by Meier, Susan
End of story.
Reminded of her goals, and not in any way, shape, or form intent on dressing up for him, she thought back to what she’d seen the other Dinner Belles wearing at the two funerals she’d participated in.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans and a scruffy T-shirt, she drove to the Catholic church hall and joined the ladies in the kitchen.
Accustomed to her now, the Belles went on breading chicken and salting cheesy potatoes as if she wasn’t anything special, talking about everything and nothing. Kids getting ready to go back to school. Football practice for Harmony Hills High School. A new baby being baptized. The sub sale. Then the subject of their fund-raiser came up.
Sandy walked over to the long rectangular table. “Mellanie gave me some bad news this morning.”
Mellanie winced. “Sorry. I couldn’t get the bluegrass band we were hoping to sign for the day in the park. They’re booked solid.”
Charlene Simmons sighed. “Great. They were our last hope.”
Ellie’s brow furrowed. “Last hope for what?”
“Entertainment. We put them in the gazebo so everyone can hear and see them.”
Given that the purpose of the event was to raise money, that didn’t make any sense. “If they’re playing in the park for everyone to hear, how do we get any money?”
Ashley nudged her shoulder and laughed. “They attract a crowd and we sell all those pierogis we’ve been making.”
“And pork sandwiches,” Sandy added.
Debbie Martin walked by. “And soft drinks.”
“We do face painting for the kids,” Charlene Simmons said.
Across the rectangular table from Ellie, Karen O’Riley leaned in and whispered, “There’s chuck-a-luck and poker on the far edge. That’s where we make the real money.”
Ellie nodded. “I get it.”
Sandy stood against the counter behind them. “The music is only a draw to get people to the park, but without it we’re screwed.”
“You can’t do another kind of draw?”
All eyes turned to Ellie.
Sandy asked, “Like what?”
“I don’t know. If all you need is a way to get people to the park, maybe you could have the girls’ softball team play the high school history teachers.”
Debbie gasped. “That’s a great idea.”
But Karen O’Riley said, “The girls have a tournament that weekend.”
“How about the boys’ Little League team?”
Charlene shook her head. “Those parents are burned out. We can’t ask them to have their kids play all day.”
Discussing options, they slid the chicken and roast beef into the big industrial-sized ovens, then went into the dining room to put silverware on the long, thin tables covered with paper tablecloths. They cut cakes brought to the family as sympathy offerings. Put the cheesy potatoes in the oven, ran disinfectant cloths down the kitchen’s rectangular table and countertops, and did up the prep dishes.
Then they waited. Standing by the center island in the clean kitchen, they waited for timers to sound and cars to roll in the church hall parking lot—hopefully simultaneously.
Just as the cars began arriving, buzzers began buzzing. The potatoes came out. The chicken was pronounced done. The roast beef was sliced.
No one gave an order. Everybody just seemed to know to do the next thing on the list.
The hall filled quickly as the Dinner Belles got the food onto the buffet table. Finn and the priest arrived. They stood at the head of the room while Father Jefferson said grace, then Finn told the guests on the first table to go to the buffet.
Peeking out the door between the kitchen and dining room, Ellie watched Finn. Unlike a lot of adult men, he’d retained his high school sexiness. He wore a suit with grace and dignity. But his slightly mussed hair and scruffy day-old growth of whiskers had probably set the hearts of every woman in the building to beating a little faster.
Even hers.
She shook her head. That was irrelevant. She had to apologize. He needed to know she understood she’d been wrong.
When Finn and Father Jefferson sat at a table in the back, she saw her chance, walked over to the coffeepot, and removed it from the drinks station. Armed with a sleeve of Styrofoam cups, she headed for the table with Finn and the priest.
“Coffee?”
White-haired Father Jefferson smiled broadly. “Yes, thank you.”
She poured him a cup and handed it to him. “You’re welcome.”
Then she faced Finn. “Finn? Coffee?”
He looked up at her. Their gazes connected. Time slowed to a crawl, then he quickly looked down. “No. Thanks.”
