“Potluck. It’s for charity. Mrs. Tilzner and also for our uniforms,” one boy said.
“She’s a nice teacher and has some cancer thing. The food’s good,” the second boy chimed.
“Yeah. My mom made the meatballs and helped out.”
“Just down that way a quarter mile.” The boy pointed the opposite direction from town. “They decorated with candles and everything.”
Michael looked at Paige.
She smiled and nodded quickly.
He turned the car and headed toward the potluck dinner. “I said I’d take you for a candlelit dinner, Amelia Paige Myers. You heard the boy. They have candles and everything.”
“Cheapskate.”
“Nu-uh. I brought wine.” Michael teased.
She knew both were clearly pleased with their choice. The quiet dinner could wait.
The car lot was filling up. Paige insisted on walking from the car and quickly slipped into her shoes once inside when he left to hang up the coats. She straightened her hem and turned to see stares in her direction. Most people were in jeans, some in slacks or simple wool dresses. Michael was at her side, getting equal stares but from the women. He beamed back.
The venue was a gym with the entrance doors blocked by registration tables, manned by a row of middle-aged women. Most attendees were bringing in food items and paying the minimal ten-dollar fee a head, less for children.
“We didn’t bring anything, but I have wine,” Michael explained pulling out his wallet.
“Let me see.” The gray-haired woman eyed the bottles and simply took the white. Michael smiled. “Okay, you can pay half.”
“It’s for charity, right?” Michael asked. She nodded in response. “Well then, we should pay our fair share.”
“Okay, but it’ll cost you, twenty a head, double if you want full treatment.”
“Full treatment it is.” He handed over the money, Paige held to his arm for warmth as the wind whipped from the door every time someone opened it.
The registration woman put the remaining bottle of wine in a paper bag, “Keep it like that. Regulations.” Then the woman dinged a bell repeatedly and called out, “Big spenders.”
All eyes turned to them. Again. Out of nowhere came a high school girl, smiling with an abundance of braces. She escorted them into the gym.
Michael entered with his arm around Paige, her heels conspicuously clicking on the floor. She was thankful to cling to him with all the attention they were getting. The girl had asked them to go through the food line and indicated their table dead center of the gym where she put a sign saying “Reserved” and wrote a question mark where it indicated a name.
Dish after dish lined one wall of the gym. Just like the people in the room, the food came in all shapes, sizes, colors, and even ages, some more recognizable than the next. The people near them loaded their plates with astonishing speed and volume, cutting around them. A few smiled her way. She smiled back, still nervous from the conspicuous attention her outfit garnered.
Michael was not. He spoke with ease as he piled two plates high, one with salads and sides having gotten advice from women near him. The smell of the warm food inspired Paige to follow suit, and her plate filled.
It was only when they sat at their assigned table that Paige noticed it had a real table cloth littered with red confetti hearts and a small tea light.
“Not bad, Mr. Groundhog,” she said, smiling warmly, pushing back a soft curl. Once seated, she felt far more comfortable. That and the table was tight. Michael was close. The room quickly filled with people. The noise level began to increase.
“Mmm. This dumpling, whatever, is actually tasty.” Paige swallowed happily, candlelight shining a glow on her colorful filled plate.
“Lucky for us, the registration lady left us the screw top wine. Actually, this is the nicer bottle. Care for some wine, Flee?” Michael spoke over the din.
“Yes, please. I really need it. Did you notice the stares?”
“What’d they say?” shouted an exceptionally short octogenarian with trifocal glasses and a dentured-smile. She sat at an adjacent table with two other blue-haired women, all huddled close to each other. She stuffed a finger in her ear and adjusted her hearing aid with a piercing whistle.
One woman was taller than the others with a long neck and a football helmet of hair dyed jet black. She answered first. “He found some fleas in the wine.”
“Then she said if you have to pee, go upstairs,” said the one with a large nose and a profound number of wrinkles.
“Oh,” said the first smiling and nodding her head. She looked like an elderly fairy in thick glasses. “He must not need to go. He’s just staring at her pretty face. They make a lovely couple, don’t they?”
The wrinkled one just sneered, and the tall one announced that she liked the softer food better. She scraped some of her food onto the wrinkled one’s plate. The music pumped on, quieting many conversations. It was actually a lovely mix of recorded classical music. The elderly fairy woman swung her feet to the music and nodded her head in time to it.
Paige raised her wine glass. “To a night on the town.”
“And the whole town in our night,” Michael added. They laughed, drank, and ate. “I promised you atmosphere, just not what kind.”
“Well, personally I like it all. Apart from this pink stuff.”
He tasted from her plate. “Has your aunt’s baking written all over it.”
They both cringed and nodded their heads.
“Got to hand it to you, Groundhog Man, you keep taking me to the most memorable places.”
The elderly fairy was smiling at Paige and did a happy finger wave, then giggled at being noticed. Paige waved back and raised her wine glass to her. Michael saw the exchange and joined in, toasting the elderly trio.
“To your—” His words were lost by the loudspeaker.
“Hello, folks. Thanks for coming out in the snow. Knew you would. We’re hearty folks and all the more so with that food, eh? I want to thank the organizers and all of you for the fine food.”
