by Grace Greene
I went back to the kitchen to get the plate.
The club members were due to arrive soon. Victoria had driven down to be on hand to help. When I’d called her and asked if she still wanted to participate, she’d said she’d check her calendar and then burst into laughter. “I’ll be there,” she promised. “I’ll be there so you can stay all cool and together. Like . . . what do they call it? A genial host?”
I laughed softly now. We all had skills and talents, all the nicer when they meshed well.
Victoria reappeared in sleek black slacks and a dressy shirt and heels. We’d decided to dress up a bit for the occasion. But not too much. What did one wear when hosting a book club meeting? Was there a preferred genial-host outfit? I didn’t have a clue. I settled for a silk blouse and slacks.
She mentioned my mood again as we were setting up the dining room. “You don’t seem nervous or anxious, Kara. You are cool, calm, and collected.”
“I’m always cool,” I replied, folding the napkins and laying one beside each plate.
Victoria arranged the silverware around the table. “You appear cool, but you rarely actually are.” She shook her head. “You forget I know what happens when you lose that cool.”
I fixed my gaze on her. “I’m not the only one here with a temper.”
She waved a fork in my direction. “There’s a technique to managing it. Better to vent it regularly than to go nuclear.”
I could’ve corrected her, but I didn’t. The reality was that I wore my frustration just below the surface as a protection. And others could sense it, I realized now, but they didn’t necessarily understand the fear that the appearance of strength was hiding. Yet the wall had been mostly dismantled. I was slower to shut people out. I called that a win.
“Just an FYI, Victoria. You’ll find I’m more even tempered now.” I eyed her. “But don’t test me.”
Victoria laughed. “I’m pretty tough myself. What was it your dad said? That you were resilient? Well, maybe it’s catching, because I’ve discovered I am too.”
“What you are is stubborn. You beat me out in that category every time.” I shook my head. “Sometimes maybe stubborn is a strength too.”
She stopped and stared.
I brushed at my face and my blouse. “What?”
“Something’s different.” She shook her head. “Not about your outfit, puh-lease. No, this is something else. What aren’t you telling me?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A grin slowly appeared on her face, and her eyes lit up. “Is it Will or Seth? You finally went on that date with Seth, right?”
I shrugged. “We talked but never actually went on the date. We cleared the air. We’re friends, and we’re good.”
Victoria clapped her hands. “It’s Will, then! You went out with Will.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because there’s a difference in your step. I don’t know how to describe it. Your step, how you’re standing. A general sort of . . . glow.” She grabbed my arms. “Are you officially in love?”
“Officially in love? What does that even mean?”
“Don’t deflect, Kara. Just tell me.”
I sighed. “Not love, not yet, but we did go out. We both agreed to take it slow.”
Victoria laughed loudly and threw her arms around me. She stepped back quickly, though, to smooth our blouses. We both heard the first car arrive and composed our expressions.
The ladies arrived for their meeting a car at a time.
“Didn’t Sue say five or six people?”
“She did.” Victoria laughed and held the door wide as several women walked in. In the driveway, another car had pulled up, and two more women exited and approached the steps. Someone else had parked in my new lot. Four women climbed out of that car.
I smiled in welcome.
The last person in was an older man. He greeted me pleasantly, and I returned the favor.
Several carried covered dishes. I gestured toward the kitchen, and Victoria, with a reassuring glance my way, left the front door and followed them down the hallway.
“Kara.”
It was Sue.
I said, “Looks like quite a turnout?” My question was heavy with implication.
“Oh my, yes. Excellent turnout. A few old members returned to our group, and a few new ones joined.” She lowered her voice. “Goodness, they were excited to see inside the house. I told them not to roam, but I hope you’ll understand if they sneak a peek into the rooms here on the main floor.”
“Of course. Do you think they’d enjoy a short tour?”
“They’d adore it. Most of these gals grew up around here but never had an opportunity to check the house out. With you here, they are extra curious.”
“Me?”
“About you and your plans for the retreat. Everyone is curious. Nicole knows how to sell a house and a story. And I’m delighted.” Her eyes twinkled, and she hurried to join the others in the parlor.
“Guess what, ladies and gent? Our hostess, Kara Hart, is offering to conduct a tour for anyone who’s interested.”
They gathered around me.
Sue did a few introductions, which I knew I’d never recall except for Reggie. As the one male, it was easy enough. Names like Jane and Claudia and Diane and Martha flowed together, but I smiled and nodded and tried to keep my polite face on. It was a sincere face. It was also my brave face. The one that made me believe I could do this. And do it better each time.
I saw Victoria carrying additional plates into the dining room. One of the ladies seemed to have attached herself to the work detail and had handfuls of silverware and napkins.
“We’ve got this handled, Kara,” Victoria said. “Go ahead with the tour.”
“Thanks.” I took a breath. Facing our first guests at Wildflower House, I said, “Let’s walk through, and if anyone has any questions, please speak up.”
