Katy's Debate (Katy Lambright Series, The)
Page 8
“You think Gramma Ruthie would want that on her dinner table?” Dad sounded doubtful.
Katy’s shoulders sagged. She hadn’t been thinking of Gramma Ruthie’s dinner table when she spotted the fabric. She wanted a dress made of this fabric. But she wasn’t buying for herself, she was buying for others. And Dad obviously missed the hint that she’d like him to buy it for her.
Mrs. Graber stepped forward. “I think Kathleen is right. It’s lovely.” She slipped the bolt from its slot on the shelf. “Where is the cutting table? I believe I’m going to take a length of this for a dress.”
Katy nearly swallowed her tongue. Mrs. Graber intended to make a dress out of Katy’s fabric? Silently, Katy pointed toward the cutting table. She watched the store worker measure the fabric, cut off a length, and fold it into a square. The worker placed the fabric into Mrs. Graber’s waiting hands.
Mrs. Graber flashed a bright smile. “I’m ready to pay now.”
Katy trailed behind her dad and Mrs. Graber on the way to the checkout counters. She couldn’t take her eyes off the neatly folded square of bold purple fabric. She had to be nice to Mrs. Graber—she had to—but her biggest test would come the day that woman showed up wearing a dress made of Katy’s chosen fabric.
Chapter Eleven
When Katy, Dad, and Mrs. Graber finished shopping, they headed to the food court for lunch. Katy loved eating at the Chinese place in the food court. Dad didn’t care for it, but it didn’t matter because he could go a few booths over and order a double cheeseburger, fries, and a root beer. Then they were both happy.
Katy ordered cashew chicken with vegetable fried rice and an eggroll. Dad followed Mrs. Graber to a pizzeria, and they both ordered double slices of cheese pizza. Watching Dad bite into a slice of pizza instead of his usual cheeseburger took a bit of the enjoyment away from Katy’s dinner, but no one would have guessed. She smiled and chatted, entertaining both adults the way a proper hostess would. Each time Dad gave Katy a little smiling nod of approval, she shut down her conscience and congratulated herself on an act well performed. Dad 1-Katy 3.
She dozed on the way home, awaking with a jolt when Dad turned off the car’s ignition. They all climbed out of the car, and Mrs. Graber gave Katy a hug. Taken by surprise, Katy automatically hugged her back.
“You have a good Christmas, Kathleen,” Mrs. Graber said.
“Thanks, I will.”
Mrs. Graber turned to Dad and held out her hand. He took it. “You too, Samuel.” They stood for quite a while, looking at one another without saying anything. Katy squirmed, her gaze bouncing around the yard to keep from watching Dad. Didn’t he know he was making a fool out of himself?
Finally, Dad let go of the woman’s hand with a sigh that created a wispy cloud. “Well, you better go in before you catch cold.” Still looking at Mrs. Graber, he added, “Katy, grab our bags out of the backseat, and let’s go.”
In the truck, Dad sighed again. Katy nearly growled in irritation. Was he actually moping? He was taking this too far. Before Katy could ask if he intended to just sit here in the truck in front of Grampa and Gramma’s house, he glanced at his wristwatch. “Hmm, it’s only two o’clock. Should we go by Rebecca’s so you can find some material to make those placemats for Gramma?”
Her heart lifted. His willingness to take her surely meant he’d set aside his thoughts of Mrs. Graber. “Sure!”
Cars filled the area right in front of Aunt Rebecca’s shop, so Dad had to park down the block. The shop bustled with almost as much activity as the mall in Salina, but Katy took Dad’s hand and tugged him to the section of the store that housed bolts of fabrics. After a few minutes of browsing, she pointed out a pale green cotton fabric with gold fern leaves. “What do you think of this?”
“That looks a lot more like something your grandma would like than that purple.”
Katy almost bristled. Is that how you’ll feel about it when yon see it being worn by your girlfriend? It still rankled her that Mrs. Graber had purchased the purple fabric. It would serve her right if Dad told her the dress was ugly. She smiled, imagining it.
“So is that what you’re going to get?”
Dad’s question brought Katy back to the present. She snatched the bolt from the rack. “Yes, I’ll need thread and batting too.”
