by Judy Duarte
“No. But I can call the paramedics if you need medical help.”
Gram gave a little humph, then said, “I doubt that’ll be necessary.”
“Me, too,” Kristy said, hoping to put Renee at ease. “Come on. I’ll show you how to get her in the chair. She can help a little.”
Moving Gram was a bit awkward at first, but Kristy had to give Renee credit. She jumped right in and gave it her best shot.
Once they had Gram set up in the living room and turned on the television, Kristy returned to her room to fix her hair.
She could hardly remember the last time she’d done anything more than pull it back in a ponytail or let it hang loose.
So it took her a while to get her fingers and the curls to comply.
Ten minutes later, she returned to the living room, her hair swept up into a twist, the pearls adorning her ears and throat.
“Oh, wow,” Renee said. “You look super.”
“Yeah, Mom.” Jason beamed. “If you had a crown, you’d look just like a princess.”
“Thanks, honey.”
For a moment, Jesse’s comment about being a child of the king came to mind. Kristy still struggled with the whole concept, but she decided that, when she went to the Delacourts’ house tonight, she was going to try to carry herself with the grace and dignity of a woman born to nobility.
The trouble was, she was afraid she’d feel more like a duck sitting on a pond—calm and serene on top of the water while paddling like crazy underneath.
Renee was glad to have paid employment, even if this particular job wasn’t exactly what she’d planned on landing.
There was an upside, though. She was getting dinner out of it—a hot meal for a change.
And she’d also get to watch a little television—a luxury she hadn’t had in a long time, since Mary Ellen had never hooked up the cable at her apartment and without it, the reception was awful.
There was a downside, too. While Renee wanted to do an exceptional job so that she’d be asked to come back and work again, she wasn’t exactly sure what Jason’s mom expected from her.
And then there was Mrs. Smith to deal with. She had a mean expression glued on her face and refused to return a smile, which wouldn’t have hurt her to do.
She also smelled funny, although it wasn’t stale sweat, tobacco or booze, which is what some of the people who had lived in Mary Ellen’s apartment building used to smell like.
This was more like medicine, Renee decided.
It would be nice if Mrs. Smith gave Jason’s mom a thumbs up about Renee, but that wasn’t likely. She just hoped she didn’t give her a thumbs down.
She tried one last time to connect with her by saying, “You have a nice house.” And she did; Renee wasn’t just blowing smoke about that.
“It’s not so nice when you know you’ll be cooped up in it for the rest of your life,” Mrs. Smith said.
Oh, yeah? Renee wanted to snap back. How would you like living in a tree?
But she didn’t respond because, to be honest, Renee would much rather live in a tree house than be stuck in a hospital bed.
So she asked, “Are you guys hungry? I could put dinner on the table.”
“I want to eat,” Jason said.
Good. She had an excuse to get out of the living room and away from Mrs. Smith’s evil eye.
When Renee had finished setting out the food, she wheeled Mrs. Smith into the dining room and made a place for her so the chair would fit.
They pretty much ate in silence, other than Jason’s happy chatter about “the cool go-cart” Tommy’s stepdad was helping him build “with a real engine and everything.”
But to his credit, Jason never once mentioned the Bushman Trail or the tree house, which was a huge relief.
After dinner, Renee took Mrs. Smith back into the living room and turned on the television for her.
Renee expected her to be super fussy about the station they watched, but she wasn’t. She let Jason have his choice, which was good.
In fact, she was pretty nice to him, so Renee had to give her credit for that. She didn’t like to see kids yelled at or mistreated.
Eager to put some space between her and the crotchety woman, Renee said, “If you don’t need anything from me, I’ll go into the kitchen and do the dishes.”
“Go ahead and do that. We’re fine.”
“Yeah,” Jason added. “But hurry back so you can watch SpongeBob.”
Cartoons weren’t all that appealing anymore, so she was glad she wouldn’t miss out on something good. “Start it without me, okay? You can tell me about the parts I missed during the commercials.”
