by Joyce Magnin
"Hi," the three women said at the same time.
"I'm so glad you all could come," Ruth said walking just a little ways into the living room. "Please make yourself at home. Griselda already brought out the hors d'oeuvres as you can see." She indicated the crowded coffee table. "We got those tiny sausages in tiny rolls, pigs in a blanket they call them, and some veggies for dipping, and I made a tropical dipping sauce also with honey and yogurt and chili powder."
"Take your time," Rose said.
"And oh, I have iced tea also. Made it fresh this morning— nice and sweet. Just the way my hubby used to take it. Oh—" she put her hand over her heart. "I miss him so much around the holidays."
"That sounds so nice," Charlotte said. "Thank you."
"You'll need to excuse me," Ruth said, "but I have to get back to my pineapples and cherries. But help yourself to some hors d'oeuvres."
"Yes, yes," I said. "We have everything Ruth mentioned along with cheese and crackers and cheese puffs with bacon and—you can see what else."
"Oh, and Griselda," Ruth said poking her head back into the living room. "Aren't you forgetting something?" She nodded toward the den.
I looked and then I remembered. "The leis."
"What?" Ginger said.
"Of course," Rose said. "We should all be wearing a lei."
"I have a pretty flowery lei for each of you to go with our tropical Thanksgiving theme," Ruth called.
Everyone but Rose who joined right in on the spirit of things choked back a chuckle as I went to retrieve them. I handed one to each. Ruth told me I was supposed to kiss everyone on the cheek also, but I vetoed that idea pretty quickly.
"This is nice," Charlotte said looking around. "It does look like a picture of a Hawaiian luau I saw in a magazine once. 'Course I never been. Herman was though, once. On a Fuller Brush Salesman Convention."
"I'd like to go someday," Rose said. "I think going down inside a volcano must be so thrilling. I hear you can get a tour to do that over there."
The conversation quickly died after that.
"So," I said. "Anybody want to watch football?" That was when I noticed Charlotte swiping tears away from her eyes. Then she blew into a yellow hanky. I noticed she looked a bit shell-shocked as I draped the flowery necklace over her shoulders but I didn't say anything then.
"Are you OK, Charlotte?" I said. "The holidays can be rough, I know." Charlotte wore a pretty blue dress with dainty white trimming.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just . . . just that it's been a long time since I had a Thanksgiving like this."
I put my arm around her. "Well, we're just so happy you're here. Now how about enjoying some snacks before the men arrive and wolf them all down." I whispered in her ear, "But I suspect it's your pies that will be the hit of the day."
"Thank you, Griselda," she said. "It does smell good in here. But not exactly traditional although you can never mistake the savory aroma of Bell's Seasoning."
"You'll see," I said. "I think it'll be a little of both."
"Griselda," Ginger Rodgers said, "could I trouble you for a glass of water?"
"Certainly, be right back."
I went into the kitchen and grabbed a water pitcher that was on the kitchen counter right next to a bowl of Ruth's Ambrosia Salad—a mixture of shredded coconut and chunks of pineapple, mandarin oranges, marshmallows, pecans, and two cans of fruit cocktail folded into whipped cream.
"How's it going Ruth?" I asked. "Need any help yet?"
She looked up from her work. She was dropping cherries into the centers of pineapple rings. "No yet, but the turkey will need to be checked soon and then I guess we get the vegetables on the table."
The doorbell went off again. "That's probably the boys," I said. "I'll go let them in."
I poured Ginger a glass of water and brought it to her.
"Thank you," she said.
I opened the living room door. Boris, Studebaker, Asa, and Zeb stood on the other side. My heart began to pound as I looked past them just in case Cliff had decided to come— invited or not. And I wouldn't put it past Ruth to have invited him—just for the fireworks. I honestly had not expected to see Zeb and it was hard to hide my surprise.
"Zeb? I . . . I didn't expect you."
"I know. I . . . Stu talked me into it."
"OK, I hated the idea of you spending the day alone, anyway."
"Me too." He smiled wide.
"So . . . happy Thanksgiving," I said. "Come on in. I'm not sure who knows who so you can make your introductions as needed."