“Well, hurry up, huh?” Dad looked around the shop and shook his head. “This place is so crowded, it’s making me nervous. I think I’ll wait in the truck.”
Katy laughed. “Okay.” Dad charged out of the shop, and Katy quickly selected a spool of thread and a package of quilt batting. She got in line behind two women and chatted with them while she waited for her turn to have her fabric cut. One of Katy’s twin cousins, Lola, worked the cutting table. When Katy handed her the bolt of fabric, she crinkled her nose.
“This looks like something an old lady would like.”
Katy said, “It’s to make placemats for Gramma Ruthie.”
“Oh, well then I guess it’s okay. How much do you need?”
Katy told her and watched Lola measure the fabric. Lola picked up the scissors and snipped through the fern leaves. “Are you going to the popcorn-stringing party at the Brauns’ tonight?”
Dad had told Caleb Katy couldn’t go with him since they planned to do their Christmas shopping. But since they’d returned early, that excuse was gone. Katy didn’t know what she would do. Rather than answering Lola’s question, she asked one of her own. “Are you and Lori going?”
Lola shrugged. “I don’t know. Depends on when we finish up here and how tired we are. We’re not used to working in the shop, you know—that’s usually your job.”
Katy decided not to respond to Lola’s dig. Aunt Rebecca had given Katy the Saturday off to do her Christmas shopping, so Lola had no reason to complain.
Lola continued. “Lori really wants to go, though. Mom usually doesn’t let us go to the community parties yet—she says we’re still too young.” Lola made a face. “But she said this one was okay since some of the popcorn strings will go on the cedar tree outside the church for the Christmas Eve service.”
Katy almost hoped the twins wouldn’t go to the party. If they went, they’d be sure to tell Caleb she’d been in the shop. They couldn’t keep anything secret.
Lola leaned closer and made a face. “It’s been really busy today—even people from Salina. Mom’s pre-made baby quilts and wall hangings are almost all gone. I guess everybody’s doing last-minute stuff before Christmas.”
“I guess so,” Katy agreed.
Lola’s expression turned scheming. “Speaking of Christmas, did you get anything for Mrs. Graber?”
Katy frowned. “Why would I?”
“Well, she’s gonna be your stepmother. You want to get on her good side, right? So did you get her something good?”
Katy began folding the fabric Lola had cut. “No, I didn’t get her anything. I don’t know her that well. And you don’t know that she’s going to be my stepmother.”
Lola snickered. “Oh, Katy, everyone in town knows your dad’s gonna ask her to marry him. The deacons approved it, so it’s gonna happen.”
Without answering, Katy grabbed her thread, batting, and fabric and headed to the cash register. Everybody’s going to be wrong this time, she vowed. My dad’s not marrying Mrs. Graber…or anybody else.
After signing a credit slip for Aunt Rebecca, Katy hurried to the truck. Lola’s comment about the deacons approving Dad to court Mrs. Graber replayed in her head, and she stomped her feet hard against the walkway. Dad had said he was going to ask permission, but he hadn’t told her he’d received it. Why hadn’t he said anything about it? She should have known before Lola found out. Dad probably told Gramma Ruthie, who told Aunt Rebecca, who told someone else, and Lola or Lori overheard. Those girls were always listening in when they shouldn’t be. Katy loved her cousins, but sometimes they aggravated her. Like now.
She slid into the truck’s cab, slammed the door, and said, “All right. I’m
done.”
Dad started the engine without a word. Katy’s tongue twitched to ask Dad if he’d been given permission by the deacons to court Mrs. Graber. She also wanted to know if he’d bought the widow a Christmas gift. But she didn’t ask. She was afraid of the answers. Dad wasn’t exactly demonstrative—most of the time his gifts were practical. If he bought Mrs. Graber something better than a new iron or a pair of gloves, it would make Katy mad. So she steamed quietly while they drove out to the dairy.
When Dad pulled onto the yard, he said, “Our day ended earlier than I thought it would.”
“Yeah, I know.” Katy sighed. “Bummer.” The school word slipped out unexpectedly.
Dad’s forehead crinkled. “Bummer?”