There was applause.
“Except Millie’s pink ambrosia.”
Many laughed.
“Settle down now. You know she makes it for Leroy. You here, Leroy? There he is. Course, he is. Charitable man.”
“Has to be!” someone chimed in.
More laughter.
“Anyway, we have a long way to go to reach our goals. Let’s all dig in and buy those fifty/fifties. We all know Mrs. Tilzner and her fine contributions.” A smattering of applause. “That’s right, let’s give her a hand.”
She stood weakly and waved to solid applause and cheers.
“Then there’s the Cougar uniforms, and if there’s enough, something for the girl’s uniforms, too. Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. Maybe you’ll win and get something extra. Be generous if you can.”
At that, students descended with tickets in hand. A small teenage boy approached their table. His voice cracked as he asked, “Any chance you’ll buy some?”
“Sure. How many do you think we should buy?” Michael tried to encourage the boy’s eye contact, but he only shrugged. He looked like he was going to crumble, staring at the ground.
Paige asked him kindly, “Are you one of the Cougars?”
He shook his head no.
“Do you know Mrs. Tilzner?”
He nodded. “She’s real cool.”
“I see. How about if we take a bunch of tickets then.”
The boy looked up. She smiled at him.
“Here you go.” Michael gave him a hundred-dollar bill.
The boy energetically pulled off stack after ten-stack of red tickets. Michael draped them over Paige as if it were fine jewelry, leaned in, and kissed her. The boy ran off screaming that he sold all of his.
“Care to make a dash for it?” Michael asked her as they finished what they wanted of their meal. He rose to clear their plates.
“And skip dessert
not to mention all the loot we could win?” She motioned her head to the ladies.
Michael nodded in understanding and handed the elderly ladies some of the tickets and took plates from two of them. The wrinkled one groused, not allowing him to help. She stood and thumped her walker behind Michael to the dish drop off.
“Where are they going?” the little fairy woman shouted but was ignored by the other.
Paige leaned in and answered, “Clearing dishes. They’ll be back soon.”
“Ohh,” her lips held the word in delight. With eyes big as saucers, she asked, “Are you from Alabama?”
“No. Carolina. Originally my family’s from around here.”
“Around where?” the tall one repeated with a sneer.
“Underwear?” The little fairy woman played with her hearing aid again.
“Yup. Pinching me again,” the tall one said.
They both nodded together. Paige just smiled at the odd turn of comments.
Michael returned, carrying a tray of dessert plates. He put two on their table and three for the old ladies who smiled at that “nice young man.” The wrinkled one just shrugged and traded plates while the tall one looked away.
Paige and Michael ate mystery desserts, drank their wine poured from the paper bag and enjoyed the swirl of the remaining floor show of people. He leaned in, hand to Paige’s cheek, and pulled her to a sweet kiss. The lights flickered.
“Impressive. You did that?” she asked pointing to the lights.
He shook his head. “I did this though.” He slid his hand under the table cloth and onto her thigh.
Her breath hitched. “Is that offer to make a dash still good?”
Before he could answer, the announcer came on. “Okay folks. Time for what you have been waiting for.”
“Looks like he agrees. Let’s go.” Michael said.
“Shh, son, the numbers,” the old fairy woman smiled, clinging to the tickets he’d given them.
The atmosphere became palpable with excitement. Numbers were called out for two door prizes first. Cheers surrounded the tables of winners. The large prize was next. Paige followed along, staring at her own tickets as the number was called.
“You won!” Paige cried out to Michael.
It was as if the whole room groaned in one sound followed by comments.
“Figures some stranger gets it.”
“Outsider always does.”
Michael was called up to the front with the winning ticket. Murmurs and sneers continued to follow him.
“Heard he bought five hundred tickets.”
“Just getting his money back.”
Michael just held his shoulders strong and walked with a steady pace up to the man with the microphone.
“Ticket’s good,” the announcer confirmed. More groans.
“I’d like to give it back.” Michael said, his voice carrying into the microphone.
“How much?”
“All of it. If I do, will you reach your goals and get them their uniforms?”
“For the boys,” one girl called out. Some boys cheered.
Michael comfortably spoke into the microphone, “Who’s the coach for the girl’s team?”
“I am,” a strong woman’s voice called out.
“No promises, but I can see if my company will sponsor them. I’m Michael Yotahala Lukas. See me afterward, so I can get your information.”
The girls cheered.
“And,” Michael continued. “I might be visiting the area, but Paige, here, is not a stranger.” All eyes turned to Paige. “It’s her big night out. She’s working real hard to restore the Dornheim place. Do you know it?”
Murmurs buzzed around the room.
“Real dump now.”
“Eye sore.”
“It is, but it won’t be. Amelia Paige Myers may sound like she’s from the South, but it’s her grandparents place. She and her aunt, Linney Dornheim Smith, are pouring all they have, their time, their savings, and hard work into that place every day. You know what that can be like.”
Murmurs of agreement followed.
“So, if you have any goods or services,” he said slowly for emphasis, “for a reasonable price or want to buy something from the home, please leave a card. Paige would surely appreciate it.”