That accounted for all the invited guests except Ivy Slocum. She was often a hit-or-miss guest. Ivy marched to her own drum and if she woke up that morning feeling sour or sad or just plain bored with the whole thing, she would stay away.
Zeb hung back. He grabbed my hand. "Are you glad to see me, Grizzy?"
I looked into his chocolate eyes. "Sure I am. I've been missing you."
"That's good. I've been missing you." Then he gave me a quick peck on the lips.
Soon the conversation was flowing as the three guys found seats. Zeb and Boris got into a discussion about a needed stoplight on the corner of Filbert and Main. Studebaker had a hard time keeping his eyes off of Ginger. She seemed amused by it. I glanced out the window again half expecting to see Cliff.
The aroma of the turkey drifted into the living room. I went to the kitchen to baste the bird. It was nearly ready and smelled heavenly. The skin was golden brown and crispy. I drizzled juices over it.
"Smells good," Ruth said. "How much longer?"
"I think it might be ready." I checked the meat thermometer and sure enough it was perfect—one hundred and sixty-five degrees. "I think I'll take it out so it can settle while we mash the potatoes and get everything else on the table."
I lifted the turkey onto the stove top.
"Whatcha doing?" Zeb said. He had come into the kitchen. "Come on." He took my hand. "Come and join the group. We were just talking about the fountain up in Paradise."
"OK. Just a few minutes."
"Well, don't take too long," he said.
"Go on," Ruth said. "Join the others. I got everything under control out here."
"No, no, that's not right."
"I'd love to help," Charlotte said. "I heard you talking and thought I'd see what I can do."
"Go on," Ruth said. "Spend time with Zeb. Charlotte can help."
"OK. As long as you're sure."
She looked at me and twisted her mouth.
"OK, OK," I said.
Zeb and I rejoined the group in time to hear Asa say, "It was exciting. When that water turned on and everything worked and the water went where it was supposed to and everyone cheered it was almost as though I had made it myself."
"I still can't believe that strange fella built it," Ginger said. "He worked almost day and night for weeks. Sure was noisy, but worth it."
"Where is Leon Fontaine?" I asked.
Asa shook his head and exchanged looks between him and Rose.
"I heard he was spending the day at Greenbrier," Ginger said. "He said something about helping to serve Thanksgiving dinners to the residents who have no family today."
My heart sank as I was reminded of Agnes. Rose seemed to sense my sadness. She patted my hand. "Your sister will be all right," she said. "You're going up there later."
Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. "I know. It's just that this is the first Thanksgiving we haven't spent together— all day long. It's weird."
"Try not to fret, Grizzy," Zeb said. "Agnes is a grown-up. She must understand the predicament she put you in."
"She put me in." I know I sounded incredulous. "It wasn't her fault. What Agnes became—I mean. She couldn't help it— leastways not early on. Not when there was all that bullying and talking going on."
"Calm down, Honey," Zeb said. "That might be true but you got to admit that she did have some say as she got older."
I took a deep breath and decided that Thanksgiving was not the
day to air the Sparrow family laundry. "OK, it will be nice to see her later."
"Sure it will," Ginger said. "And believe me, with Leon Fontaine making the rounds up there, well—he'll keep them all happy." She sipped her water. "There's just something about that man."
Studebaker looked at Boris like the two of them knew something the rest of us didn't. I figured Mildred had told Boris all about the Fountain of Youth thing and what Vera Krug had said. And if Boris knew, then Studebaker knew.
The doorbell rang. "That must be Ivy," I said.
Sure enough, Ivy was here wearing a perfectly hideous Thanksgiving sweatshirt with a giant cornucopia on the front. But that was Ivy for you. She held Mickey Mantle's leash. He was sitting like a reasonable gentleman.
"Hey, should I take Mickey Mantle out back?" Ivy asked.
"That's probably best."
"OK, I'll see you inside in a minute or two."
I rejoined the festivities.
"Excuse me," Ruth said coming into the living room. "But, Griselda, could you help me get food on the table, please? Dinner is almost ready."
"Oh, boy," Studebaker said. "I am hungrier than a bear in spring." He rubbed his belly. And then he playfully rubbed Boris's belly. "But you, my friend, could live off the fat of the land for a while."
