Simple Gifts (11 page)

“Ah yes. Words are like swords. If only we thought before we spoke. Well, in the end you'll make the decision. He was your father.”

“And Ingrid's stepson.” Could I deprive an old woman of her memories? Her needs? I didn't see how I could. Joe shook his head. “That woman needs to stay out of this.”

“Have you ever known Ingrid to stay out of anything? She'll be
paralyzed
for the rest of her life if that replica of Herman isn't sitting on the shelter lawn this fall.”

Suddenly the bench we were sitting on tilted. My hand flew to my forehead as the world spun, and I realized all I'd eaten today was toast, a piece of fruit, and a protein shake. My blood sugar was going through the floor.

“Are you okay?”

I managed to tell Joe what was happening, and he took hold of my trembling fingers. “Come on. We need to get something solid in your stomach. You need to take care of yourself, Marlene. Vic's worried about you.”

I let him lead me over to the food table. “What's he afraid of? I'll get hoof-and-mouth disease?”

“Heavens, no. If
that
happened, he could shoot you and put you out of your misery. No, I'm afraid the situation you're facing with Ingrid is far more worrisome.”

Monday, I was up early, ready to do battle. I'd go to the meeting and make my position crystal clear. No statue. No way, definitely not. Herman had been my father, and I may have resented the fact, but that didn't mean I was going to let the town make him an object of ridicule. A statue. Something for pigeons to roost on and young hoodlums to deface. Nobody was going to make a mockery of Herman—not if I had anything to say about it. I reached for my toothbrush.

Dressed in jeans and T-shirt beneath a long-sleeved shirt to protect my bare arms from the crisp spring air, I headed for the animal shelter. I'd had to call Vic for directions. His last words shook me. “Be kind, Marlene. They're doing a commendable thing.”

Right. Kind but firm.

The shelter wasn't hard to find. Very nice, very costly, with glass and marble accoutrements. Herman must have donated a hefty sum for the building. I sat in the car for a full minute before getting out. My reflection in the freshly cleansed glass of the building was anything but reassuring. Funny, when I worked at the hospital, I looked fairly savvy. Once I hit Parnass Springs, I'd seriously regressed. Right now I looked like Aunt Beth on one of her tackiest days. Apparently I should have taken more time with my appearance.

A small man with snow-white hair and a handlebar mustache met me at the door. “Mrs. Queens? I'm Winston Little.”

We shook hands, and I was surprised at the firm grip. Two women sat at the glass table. The elderly woman who occupied the head of the table was dressed in a gray suit, a black fedora, a necklace of red beads, a pin shaped like a red rose fastened to her lapel, and rings on every finger.

I stared at her, fascinated. Had people in Parnass Springs taken to wearing hats? I'd not seen one in years, except on the heads of the female members of England's royal family. American women had fought their revolution, and we were, for the most part, hat free. She wore the feathery frivolity cocked at a rakish angle.

A second female lifted her eyes. “Lily Lippit, and this is Millicent Spencer. We're the remaining committee members.”

Lily was the exact opposite of Millicent. Her beige suit with a pale yellow blouse blended into the woodwork. She had salt-and-pepper hair that curled in a short mop. I had to look twice to see if she was breathing.

I shook hands all around and took a seat, determined to dispense with the meeting as promptly as manners allowed. Winston adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and looked over his notes. “Now, Mrs. Queens, we've given the matter extensive thought, and I believe we're prepared to make suggestions you'll favor regarding your father's statue.”

Your father.

The words had been voiced so seldom, I barely registered the fact they were talking to me.

Millicent tilted her head and looked down her aristocratic nose at me. “You understand that we represent the shelter, as well as the town of Parnass Springs, Mrs. Queens. We believe we have a solid understanding of what the town desires.”

Her white hair stuck out from around the hat, and her blue eyes zeroed in on me with all the intensity of twin beams of light. She reminded me of Mrs. Boswell, my fourth-grade teacher who had all the warmth and charm of an angleworm. Millicent and I were not destined to be bosom companions.

“That may be, but I believe that as Herman's…daughter, I do have something to say about the matter.”

“That's why we're here.” Winston folded his hands in front of him. “Millicent didn't mean anything out of line.”

The fish-eye glance she cast in his direction plainly said she would say whatever she pleased, take it or leave it.

Lily offered a smile and dropped her notebook. She reached down to get it and straightened, a little flushed with the effort. “Perhaps you'd like to tell us what you have in mind.”

“I have in mind closing this subject as of now,” I said grandly. “I am not in favor of erecting a statue to my father, now or ever.”

Winston gulped. “Oh, my. That won't do. That won't do at all.”

“I assume you're not serious.” Millicent iced over like a neglected freezer. “The town wishes to build this statue of your father, and we have the funds, so of course we will erect it. I can't imagine why you would object. It's a commendable and noteworthy effort to honor the man who funded our beautiful, state-of-the-art humane society.”

