dance the night away.
Early the next morning—well, okay, it’s not that early—Ruby and I are slumped around the stump table down in the kitchen. Even Rocky’s food crunching is painful, but between the strong coffee and cigarette number two, I think I’m going to live.
“Just what time do you think we went to bed?” I ask Ruby.
She adjusts her sunglasses. “I haven’t the slightest idea, darling. But I do know, I won’t be dancing like that anytime soon. Good heavens, my heels are still jolly well throbbing to my heartbeat. Surprised it’s beating at all, poor thing.”
“What a beautiful—everything. Even Saundra loosened up and apparently that’s saying something.”
“Weren’t Sam and Connie brilliant together? Perhaps we should manage their career and chuck the apron business. We could hit the road and…what in the world am I saying? She’s already famous, and Sam, well, I think she’s one of the most content women I know.”
“My God—can she belt out a note and hold it or what?” I pour us more coffee. “The trio can hold their own, too, don’t you think? I mean—they’ve got the Andrews Sisters beat cold.”
“We’re simply stewing in talent,” Ruby limply offers. “Helen’s mum handed me this. You open it, darling.”
She hands me a monogrammed envelope; I slice it open with one of my now chipped nails. “Jesus—it’s a check made out to Toad Hollow for ten grand, and in the memo area she’s written, ‘One of many.’ Can you believe it?”
“She did? Must have been the martinis. They certainly flowed. Good thing we stuck to wine…” Ruby moans.
“Oh boy, somebody had a martini,” I singsong and Ruby holds up three fingers. “Three!” I say a bit too loudly.
“Johnny dared me, what could I do?”
“I see your point.” We sit in silence a moment. “I bet Al’s Place is getting busy serving brunch—I suppose the wedding party is over there. Sure was generous of Saundra to rent all those rooms for Helen’s friends.”
“The woman’s loaded. She told me so herself.” Ruby stands up and heads toward the living room. “Listen—darling—I’m going up to shower, and if I’m not back in, say, a week, send someone ’round, won’t you?” She drifts upstairs.
“It’s just you and me,” I say to Rocky, who’s now up on top of the countertop doing some heavy-duty house cleaning. “You animals are so smart. I bet you’ve never even had a hangover—have you?” He gives me his “don’t be stupid” look and resumes licking.
I go over and check my reflection in the mirror by the back door. “Good grief.” I put on Ruby’s sunglasses and then take down a huge tumbler. While I’m letting the tap run good and long, the phone rings. I pour a glass full, have a sip and grab the phone.
“Weddings are us,” I chirp into the mouthpiece.
“Hell-o, Eve, it’s me—married Helen—how are you?” She’s way too happy.
“As soon as my double vision ends and the ringing in my ears becomes more of a low buzz—I’m thinking in another couple of years—I’ll be ready to do it all over again,” I say and then chuckle.
“Some of us are having breakfast together—hang on a second.” I can hear her tell Ryan something. “Sorry, Ryan’s riding over to Bayfield with his parents, then coming back. He wants to show them around and I’m just too exhausted.”
“I can identify.” I plop down on a stool and spin real slow. “You sure were—are—a beautiful bride there, kiddo—hey, since Ryan’s gunna be gone for a bit, why not come over here until you head back to Duluth?”
“I’d love to. I’ll be over in a couple.”
Helen breezes in the back door looking fabulous. If I weren’t so crazy about her, I’d hate her. She’s dressed casual and looks just a tiny bit tired around her happy edges.
“Have you got any tea?” Helen sits down at the stump table. “I’ve never really enjoyed the taste of coffee. Did you see Howard and Johnny dancing together? They’re wonderful. My mom had a great time, too, though she was pretty green this morning.”
“How about some green tea?” I raise my eyebrows in question and then wince in pain. “Maybe I’ll have some, too.” I put on the kettle and join her.
“Everything turned out just perfect,” Helen gushes and I grin.
“Even the weather behaved,” I say.
“Are you kidding? It rained like—hey, you couldn’t have arranged that—could you?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I do have a lot of connections.”
“No kidding, when that Connie Evingson came on stage, well, at first I didn’t believe my eyes, then, when she started to sing, God, what a voice. Of course, Sam’s voice is out of this world, too. Then there’s the fact you have an entire miniature nightclub down there. Ryan explained how it wasn’t that unusual long ago, but it’s just so astounding. I will never forget yesterday—”
“Certainly you won’t,” Ruby adds, coming into the room and looking entirely refreshed. Her, I can hate. “It’s not every day that women are duck-delivered to their wedding dock, experience a ready-made storm in order to be corralled into a private nightclub. You simply have to know the right people.”
“God,” Helen says while laughing. “You sound a lot like my mother.”
“Oh dear.” Ruby sends me a wink.
Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. I shrug and head over and open it. A very tall man, dressed in a dark brown uniform, is nervously holding his hat in his hands. I know him, but I don’t. We stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Then it hits me like a brick.
“Tony? Is that you?”
Tears slide down his cheek; he looks down at the floor and then back up into my eyes.
“Who is it?” Ruby asks.
I pull the door open further. “It’s Tony Giamonna—Helen’s dad.”
Ruby and I are lying back on pillows out on the end of the dock. It’s nighttime, and a half-moon is eerily lighting up the sky. Our cigarettes glow orange in the blackness.
“Of all the days,” I say for the hundredth time. “He would have to look—perfect—just when you think you’ve got—”
“Eve, darling, what does it matter? I mean, he had to show up sooner or later, and it’s because of that Sam he came, you know.”