Boris pushed his hand away. "Just try and keep me from that turkey and the mashed potatoes—my favorite."
Ruth and I placed all the various foods Ruth had prepared on the table. Her table looked wonderful with the bird of paradise centerpiece and little paper umbrellas in all the drinks and in the yams and potatoes. Everything was in place except the turkey, which I imagined she wanted to carry in after everyone was seated. And speaking of seats, I said, "Ruth, you're missing two chairs."
"Oh, oh, would you ask Zeb or Boris to run up to the attic and get two folding chairs."
"Sure."
"I'll go," Asa said.
"No problem," said Zeb.
I went back into the kitchen just in time to catch the gravy just before it boiled over onto the stove. I poured it into a white gravy boat and placed it on the table near Boris's seat.
Finally, everything was ready, and Ruth called the guests to the table.
She stood at the end, closest to the kitchen. It took her a moment to regain her composure. Her face was red, her hair a mess with streaks of flour and glop I couldn't recognize. She took a deep, shaky breath. "Welcome," she said as a tear ripped down her cheek. "Now for the star of the show."
I watched as everyone looked around the table at the fancy dishes Ruth had prepared. Asa turned his nose up at the Ambrosia. You'd think he was looking at a pile of horse manure the way he stared at it.
"Now I don't know if I ever seen a dish like that," he said. "What do you call it?"
"Ambrosia," I said. "It's got coconut, which I don't care for, and pecans and whipped cream and other things. Ambrosia is the food of the gods."
"Not for me," he said. "I hate coconut."
"Oh, boy," Ivy said. "I love Ambrosia. Anything with coconut."
Boris, who looked uncomfortable in his lei, teetered his burned-out cigar on the edge of his bread plate. An act that caused Ginger Rodgers to come painfully close to biting his leg. "Get that off a there. Where did your mama raise you?"
Boris snatched the stogie and dropped it into his suit pocket. "Didn't mean to upset you."
Charlotte finally reappeared from the kitchen carrying a large serving bowl of mashed potatoes. They were piled high like a mountain.
"Ohhh," Rose said. "My favorite. I could eat mashed potatoes every single day of my life."
Then Ruth carried out the turkey on the large turkeyshaped platter she purchased at Kresge. She had stuck little tiny paper umbrellas all over him, he wore a lei and little pink paper booties on his legs. Everyone cheered as she placed him on the table.
"Now that," Studebaker said, "is the happiest roasted turkey I ever did see."
"My, my," Asa said. "That's what I call an excellent bird." And for a second or two I tried to envision Asa carving the holiday bird with just his one arm.
"Let's join hands," Ruth said. She took a breath. "And Rose will you pray for us?"
Rose smiled. "Dear Lord, We thank and praise you for this day. I never imagined I would be part of such a festive Thanksgiving Day meal. Thank you for this, thank you for everyone around this table and for Ruth who so lovingly prepared it all and for those who came alongside to help. We ask you to bless each one here, and remember those who are far from us this day. We ask your blessing on this food and that our time and talk bring glory to you, for you, Lord, are worthy of our praise and thanksgiving."
Everyone said, "Amen."
Zeb continued to hold my hand or maybe I continued to hold his. It was hard to tell but I think we were both imagining a Thanksgiving celebration in our own home someday. Then the thought made me so angry I dropped his hand. Why did he have to be acting like such a big jealous jerk? I sailed my own silent prayer. Help me figure out my feelings, Lord.
Ruth took the big carving knife and the big fork and stood. She stared at the bird who looked more like the Big Kahuna than Tom Turkey. "Zeb," she said. "Would you come and do the honors?"
Zeb squeezed my hand. "I certainly will."
"Carve him good," Ivy said. "And I got dibs on the gizzard."
While Zeb carved, the food was passed around the table. I watched as folks bit into their first bites of the tropical surprise food. I think Ruth sneaked a little bit of the islands into each dish. Charlotte surreptitiously pulled a piece of mango out of her mouth that she had found in her three-bean salad. She looked at it and tucked it on the side of her plate.
Boris was confused by the little white nuts in the stuffing.