Her breath stumbled. How badly had she messed up that he wouldn’t even take free coffee from her?
She walked around the hall, offering coffee to people who more than happily took it. But it didn’t matter. The one person she wanted to talk to didn’t want to talk to her.
This time she didn’t feel shame. This time the warmth of stupidity enveloped her. Why did she always jump to conclusions with Finn?
Because they were always after the same things. In school it was to be the best. Now, both needed to support a parent. There was no compromise for them. No way they could let their guards down enough to trust each other.
With everyone’s first cup of coffee poured, she set the pot back on the burner and started a fresh one brewing. When she walked into the kitchen, all the Belles hovered by the door.
“He looks miserable.”
“Of course he does. He’s not even forty and his wife is dead.”
“Can you imagine what his last few months have been like?”
“Probably miserable.”
“And the medical bills?”
Ellie closed her eyes in disgust. Up until this moment, she’d been feeling good about her decision to join the Dinner Belles. With a lot of the older ladies gone, the younger Belles didn’t gossip as much as talk. They discussed their kids and school, the upcoming fund-raiser and Debbie Martin’s daughter’s wedding.
But now, with a juicy piece of news just beyond that door, they couldn’t help themselves.
She stormed to the main sink and ran hot water to wash the empty pans. If she banged a pot or two, she didn’t care. These women were heartless.
“You know the big joke about small towns is that when you flush your toilet the neighbor hears it.”
Her head snapped up.
Holding a dish towel, Sandy stood beside her, ready to dry the first pan, when Ellie set it on the strainer side of the sink.
Not quite sure of Sandy’s point, Ellie said, “I’ve never heard that joke.”
Sandy laughed. “It’s an oldie but goodie. Even if it is wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“Have you ever heard your neighbor’s toilet flush?”
She looked at Sandy. “No.”
“Then it’s not true.”
“Right.”
“My point is that everybody believes everybody in a small town knows everything about each other.”
Washing the first empty cheesy potatoes pan, Ellie said nothing.
“But we don’t. In fact, when somebody like Samantha gets cancer, it’s a blow to all of us because we all knew her. We all liked her. But she was struggling and didn’t want her struggle to be public. So she didn’t want company. Didn’t want us to visit.”
Sandy nudged her head in the direction of the door where her Belles stood watching the grieving family. Her eyes filled with tears as she said, “They’re confused. Curious, but in a sad way. She was their friend and out of respect for Samantha’s wishes, they didn’t get to say good-bye. And they’re talking it out among themselves, trying to understand.” She caught Ellie’s gaze. “This is totally different than what we did with your mom.”
Anger filled Ellie. How dare Sandy talk about her mother so effortlessly, so simply? “Right.”
“I’m serious, Ellie. We learned our lesson about gossipi
ng with your mom. No one knew she was having an affair. No one suspected she and your dad were having trouble. Or that she was planning to leave town.” She shook her head. “But that did not give us license to talk about her the way we did. And it was watching your dad deal with the scandal that eventually brought us to our senses. Small towns are boring. Her story was so juicy none of us could resist. But one day we looked at your dad, realized how much we were hurting him, and we made a pact. No more gossip.” She caught Ellie’s gaze. “It stands to this day.”
Ellie stopped scrubbing the pot, though she couldn’t look at Sandy. In the time she’d spent with the Belles, their conversations had been about events, their kids, the joys and pains of parenting. Until today, talking about Samantha, they hadn’t discussed another person.
“But we did gossip about your mom. We didn’t think beyond ourselves. But Charlene, Karen, and I —the only three of us who were in the group when your mom died—feel we owe you an apology. We are very, very sorry.”
Ellie’s lips trembled. An entire dam of emotion welled up inside her. She missed her mom. Always. Even though her mom had left—hadn’t thought to take her daughter, just left—the apology from Sandy, on behalf of the group, couldn’t make up for the pain of years of gossip. But for some reason or another it drenched her heart with longing so strong her chest hurt, her eyes filled with tears. She wanted a home, and Harmony Hills was beginning to feel like home. But she’d royally screwed things up with Finn. And even if she hadn’t, one of them was going to lose. It might be her. She might be the one who failed her father.