“I mean, I’m sorry we didn’t have more time.” Katy began gathering up the bags that cluttered the truck floor. “I thought we’d spend most of the day at the mall. But we didn’t.” She tried to keep the resentment out of her voice, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded.
Dad nodded slowly. “No, we didn’t. So that means you could go to that popcorn-stringing party if you wanted to.”
Katy paused with her hands full of bags. “But Caleb’s not coming over. If I’m not here, you’ll have to do the milking all by yourself.”
“Every now and then it’s all right. The cows can wait their turns. If you want to go to the party, I’ll take you over to the Brauns’.”
Katy nibbled her lower lip and considered going. All of her friends would be there, including Annika. But Caleb would be there, and he’d probably do something to annoy her. He usually did. I wish Bryce could come…She pushed that thought away. Piling the bags in her lap, she made a decision.
“How about if I stay and help with the milking, then we string popcorn for our tree?”
Dad’s lips quirked into a funny little grin. “You’d rather stay here than be with your friends?”
“With all the homework and school stuff”—and you spending time with Mrs. Graber— “we haven’t had much time together. I think I’d rather just stay home with you. I’ll go to the community New Year’s Eve party with my friends.”
Dad’s grin grew. “Well, all right then. That sounds fine, Katy-girl.”
“And,” Katy went on, ideas building, “I’ll fix us a special supper—all of your favorites. We’ll make it a real party.”
“Are you sure you want to go to all that trouble?”
“It’s not so much trouble. Honest. Especially since I didn’t work at Aunt Rebecca’s shop today. I’m not tired, and I’ve got lots of time.”
“Well then…” Dad rubbed his chin. “What if we made it a bigger party?”
Katy tipped her head to the side. “How?”
“We haven’t had Grampa and Gramma over for a while. I could drive back into town and invite them. Should we ask them to join us?”
For several seconds Katy sat without saying anything. She didn’t mind having Grampa and Gramma out—they were family. But if they came, Mrs. Graber would come too. It would be rude to leave her behind. And if Mrs. Graber came, Dad would only pay attention to her.
She swallowed hard. “If that’s what you want…okay.” She opened the truck door.
“Katy?”
She turned back, hoping Dad would say, “I changed my mind. Let’s just have that party by ourselves.” But he said, “Should I see if Gramma Ruthie will bring dessert?”
“Sure, Dad.” Dad 2-…She bumped the door closed with her hip, hugged the packages to her aching chest, and ran for the house.
Chapter Twelve
After dinner, Grampa Ben advised Katy to stack the dishes in the sink and wash them later. “That way we can get to popcorn stringing now.”
Katy looked at Dad. He didn’t like unwashed dishes in the sink, so she always cleaned up immediately after meals. But he was wearing the silly grin he always put on when Mrs. Graber was around and nodded in agreement. “That sounds fine. Katy-girl, get out the big kettle, and I’ll fetch the popcorn from the cellar.” He disappeared through the doorway leading to the storage space below the kitchen.
Katy pulled their largest soup kettle from its spot under the worktable and then removed the jug of oil from the shelf. While she heated the oil in the bottom of the kettle, Mrs. Graber and Gramma Ruthie cleared the table and stacked the dishes in the sink. Dad trotted into the kitchen with the bag of popcorn kernels in his hand and a huge smile on his face.
“Here you go.” He plopped the bag onto the corner of the stove.
“How many batches, Dad?” Katy measured out the kernels and poured them into the hot oil. They bounced like BBs in the iron kettle, making it sound like they were already starting to pop.
“Hmm, good question.” He looked at Grampa. “How many do you think, Dad?”
“Start with four,” Grampa suggested, “and we can pop more if we need it. ’Course…” He chuckled. “We’ll be eatin’ some too, so maybe you better start with five.”
Katy wrinkled her nose. “Grampa, we need dry popcorn for stringing. Dry popcorn tastes terrible and sticks to your teeth!”
Grampa crossed the floor to tap Katy’s nose with his finger. “Then make the first batch for eatin’ an’ the rest for stringin’. Even though I had two servings of your grandma’s peach cobbler, I’ve got plenty of room for popcorn.” He patted his belly.
Katy laughed. “Okay, Grampa Ben.”