Paige sat staring at Michael. Embarrassment readily gave way to gratefulness when others approached her. Soon, music came back on and the crowd shifted and mingled. Card after business card dropped onto her table as people started to filter out. Some mentioned what they did “porches.” Or what they needed “walnut hutch” and even wrote it on the card or a slip of paper. Some just gave their humble thanks or a blessing. Paige wrote on the backs of some of the cards or papers and accepted their thanks. Michael was tugged over to the Tilzner family before he could return to help.
“Bet he gave the money back just to show off to her,” the tall woman said, pointing to Paige.
“Bet he did it just to get in her pants,” the wrinkled one snarled.
“Yes, I love a good dance,” the tall one responded.
“I love young love,” the little octogenarian said. She pushed up her trifocals, beamed, and added with glee, “Oh look! Cookies!”
Mrs. Tilzner’s grandchildren had moved around to the all remaining tables handing out carefully decorated, heart-shaped cookies, each in its own plastic bag. Two little girls came to Paige, and one handed her a cookie.
The little one didn’t speak but just clutched Paige in a hug and said, “Fank you, nice lady.”
No amount of control could stop the soft tears from rolling down Paige’s cheek. Michael caught her eye from across the room and looked at her quizzically. She just smiled and bit her lip. She mouthed the three little words but wasn’t sure he saw it.
When the old ladies wobbled away, escorted by the nursing aides, the littlest one said, “Ida. That was her name. Ida Dornheim. Big heart.”
Paige could have sworn the others said, “Big breasts.”
“What about nests?”
Chapter Eleven
“Mmm mmm, I wish time would stop.” Paige said with a languid sigh.
“I think it just did. That wind-up clock finally stopped ticking.”
Michael and Paige were curled up on the ancient, sheet-covered loveseat. Throw pillows made it somewhat comfortable. His suit jacket was off and she was half draped on him, her LBD riding up.
She wiggled her toes toward the small fire. Nuzzling her cheek against his face, she turned and kissed him. He softly returned the kiss. Both were still too full and sedentary to move. Totally relaxed. He rubbed his full stomach.
“How’d you know to do what you did back there?” she asked. “It’s good you did what you did, when you did it, because I bet it’s needed more than I thought.”
“Not English, Flee.” His stomach rumbled.
She leaned up a bit. “The budget, the bills, the project costs—all red. How did you know?”
“I didn’t, Paige. Renovating a place always costs more than expected. You need help from professionals, and those costs really add up.” He smiled and brushed back her hair. “Truth is, I didn’t know what I was doing. It just all came out. I wanted them to see you as I do.”
“A woman with a drawl in a cocktail dress?”
“No. A woman who is trying to conquer a mountain with a broom. Make that several mountains.” His stomach made a strange gurgle. “All I did was tell them you needed their services. It’ll still cost you, but at least you might get their support and maybe even the townie rate.”
She nodded, turning a bit so she could rub his stomach. “It’s well…it’s like a whole community just gave their approval of some sort.”
Winky inched around the corner and rubbed the leg of the loveseat. Paige sighed, stretching in place, eyes locked to the embers of the fire. “And the food wasn’t that bad either.”
“I don’t know about that.” Michael lurched up, groaning, and ran to the powder room.
Winky jumped up and took Michael’s place on the warm love seat. He circled the spot, pushing against Paige, and purred.
“Hey, you’re not so bad, little fella, are you?”
He licked his paw and rolled against her more. She would think the exact opposite later when she saw the amount of fur he left on her little black dress. It became a little fur dress instead.
****
Romance came in many forms. A bad stomach wasn’t one of them. Their night of love making never followed. For Michael, it was a night of uncomfortable sleep and bathroom trips. Paige had found him the antacids and rushed out in the morning to bring back seltzer, ginger ale, and a drink with electrolytes, not knowing his remedy of choice. Her brothers used all three at different times, including a horrible recipe for hangovers involving things that made her flinch at the thought of it.
Michael was of no use in the de-hoarding process that day. She chose to tackle some paperwork, so she could keep him company. It was already early afternoon when they sat at the kitchen table while he sipped seltzer.
“Did you have the brown meatball?” he asked.
“Yes.” She taped business cards given to her onto a stained poster board she’d found. One section was for things people wanted to buy. The other cards were placed into categories of help offered.
“Okay, that wasn’t it. What about the spinach soufflé and potatoes?”
“Nope. Wait. I had scalloped potatoes. What soufflé?”
“Must be the culprit.” Michael moaned and popped another antacid.
“Sure. It couldn’t possibly be the amount you ate,” she said.
Michael burped and grinned sheepishly.
Linney entered the kitchen at that moment followed by Winky. She’d just returned from her job. “What’s all this?”
Paige began to tell her of their evening, the business cards, and how she was going to hang it in the hallway for easy use.
Her aunt cut her off, “No. This. You two sitting here,” Linney said. “He’s burping and popping antacid while you are surrounded by…accounting? How long have you two been together?”
Linney plated some leftovers and put them in the microwave. Michael looked green again.
A Paige in Cupid's Book Page 10