It felt natural after we got started—especially when I realized Sue was happy to contribute her own memories and opinions to my narration. It felt almost as if Mary and Rob were walking with us as we passed through the foyer and stood in the sitting room with its view of the dining room and—back across the hall—of the grand staircase. I could see, as if I were seeing it through the eyes of our guests, the great pains we’d taken in our renovations and our genuine pleasure to host them. I glowed a little, feeling the reward for our effort.
There were a few questions, mostly about the fire screen paintings, and one of the women, Elaine, noted the “Hannah Cooper vase,” as she called it. Others asked about the windows and whether we were going to cover them. That last caused a discussion. The general consensus seemed to be that we shouldn’t.
We exited via the front door, and I guided my troop along the side yard path and into the fringes of the woods to show them the carriage house. As we left the house behind, Judy spoke up: “All those porches! We came by a few years ago—you know, just checking on Mary and Rob—but no one was home. I took a look around outside, but the grounds were so overgrown that I couldn’t see much except weeds and wildflowers.”
Reggie was more interested in the carriage house and offered some details on the construction. When we emerged back into the bright day, I directed them into the backyard.
“It’s still under construction,” I said. “But you can see where we’re headed with the flower garden. We call it the medallion. The flowering bushes are going in now, but we won’t be planting wildflowers until spring. We plan to put a fountain or a statue in the center.” We. It had always been we for Dad and me. After he’d died, I’d struggled trying to replace that with I. We felt more natural to me, and was more appropriate because it encompassed my friends and their invaluable help. “We haven’t decided which way to go yet.”
Jane said, “A fountain would be lovely.”
“A statue would be so elegant. It would suit the house and gardens,” Deborah said.
I left them for a
minute, at least consciously, remembering how Victoria had once called this house monstrous. It had echoed my own feelings too closely, and I’d been angry at her. Elegant, now. I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling that squeeze again, warm and full. The word now was elegant. And welcoming.
Reggie said, “You’ve got quite a view out here.” He pointed at the open area as it stretched from the house to the creek. “Definitely unimpeded.”
I gave him a quick look. “An unimpeded view? For?”
He answered, “For stargazing. No big light sources around. I’ll bet it gets dark out here.”
“Yes, quite dark.”
“Do you host events at night? Because I’m part of a club. We could set up our equipment out here on a clear night and . . . if that’s okay?”
Stargazing. Why not?
“I’m sure we could work that out, Reggie. We can discuss it later?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. We’ll do that.”
From a distance, we heard a woman’s voice. We turned to look. It was Sue Deale standing on the back porch, calling out, “Food’s ready. Come on in!”
As soon as the meal was finished, almost everyone adjourned to the parlor to begin their meeting. Victoria and I cleared the table, and the same silent woman pitched in to help. At one point, I asked her, “Don’t you want to join the others?” She answered in a hushed voice, “I can hear them just fine.” Her smile was sweet, and so I let her be. So the three of us cleaned and did our best to stay discreetly out of sight. The ladies were discussing different books, interwoven with mentions of grandbabies, crochet patterns, and stargazing. Victoria and I were washing dishes in the kitchen when Sue called my name. I stepped into their midst. The group was seated, arrayed in any chairs they could find, including the ones from the dining room. All had expectant looks on their faces.
Sue waved and cleared her throat. “I want you to know how much we are enjoying our book club meeting today. We aren’t done yet, but Mitzi has to leave early, so we wanted to do this now.” She glanced around the room as if seeking agreement from the membership and received smiles and nods.
The lady earlier introduced as Janet stood up and came forward holding a wrapped gift with a shiny bow. She had a shy smile and warm eyes. When she offered the package to me, I accepted it and thanked her, but I felt confused. I wasn’t accustomed to hostess gifts, plus this was a business. I looked at Sue.
She said, “Janet has a special talent—skill and talent both—called paper cutting.”
I nodded as if I knew what she was talking about. “How wonderful.”
Janet blushed.
Mitzi said, “It’s called scherenschnitte.”
Sue laughed. “I always have trouble with that word.” She looked at me. “Well, go ahead and open the gift. It’s a very special thank-you from us for your hospitality today.”
How odd receiving a wrapped gift felt—a tingling in my arms and a soft warmth in my chest. My cheeks felt hot. Dad had given me presents on the usual occasions, but he hadn’t wrapped them. I hadn’t expected him to.
The box was about the size of a long, narrow book, but it was thin and much lighter than that. I slid my finger under the paper fold to pop the tape.
The package held a framed white paper cutout against a dark blue background, and it was so much more than that. The pattern included birds, butterflies, and flowers, all wrapped around the Welcome running down the center.
“It’s beautiful,” I gasped. “Janet, did you create this?”
“I did. I create all sorts of scenes and even 3-D items like trees and ornaments.”
“Amazing.” Impulsively, I hugged her. “It’s perfect.”
Janet smiled broadly, her cheeks still pink and her eyes bright. “Well, some are done from patterns. But some,” she added with an extra oomph, “are my patterns.”
“It’s perfect, and especially perfect and appropriate for Wildflower House.” I scanned the room and the faces all staring at me. For a moment, I could only stand and feel the goodwill, the sweet energy surrounding me; then I went to a wall where the bookcase wasn’t. I held the framed cutout up to the empty space. “Should it hang here? What do you all think?”