"What in the heck are these little white ball things in here, Ruth? Are we supposed to eat them?"
"Sure, they're macadamia nuts express from Hawaii. I got them at Madam Zola's shop in Shoops."
The sky outside grew dark as night fell over Bright's Pond but the spirit inside was bright and cheerful. Ruth turned on teeny lights she had strung from the ceiling that reminded us all of stars. She lit candles that cast dancing, wondrous shadows on the walls and table as Don Ho sang "Tiny Bubbles." Ruth Knickerbocker had pulled off her tropical Thanksgiving dinner.
But it was the final course that stole the show. After we had gathered dishes and brought most of the food bowls and what was left of the Big Kahuna into the kitchen, Ruth unveiled her pineapple, mango, passion fruit and raisin, pineapple upsidedown cake. The four-layer cake sat on a large silver platter with plastic lei flowers tucked all around it. I think the dessert must have weighed thirty pounds.
"Oh, Ruth," I said. "It looks—amazing."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet." She squeezed lemon juice into a small cup of what smelled like brandy. She sprinkled it onto the cake.
"Ruth," I said, "what are you planning?"
"Just watch. Help me get this to the table."
It took the two of us to carry it and hoist it onto the table.
Everyone cheered, even if they did appear somewhat dismayed—or scared.
Then Ruth pulled a book of matches from her apron pocket. "Are you ready? Here goes."
She struck the match and touched it to the cake and WHOOOOSH! Flames shot straight up as everyone recoiled and cheered at the same time. I made sure I knew where the phone was just in case I had to call the fire department. The cake burned for a few more seconds as the flame turned to a pretty, almost purple glow.
"Now they say you should cut into it while it is still flambéing," Ruth said. "So here goes."
The cake cut nicely and soon everyone had a small piece of Ruth's dessert flaming in front of them.
"This is so much fun," Charlotte said. "I never ever thought to flambé one of my pies. But you've inspired me, Ruth."
Ruth blushed. "Thank you, Charlotte."
"As a matter in fact," Charlotte said after a few bites of the odd cake. "This is
so tasty I am going to include it on the menu at my pie shop. It would be a special order but—"
"Really?" Rose said. "You didn't tell me. You're definitely opening the shop?"
"That's exactly so," Boris said. "She signed the lease yesterday."
Ruth sunk back into her seat as though the wind had been knocked out of her sails. I know Charlotte didn't mean to steal her thunder and she was actually paying Ruth a huge compliment but still, I understood what if felt like to be suddenly overshadowed by someone else's greatness.
The party broke up at seven o'clock. A little later than I had hoped but I couldn't very well tell people to stop having fun on account of Agnes. It seemed I had done too much of that. But I finally had to say something.
"Listen, everybody. I promised Agnes I would bring her a plate of food and some of Ruth's now famous flaming pineapple upside-down surprise. I know she would love it if you all came along."
Boris leaned back in the recliner and patted his bulging belly. He had already loosened his belt. "Oh, not me, Griselda. I'm bushed."
Studebaker joined Boris's sentiments as did Asa and Rose and Ginger, who I think really wanted to come, but she declined too. Not so much out of tiredness, but embarrassment, perhaps. It surprised me. I watched her shake her head toward Rose when the offer went out. Rose grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Don't worry," I heard Rose say.
Charlotte said she was anxious to get into the shop the next day and get started on some cleanup. "The place is a mess. But I've had some experience cleaning up messes." She smiled at Rose and Asa.
But Zeb surprised me. "I'll come."
Ruth touched my arm. "The man loves you. He's making an effort."
"That would be great, Zeb. I just need to pack a plate for her and—"
"I'll help," he said.
Ruth conspicuously left us alone in the kitchen. Zeb sliced turkey for Agnes as I packed bowls with potatoes and vegetables and ambrosia. I cut her an extra-large piece of Ruth's surprise cake.
"Now I need to be sure and bring whatever it was that made that cake catch fire. I think Agnes will like it," I said.
"You think that's a good idea?" Zeb asked.
"Sure, it'll just be a little flambé. A small flame and then she'll blow it out—like a birthday candle."