Mrs. Graber turned from the sink and wiped her hands on the apron she’d tied around her waist. Katy prided herself that she hadn’t even blinked when the woman took it from the hook behind the door as if she owned the kitchen. “Kathleen, would you like my help?”
“Oh, no.” Katy smiled sweetly and continued shaking the pot to heat the kernels. “I’ve been doing this for years, so I’m just fine, but thank you.”
“Well, then,” Gramma Ruthie said, “since Katy has the popcorn popping under control, let’s go sit in the living room and talk.”
“Or…” Dad stepped forward, rubbing his chin with his finger. “You haven’t ever seen the house, have you, Rosemary?”
Katy gulped.
“Not the whole house.” Mrs. Graber sounded hopeful.
“Then let’s take a quick, well, tour.” Dad laughed like he’d made a joke. Katy resisted rolling her eyes. “You’ve seen the kitchen and living room, but you haven’t been upstairs.”
Don’t you take her in my room! Katy speeded up the stirring, flicking kernels against the sides of the kettle. How could she keep them downstairs? “This popcorn’s about ready to pop, Dad. Are you sure there’s time?”
Dad laughed again. “The house isn’t that big, Katy. We’ll be back in time to sample the popcorn.” He held out his arm toward the living room. “This way, Rosemary.”
Gramma and Grampa followed Dad and Mrs. Graber, leaving Katy alone. Dad 3-Katy 3. She was losing ground fast. She tipped her head, straining to hear what was going on upstairs, but the popcorn began to pop. She slapped the lid on the kettle. The explosion of popcorn kernels filled the room and made it impossible to hear anything else, but she imagined the four adults going through the three upstairs rooms.
Katy didn’t mind them being in Dad’s bedroom, but the other two rooms she’d claimed as hers. She used the smallest bedroom as a sewing room. The only private item in there was her sewing machine, which had been her mother’s. She didn’t want Mrs. Graber touching it. She also didn’t like the idea of them all wandering through her bedroom, examining her things. Would Mrs. Graber laugh at the stuffed bear on her bed or the collection of dolls that sat in a neat row on the shelf above her desk?
The kettle fell silent, just a few late pops echoing under the lid, so Katy lifted the kettle from the stove. As she poured the white, fluffy popped corn into a big bowl, the sounds of footsteps on the stairs and voices carried into the kitchen. Grampa and Dad came in first followed by Gramma and Mrs. Graber. Dad and Grampa moved to the table to sneak a few pieces of popcorn, but the two women dashed to the back door.
Katy looked at Dad. “Is Mrs. Graber leaving?” She hoped she sounded dismayed rather than eager.
Dad shrugged, munching a piece of popcorn. “Oh, she just needs to run to the car for a minute. She’ll be back.” He rubbed his hands together. “This popcorn needs butter and salt. I’ll get it.”
The evening crawled by. Katy usually loved the smell of popcorn, loved time with Gramma Ruthie and Grampa Ben, loved talking and laughing around the table while they worked on a project together. But tonight—even though she smiled and talked and laughed as if she was having fun—she couldn’t relax. While she laughed, her stomach jumped in apprehension. While her hands pushed a needle through snowy puffs of popped corn, her thoughts bounced here and there. Why did Mrs. Graber have to run to her car after being upstairs? Why did she and. Dad keep giving each other secretive looks across the table? When would this evening end so Katy could go upstairs, shut herself away, and record her frustrations in her journal?
By ten o’clock, a misshapen pile of popcorn strings filled the center of the dining room table. Dad sat back, admired the heap, and laughed. “Katy-girl, we better get our tree up quickly so we can move these strings off the table. Otherwise, we won’t have any place to sit and eat!”
“When are you getting your tree?” Mrs. Graber asked.
“Probably tomorrow afternoon, after lunch.” Dad flicked a glance at Katy. “Is that okay with you, Katy-girl?”
One of their Christmas traditions was walking out into the pasture, cutting down a wild cedar tree, and hauling it home to cover with handmade decorations and long strings of popcorn. She always looked forward to “Christmas tree day,” but now she held her breath. Would Dad invite Mrs. Graber to be a part of the Katy-and-Dad tradition? She wasn’t sure she could act happy if that woman intruded on such a special time.