She pulled her hands from the dishwater and shrugged out of her apron. “Thank you for your apology. But I’ve gotta go.”
She raced out the door, swiping at her tears, but didn’t even get to her car before her phone rang. She sucked back her runaway emotions and quietly said, “McDermott’s.”
“Hey, sweetie, it’s Regina at Harmony Hills Hideaway.”
The yearning in her chest became fear. “How’s my dad?”
“He’s fine. But Mac Fredericks died. His family said to call you.”
“Oh.” Her feelings shifted again, and for once, she didn’t try to fight it. She didn’t want to think about the Dinner Belles’ apology. She didn’t want to worry about her dad. Or money. Or Finn. She just wanted to get through this day and hope tomorrow was better. Being busy was exactly what she needed.
She called Dan and decided not to accompany him on the trip to Harmony Hills Hideaway. She already had the reputation of being the grim reaper. No sense fostering that. Instead, she stayed behind in the office, called B.B. and Jason, and ended up in the basement, waiting with B.B.
“I’ve been thinking of changing my name.”
Ellie glanced over at B.B. “Isn’t one name change enough?”
Arranging things on the tray beside the embalming table, B.B. laughed. “I know going from Barbara Beth to just plain B.B. was a jump, but this isn’t really a big change. It’s a little change. Instead of having people call me B.B. I thought everybody should call me Queen B.”
Ellie couldn’t even measure her curiosity. “Queen B?”
“I am the leader now.” She shuffled her instruments. “And I thought it would be cool if everybody called me Queen B. Like that one singer.” She excitedly faced Ellie. “You guys could start calling me Queen B and I could say, ‘S’up,’ and we’d be like the young, cool funeral home.”
Ellie only gaped at her as her horror morphed into real fear. “We do not want to be the young, cool funeral home.”
“Seriously? Everybody’s going after the younger crowd now. And with you planning to sell funeral packages, not waiting for people to die, it just makes sense that we should project a younger image.”
Ellie sighed, but luckily she heard the sound of the hearse pulling up to the building. “Barbara Beth, call yourself Queen B if you like. Call yourself Lord of the Flies for all I care. Right now we have a funeral to take care of.”
After the body arrived, Barbara Beth got to work and Ellie went upstairs to wait for the family.
She assisted the grieving widow in choosing a casket, set times for the wake, family prayers, the funeral. She took the suit Mrs. Fredericks offered with loving hands, and told the widow they’d make her husband look as handsome as he had on their wedding day.
And she’d smiled.
Ellie walked the suit to the basement. Sullen Barbara Beth took it and turned away. Not wanting to argue about B.B.’s new name again, she headed upstairs.
When she reached the hall to the office, LuAnn Donovan stood just outside the door, waiting for her.
“Hey.”
She walked over and took her hands to squeeze them. Now that she knew this woman’s life had been anything but the perfect vision her family had projected to the world, she couldn’t describe the feelings in her heart. If anything ever happened to Finn, Ellie would take LuAnn in herself so she wouldn’t have to go back to her abusive husband.
“Hi, Mrs. Donovan.”
“We heard about Mr. Fredericks.”
Ellie nodded.
“Simon Chambers had a heart attack at his office and he came to us.”
She gasped. “Simon Chambers died?”
LuAnn nodded. “Finn sent me to coordinate times with you.”
Her heart fell. “Oh.” Who’d have thought she’d be so miserable over Finn not talking to her? She’d always believed she was only sexually attracted to him. Always believed he was a liar. Knowing that he wasn’t seemed to change everything. What if he’d really liked her, as a person, and she’d more or less thrown that back in his face?
“Come into my office and we’ll coordinate.”