Renee not only did the dishes, but she cleaned the stove, too, making sure that the kitchen was cleaner than she’d found it. She also took out the trash and mopped the floor.
All the while, she kept poking her head into the living room to check on Jason and his grandmother. She hated to admit it, but she was kind of avoiding Mrs. Smith.
No matter what Dawn had said the other day about old people, the only ones Renee had ever run into had been grumpy and mean.
And Mrs. Smith was no different.
But Renee wouldn’t complain. She needed this job. Maybe, if Jason’s mom came home and saw that Renee hadn’t just eaten up all her food and watched television all night, she’d hire her permanently.
If she did, Renee planned to make the best of it—even if she half-expected Mrs. Smith to jump out of that chair with a wild-eyed cackle, grab a broomstick, and fly through the house.
Craig had volunteered to be away from the house while the Delacourts hosted the dinner party for the Rensfields, but Cassandra wouldn’t hear of it.
“Don’t be silly, Craig. We’d love to have you with us tonight.”
He had no choice but to believe her. “All right. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Not really. I have all the food prepared and the table set. I’ve also hired someone to serve the meal and clean up. So there’s nothing to do other than to welcome our guests.”
At five-thirty, Cassandra’s parents, Carlton and Shirley Price arrived. Daniel greeted his father-in-law with a firm handshake and his mother-in-law with a stiff-armed hug before introducing the couple to Craig.
Dressed in an expensive gray suit, Carlton was a dapper gent in his late sixties. His yellow shirt and striped tie coordinated nicely with the silk dress his wife, Shirley, wore. Together they made a sharp-looking pair.
“I hope you don’t mind us coming early,” Carlton said. “We’ve been looking forward to this get-together and to meeting the Rensfields.”
“It’s an exciting night,” Cassandra said. “You have no idea how pleased we are that Shana and Brad have finally made a match. When they were in high school, I thought they’d make a perfect couple someday. It’s almost as though I had a premonition about it.”
Carlton leaned toward his daughter as though sharing a confidence, yet not lowering his voice enough to keep his words a secret. “From what I’ve heard, the Rensfields made a killing in stocks a while back, selling at just the right time. So Shana made a great catch.”
Daniel’s smile faded. “I’d like to think that Brad is the one who lucked out.”
Cassandra placed a hand on her husband’s forearm. “Sweetheart, will you please pour Mother a glass of wine and get Daddy his bourbon and water?”
“Certainly.” Daniel drew away from his wife and addressed Craig, his grin only a shadow of what it had been earlier. “Can I get you something, Pastor?”
“Not right now. Thanks.”
As Daniel left the room, Craig turned to Carlton, only to find the man was making his way toward a built-in bookshelf that boasted fancy knickknacks as well as leather-bound volumes of the classics.
Somewhat at a social loss, Craig was left to eavesdrop on the women’s conversation.
“Who will be coming tonight?” Shirley asked her daughter.
“The Rensfields, of course—Eric and Dar
la. I’m sure you’ll like them. Eric has been very generous with his financial support of the hospital, as well as the Boys and Girls Club. And Darla volunteers a lot of time to various charitable organizations.”
“Will Brad be here?”
“He’s going to drop by for a while, but I’m afraid he’ll have to leave early.”
Shirley smiled. “I’m glad I’ll get a chance to meet him.”
“You’re going to love him, Mom. He’s the nicest young man. Not what you’d call handsome, but he certainly carries himself well.” Cassandra waited a beat before adding, “I’ve also invited Kristy, the maid of honor.”
Shirley’s brow lifted. “Was that necessary?”
Cassandra cleared her throat, then dropped her voice. “Shana insisted.”
“Well, then. You didn’t have much choice. I’m not at all sure why she insisted upon—”
Cassandra slid an arm around her mother’s waist, as though roping her in—or perhaps joining forces. “I know, but there isn’t much that can be done about that.”
“No, I suppose there isn’t.”