When their meeting was done, everyone lined up on the porch for a group photo.
“Smile!”
Someone yelled, “Cheese!”
They hugged each other and smiled broadly, and I snapped the picture.
“Now you,” Reggie said. “Stand there with all the other ladies.”
“Oh. Okay, yes.” I handed my phone to him. We all posed together, and Reggie snapped pictures with a series of phones. Finally, we were done.
“Lovely. Great photo. Thanks, everyone,” I said. It felt as though we’d re-created a slice of history, a vignette of this house and those women who’d posed on this porch long ago. I smiled and felt it inside and out. I may have glowed with delight.
Everyone broke apart, and the ladies and Reggie went to claim their dishes and other items. Sue stayed.
“We’re your first event,” Sue said.
I shook my head. “Not exactly. We aren’t officially open for business yet. You are all my personal guests today.”
“So we were your beta testers?”
I smiled. “That sounds right.”
“Kara, listen, I have friends who might be interested in renting your place for small events over the winter. Not stay overs. For instance, the Ladies Auxiliary was talking about holding their Christmas party here.” She touched my arm. “It could be our best holiday party ever.” She nodded gravely. “I’ll drop by, and we can discuss it?”
Suddenly I felt shivery inside and blurted out, “Reggie wants to bring friends over for stargazing.”
“Excellent. You see? Word gets around!”
Somehow one of the ladies had ended up with my phone during the picture-taking session. She was waving it at me to get my attention and apparently touched an icon inadvertently. Suddenly music issued forth—Appalachian Spring.
I stopped moving and stared.
Sue’s eyes widened, and then she laughed loudly and clapped. “That was always Mary’s favorite. Did you know that?”
“Somehow I’m not surprised.”
After the photo the ladies and gentleman left by ones, twos, and threes, climbing back into the vehicles in which they’d arrived, and I waved to each departing vehicle. I felt surrounded by warm and fuzzy good feelings. This had been a confidence booster, for sure. Hosting the Ladies Auxiliary Christmas party would be a good next test. A little scary, yes, but in an exciting way.
I remembered my doubts about whether this endeavor would ever truly happen and when it had begun to feel real. Now I had evidence that it was. And that I could do this.
Nicole and I had discussed offering activities, like pottery and painting and even yoga. Now I had a book club and the Ladies Auxiliary. Even a group of stargazers. I chuckled at the idea that there seemed no limit to how high our dreams and aspirations might reach.
“What are you laughing at?” Victoria asked.
I smiled. “Nothing really. Just thinking silly thoughts.”
“Good.”
“Good? Why do you say that?”
“That means you’re open to potential. I’m taking off now.” Victoria spoke as she juggled her large tote and many bags of leftovers in containers. She held up the bags. “I left you some of the goodies.”
“Not too much, I hope. Nice of the ladies to leave them behind but even nicer of you to take them.”
“Mom will be thrilled.”
“Thank you for your help today,” I said with sincerity.
Victoria smiled. “My pleasure. It was a blast. That lady Laura was very sweet and so helpful.”
“I couldn’t have done this without you, Victoria.”
Victoria said, “I’d say you could’ve, but I’ll be honest. No, you couldn’t have, but not because of me. It’s because you aren’t an octopus. I was delighted to be here and to help you, but you
need to line up some guys and gals who’ll be happy to pitch in and handle fixed duties for you when you host events. Even when you don’t have to be out front as the hostess, it’s too much to juggle. Plus, providing occasional pickup work like this creates goodwill with the local people. Nice if they can benefit. And whenever possible, please include me too.”
With that, Victoria moved in a flurry of bags to her car and stowed them on the seat and the floor. I let her divest herself of the bags before saying, “Not so fast, Victoria.”
She stopped and stared at me. “Did I do something wrong?”
I shook my head. “No. You did everything exactly right.” I put my arms around her. I felt her body relax, the tension easing from her arms as she hugged me back. When I stepped away, I said, with a slight hitch in my voice, “Drive carefully.”
“I will.”
I saw her press her sleeve against her eyes as she climbed into the car. She threw me a smile, started the car, and drove off with a wave.
It seemed very silly, but that hug . . . I was getting the hang of it. I liked it.
In the sudden absence of people noise and the energy people generated, I noticed the small white car still in the parking lot. It was almost hidden by a tree and the new shrubbery. One guest remained? Or had someone accepted a ride home forgetting they’d driven? Anything was possible.
There was a small cough behind me. I turned to look back into the house. A tall, slender woman was standing half-hidden in the shadows of the hallways near the grand staircase. It was the older woman who’d been helping Victoria.
“Hello,” I said. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize someone was still here.” I couldn’t pull her name out of my head. I kept the smile on my face as I stepped back inside.
Her face was pale. Not entirely colorless but someone who would easily fade into the background. Quiet. Perhaps timid. I lowered my voice, not wanting to overwhelm her.
“I hope you had a good time today.”