LuAnn sat on the chair in front of her desk. Ellie took the chair behind it, and they went over the times she’d set with Mrs. Fredericks. Because both deceased had attended the same church, Ellie agreed to call Mrs. Fredericks and set a different time for her husband’s funeral.
LuAnn left with a smile, and Ellie had just picked up the receiver of the phone when Sandy appeared in her doorway. She replaced the receiver.
“What’s up?”
“I got a call from Finn about the Chambers funeral.” She sat on the chair in front of Ellie’s desk. “Terrible thing. I heard he was going to retire next month.”
“Wow. That is awful.”
“Anyway, I got Finn’s dinner menu and figured I’d come and get yours.”
Remembering how she’d run out on Sandy a few hours ago, she glanced down at her desk. “A phone call would have been fine.”
“It’s such a pretty day, I thought I’d take the walk.”
Happy to avoid talking about her quick departure that morning, Ellie nodded and printed out her menu for Sandy. As she handed it to her, Sandy caught her wrist. “You know we love you, right?”
Ellie shook her head. “Don’t. You don’t have to say things like that. I understand.”
She said the words Sandy wanted to hear because she should believe her and she should let go of the past. She had to work here. She needed these people, and if her disagreement with Finn had taught her anything, it was that she had to trust. Believing Sandy, accepting the apology, was her first shaky step.
Sandy beamed. She squeezed Ellie’s fingers, then released them. “Did I see LuAnn leaving?”
Confused by the quick change of subject, Ellie said, “You did. She came to coordinate times.”
“Oh, I thought Finn would do that.”
“No. He sent his mom.”
“But you’re friends.”
Ellie sniffed a laugh. They might have been friends. Or maybe Finn had thought they were friends, but she’d blown that. “Not even close. We’re competitors. We always have been.”
“Yes.” Sandy laughed. “You always were.” Her gaze lowered and she drew an imaginary circle on the desk. “You know, with you being a Dinner Belle and all, that little competition you have with Finn might work in our favor.”
She frowned.
“Work in whose favor?”
“Remember how we were discussing needing something to draw customers to our fund-raiser?”
“Yes.”
“After you left this morning, we got to thinking about what might draw people in, and someone suggested a ‘Dunk the Clown’ booth.”
An ugly suspicion caused her to sit up and pay attention. She’d seen Dunk the Clown booths at other town fund-raisers when she was a kid. Volunteers sat on a seat above a tank of water, and people paid money to throw balls at a bull’s eye. When they hit it, the person in the booth fell into the tank of water. That was why it was called Dunk the Clown.
“We make money two ways. We attract people to the park where we’ll be selling food and drinks and fifty-fifty tickets. But we’ll also get the proceeds from the money people spend to try to dunk you and Finn.”
And here was the fulfillment of the ugly suspicion. “Dunk me and Finn?”
“Well, you said you were competitors. So we would bill this as something like a match to see which of the two of you earns more money, and hopefully enough people will want to help you earn money for charity—”
“Or see the two of us dunked.”
“Or see the two of you dunked,” Sandy agreed, “that we would make a few hundred bucks.”
“Are you nuts?”
Sandy laughed. “It’s one of our warmest Junes in town history. You’ll get your shorts and T-shirt wet, and they’ll dry in the sun. But you’ll make money for a good cause.” She sighed. “I didn’t want to have to pull out the big guns, but you and Finn are the Dinner Belles’ two biggest customers. And we’re a charitable organization. We don’t get paid. Even those donations you make for every funeral are given back to the community. When a family can’t afford to have an after-funeral lunch, we donate it. Not just our services but the food too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Sandy rose. “You don’t have to say yes, but we’re desperate. And if the proprietors of two competing businesses could stir up some fun competition, that would be a fantastic way for us to make money.”
Picturing herself in a wet shirt and jean shorts, with wet hair and running makeup, Ellie grimaced. “Maybe.”
“Plus, it will prove to everybody that the big city didn’t change you. That you’re a good sport. You haven’t been out in the community much. This is a good way to get yourself in front of everybody.”