A knot formed in Craig’s gut, and he clenched his hands at his sides. For some reason, he had the urge to go to bat for a woman he hardly knew. But he kept his mouth shut. He really didn’t have a dog in this fight, and he ought to be glad that he didn’t.
Daniel reentered the room and served drinks to his in-laws, providing them with linen cocktail napkins. “We’ve hired a waiter for this evening, so he’ll be taking care of refills and passing out hors d’oeuvres.”
The doorbell rang, and Daniel excused himself. When he returned, he escorted the Rensfields into the living room and made introductions.
Eric Rensfield, a short, heavyset man in his late sixties, wore a dark blue suit and a predominantly yellow tie, the only thing about him that seemed noteworthy. With sparse gray hair, hazel eyes, and thin lips, the man seemed almost nondescript.
On the other hand, his wife, Darla, was a shapely and attractive brunette who wore a red knit dress and appeared to be about twenty years younger than her husband.
Again the doorbell rang, and this time Daniel brought Brad into the fold. The fair-haired young man resembled his father more than his mother, and Craig couldn’t help wondering if he and Shana, whose portrait suggested she was a striking young woman, would seem just as mismatched as his parents.
Probably not.
“Thank you for inviting us to dinner,” Brad said. “My parents and I have been looking forward to this evening. My only regret is that Shana can’t be here.”
“I’m sorry about that, too, Brad.” Daniel placed a hand on his future son-in-law’s shoulder and grinned. “How’s school?”
“It’s going very well. I’m prepping for the bar and looking for a law clerk position this summer.” Brad chuckled and leaned his head toward Daniel. “Of course, I haven’t settled on one yet, so if you hear of an opening … maybe at your firm?”
“I’m afraid all of our positions have been taken,” Daniel said.
Shana’s grandfather, who’d been looking on, eased into the conversation. “Surely, you can find a place for him, Daniel. It’s usually just a matter of pulling in a favor or two.”
Daniel seemed to stand taller, straighter. “I’ll certainly let you know if I hear of any openings, Brad.”
Tension rolled into the room like fog over the Pacific coast. Craig wasn’t sure if the women had picked up on it, but he had.
And the maid of honor hadn’t even arrived yet.
The waiter, a tall, lanky gentleman dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, carried a silver tray with a variety of appetizers. He stopped and offered Craig his choice.
Craig took a crab-stuffed pastry puff and a napkin. “Thank you.”
The doorbell gonged again, and this time Craig volunteered to answer, hoping for a reprieve but not expecting one. On the way to the entry, he glanced at his watch and wondered how long this evening would last. Too long, he suspected.
When he swung open the door, he was expecting to see Kristy, but his jaw nearly dropped to the ground at the sight of a stunning, red-haired beauty standing before him in a classic black dress and pearls, her curls swept up in a stylish swirl.
“There were several cars already parked out front,” she said, “so I hope I’m not late.”
Even her voice held an elegant lilt tonight, and he struggled to shake off the pulse-skittering effect by stepping aside to allow her in.
“Actually,” he said, “you’re right on time.”
Her heels clicked on the travertine flooring in the foyer, while her perfume—an exotic, tropical scent—followed her into the house. As they walked to the living room, where the others waited, he couldn’t help casting another glance her way.
He hoped she didn’t think he was ogling her, but he couldn’t seem to get over her metamorphosis from the tired waitress he’d met two Wednesdays ago or the single mother he’d run into at the park.
Would it be appropriate for him, as a minister and practically a stranger, to tell her how pretty she looked?
He suspected it would be, but he was afraid he’d stumble over the words like an adolescent on hormone overload. And, strangely enough, as they reached the others, he felt remiss for not complimenting her when he had the chance.
The conversations hushed at her entrance, while drinks and hors d’oeuvres stalled in mid-sip or mid-bite.
Daniel was the first to recover and greet her. And once the formalities were out of the way, he asked, “Can I get you a drink?”
“Yes, please. Diet soda if you have it.”