“I know, I know—and honestly, it’s a huge relief to have all this out. I can’t tell you how it feels. What am I saying, you know how it feels. But it’s not like he cared when I was pregnant. He never came to see me—ever. He just moved away, end of story. Can you imagine?”
“Of course I can, darling. You can, too, if you’d simply think and not get so damn emotional. Good heavens, after you introduced him, I didn’t think you were going to stop shouting. The poor man, but then—when you finally hushed, it was terribly moving.”
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“I did rip him a good one, didn’t I?” I did, trust me. “I’d been wanting to give him hell for, well, for going on thirty years! I certainly didn’t expect the hug; he wouldn’t let go.”
“And of course it was important for Helen to meet him, too, and—you must admit—he looked quite dashing in his UPS uniform.”
“He certainly dashed right on out the door, and he’d driven all the way up from Hayward, too. But he and Helen really wanted to talk. It was generous of him to drive her back to Duluth.”
“They have so much to chat about.” Ruby sits up, pours us a much-needed drink and then hands me a goblet. “Hair of the dog.” We clink. “That Tony, he made sure you knew he’s divorced, now didn’t he?”
“I hardly noticed.” I laugh and then so does Ruby. “Makes me think of Toad Hollow, being pregnant and…it could hit a lot of people’s sore spots; underage pregnant girls aren’t something everyone’s comfortable supporting…”
“Eve, darling, so many baby boomers, like yourself, had things happen that perhaps weren’t in their best interest, but life sometimes does give us a second chance.”
“Second chances.” I slump back and think. “Maybe that will be my specialty.”
Just then we hear a honking, and seconds later, the headlights of the duck are bouncing down the hill. It splashes into the lake and pulls right up next to us at the end of the dock.
“Girls,” Sam drawls out from the driver’s seat, “you gunna sit out here all night? Or do you wanna come with us”—she motions toward Lilly, Howard and Johnny—“and find a nice little island in need of a big ol’ bonfire? Hmm?”
“I suppose,” Ruby says with a glint in her eye. “If you insist.”
“Have you got—” Before I can finish, Howard holds up a wine bottle. “Count us in!”
We head off into the night among laughter and moonlight, looking back to Madeline Island. I smile—it’s gunna be one hell of a summer…
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Big hugs to my amazing family and the Prairie Farm community that literally feeds my soul. Paradise on the prairie.
Kudos galore to my wonderful agent, Alison Bond. While exchanging garden musings and New York versus Wisconsin weather reports, her belief in my work is pure sunshine.
Hats off to my editor, Audrey LaFehr, and the talented crew of Kensington Books. Let’s do it again!
So many of my clients will recognize bits and pieces of their lives, and I thank you for sharing such gifts with me. Huge hug to Laura Westlund. That goes for all the book clubs I’ve been invited to—you women know how to party!
One summer, not too long ago, my dear friend Mary received a phone call here at the farm that got her a screamin’! It was the daughter she’d only just found after thirty years of wondering. Thank you for allowing your story to be woven into mine.
How can I ever thank my still tractorless inhouse editor, webmaster, booking agent, chauffeur, public speaking coach and best friend—Ken.
Now do as Ruby says: Get cracking!
A Chat with Jay Gilbertson
THEY’RE BACK!
I have had the pleasure of doing a lot of book events and thought I’d share some of the more commonly asked questions and several comments, too.
At readings, folks have asked me about the little cabin in the back of Eve and Ruby’s place briefly mentioned in the first book. It seems that people really like a little mystery. So in the second installment I shared more about it and threw in some magic with the “healing ribbon,” because I think we all need a dose of the unexplained now and again.
Many people are curious how I go about writing. I don’t plan too much ahead when I sit down to see what the girls are up to. After editing the last couple of pages, I dig in. Sometimes I may have a goal or event or maybe even a place I want to end up at, but how the story gets there is the fun stuff. If nothing comes to mind, I get up from my computer and head off to maybe chop some wood or feed the chickens. But I’m always thinking about what might happen next.
I had a wonderful experience at a reading/signing event in California recently. Seven, twelve-year-old Girl Scouts were seated in the front row, taking a step toward earning their Book Publishing merit badge by listening to an author and then asking a question. One young gal—all nervous and beet red in the face—asked, “Mister Jay Gilbertson, what do you come up with first…the plot or the conflict?” What a great question! After stalling a minute by cracking a joke, I told her that for me, the plot unfolds just like life does and oftentimes crap (I used the word stuff—they’re twelve!) happens along the way—and that’s conflict.
Many gals want Eve to stay single, but one reader sure thought she should be getting some! I promptly replied, “how do you know she’s not?” I really don’t enjoy reading sex scenes, so I seriously doubt I’ll write any either. Yawn! Besides, being a good Norwegian, you just don’t talk about that stuff—much. I’m a lot more drawn to all the issues surrounding sex. That’s the real crux of so many disputes and complex conflicts.
As I mentioned in my acknowledgments, my friend Mary went about the daunting task of locating her daughter that she had given up at the young age of seventeen. Most of Eve and Helen’s story is just that—story. But the emotion, the fear and all those years of wondering and finally (GASP!), the meeting—I used as inspiration to give a ring of truth to several of the scenes in this novel. The sweet, heartwarming tale of the yellow sweater was a true one.
I’m happy to report that by the time you’ve read this Mary will have attended her daughter’s wedding as well. I just love happy beginnings.
Keep those e-mails coming. I love to hear your thoughts, stories and all those secrets, too. Check out more about the girls (and guys) of Madeline Island at my web site: www.jaygilbertson.com.
Jay
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2006 by Jay Gilbertson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-6657-6
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