“I’m sure we do.”
As Daniel excused himself, Brad approached Kristy, a grin stretched across his face. “Hey, it’s good to see you. How long has it been?”
“Five or six years, I suppose.”
Brad’s smile bore a hearty sign of male appreciation. “They were certainly good to you.”
Her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“The years,” he said. “They’ve been good to you.”
She seemed to stiffen.
“You’ve always been hot,” he explained, “but now you’re almost breathtaking.”
She thanked him, but the words fell flat.
Craig could see why they would, though. A guy who was engaged to be married shouldn’t tell another woman she was hot and breathtaking, even if she was.
It was weird, but Craig had this odd compulsion to take Kristy by the hand and lead her away from the Rensfield heir.
And away from this dinner party.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” Kristy said to Brad. “You certainly scored when Shana agreed to marry you.”
“I know.”
While Craig tried to connect the dots between the words spoken and those omitted, Brad’s mother called her son to her side.
He shrugged and threw up his hands in a Hey-what’s-a-guy-supposed-to-do? manner. “If you’ll excuse me …?”
“Of course.” Kristy turned to Craig, and her gaze seemed to latch on to his as though she was trying to stay afloat.
He wished that he could somehow help, but he didn’t know how or even why he should. So he filled the silence by asking, “How’s your grandmother?”
“She’s doing all right. I hired a new sitter tonight, so I can’t stay long.”
“I was hoping for an early evening myself.” He didn’t explain, didn’t think he had to.
“You know,” she said, “I meant to call you today.”
She did? His pulse rate spiked. “Why?”
“The new sitter’s name is Renee, and she said you knew her and would be a reference. From what I understand, she’s a volunteer at the soup kitchen.”
Before he could ponder a truthful response that wouldn’t hurt Renee’s chance of employment, Daniel returned with Kristy’s diet soda and announced that dinner was ready.
“After you.” Daniel motioned for Kristy to lead the way to the dining room, whe
re the table had been artistically set with fine china, crystal, and silver.
A vase of tropical flowers served as a centerpiece and was flanked by white tapered candles, each flame flickering and adding an elegance and warmth to the formal occasion.
“Pastor?” Daniel asked. “Would you say grace?”
Craig nodded, then bowed his head, making the prayer both short and sweet. When he finished, the waiter served Caesar salad and the meal began.
The conversation was a little too polite and stiff for Craig’s taste, but he figured it was par for the course for everyone else.
As the waiter removed the dinner plates, Brad scooted back his seat and asked to be excused. “As much as I’d like to stay, I need to get home and prepare for a moot trial tomorrow.”
“Of course,” Cassandra said, “but I was hoping we could discuss the wedding plans over dessert. Apparently we should have done that over dinner instead.”
Brad placed his napkin on his plate and stood. “I’m sure you don’t need me here for that. I’m going to be busy until after I take the bar, so I’ll go along with anything Shana wants.”
As Daniel walked Brad to the door, Darla Rensfield turned to Cassandra and said, “We can still discuss the wedding plans. Have you checked with the country club yet?”
“Yes, I have.” Cassandra smiled and settled back in her seat. “I’ve locked in the twenty-fourth of August. It’s a Saturday evening. Shana and Brad can have the ceremony outdoors. There’s a pond on number ten with a pair of weeping willows that would make a lovely backdrop.”
“How many guests can the club hold?” Darla asked.
“Four hundred.” Cassandra bit her bottom lip, then glanced across the table at Darla. “Do you think they will be able to accommodate everyone?”
“I hope so.”
Kristy lifted her linen napkin and dabbed her lips before laying it next to her plate. “Shana wants a small, intimate wedding, so there won’t be a seating problem.”
“Shana mentioned that, but we have a lot of friends and associates who must be invited.” Cassandra turned to Brad’s mother. “Don’t worry, Darla. I’ve always been able to get my daughter to see reason. The Rensfield-Delacourt wedding will be talked about for years.”