I was so hot I could feel my eyeballs sizzle. “You will do no such thing. Not without my permission—which I'm not giving.” I knew how the town had made fun of Herman—-walking like him, talking—and spitting when they talked, like him. They might have meant the jests to be in fun, but they weren't humorous to me or to my family. I may not have been an ideal daughter, but I could protect Herman from hurtful people.

Millicent didn't back down. “Don't speak to me in that tone of voice, young woman. I'll have you know I drew the plans for that statue myself, with my nephew's assistance.”

So she was an artist? Did that have anything to do with the flamboyant dress? “I'm sorry. The matter is not open for discussion.”

She leaned forward, her heavily penciled brows pinned to her hairline, but before she could blast me, Lily stepped in. “I suggest that we take couple of deep breaths. Mrs. Queens, can you tell us why you object to the statue?”

Could I? I wasn't sure I could put my objections into words. I wasn't even sure I knew exactly what they were. Since I'd come back to Parnass Springs, my attitude toward Herman had begun to change. Maybe it was living in Aunt Beth's house again, but the memories were coming thick and fast, and as I examined them, I was beginning to see that I'd viewed my life from a child's point of view. Herman
had
loved me. I knew that now. What's more, I was beginning to suspect that I'd loved him more than I'd realized.

Once he had taken me to the bridge to see the carnival lights. I hadn't known his purpose for dragging me off so late, but once there, I realized that he wanted to do something to please me. We'd sat and stared at the lights, talking little, but eventually his hand had crept over to take his daughter's. For once I allowed it—and it wasn't so bad.

The committee sat staring at me, like three little birds in a nest, waiting to be fed. I collected my thoughts.

“This is a difficult subject for me,” I began. “We know what Herman was. There's no way to soften the truth: he was simple. I know you mean well, but I can't bear to see him made an object of ridicule again.”

His childlike trust, his eagerness to help others, whether they needed it or not, would be tainted. He was gone. The tumultuous years were over. I didn't want to resurrect the dead. It wouldn't be fair to Herman, to Ingrid, or to me.

Lily leaned toward me. “We never planned to make fun of him. The statue is intended to show our deep appreciation. Herman's generosity touched hearts. He built the animal shelter and donated a large grant to the public library. We want to
celebrate
your father, Mrs. Queens, not mock him.”

“Then you must respect my wishes.” I knew what the older people in this town thought of my father. I remembered all too well. Clearly this committee didn't represent the town, but themselves.

Millicent twitched her hat to a more solid angle and brushed me aside. “I propose we move on with the meeting. Petunias around the base of the statue, in varying colors?”

No one brushes me aside. “I believe I've made my feelings clear. No statue.”

Millicent bent forward. “Stubborn, aren't we?”

“Persistent—“I smiled—“aren't we?”

Lily wrung her hands.

My cell phone rang. I let it.

I pulled myself together and left the meeting. I should have been feeling pretty good. Triumphant. Righteous. But what was I feeling?

Deeply ashamed of myself. And I couldn't even begin to explain why.

Once safely away from the shelter, I called Sara back.

“Mom? What happened? I tried to call earlier, but your phone went to voice mail.”

“Sorry. You caught me at a bad moment.” I was smack in the middle of acting like a spoiled brat. I didn't feel like explaining the past thirty minutes; she wouldn't understand. “What's wrong
this
time?”

“Mom.” She drew the objection out.

I was out of sorts, but there wasn't any need to take it out on my daughter. “Sorry, honey, but things are in chaos here. I've just had a meeting with the animal shelter committee. They want to put up a statue of Herman.”

“A statue?” Her laughter trilled, as sharp and clear as a spring-fed brook. “That's hilarious.”

“Yes, well. What did you need?”

“I've been thinking. As soon as you get home, we can redo the nursery. I found the cutest butterfly material. You can make a spread and curtains. Wouldn't that be darling?”

“Darling. If I knew how to sew. Don't buy the material yet, okay?”

“I already have. It's so cute, I was afraid to wait. I knew they would sell out if I didn't buy it now.”

Okay, so I'd take sewing lessons. My social life was non-existent anyway. “Look, honey, I have to check on Ingrid. I'll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. Get some rest while you're there. Remember, I need you.”

I arrived at Ingrid's around noon, expecting her to be upset that I was late. She did exactly what she wanted when she wanted to do it, but she expected everyone else to stick to a rigid schedule. I should have been at her house an hour ago.

She was waiting when I walked in the door. “I was beginning to think you'd had an accident.”

“No accident. I had a meeting with Winston Little.”

A curious light entered her eyes. “The committee. About time you met with them. Now. We have business to tend to. You need to phone the hussy and make it clear she isn't getting Eugene's foot.”

I took a deep breath. “We have to do that today?”

“No need to put off until tomorrow what can be done today.”

Easy for her to say. I walked to the kitchen cabinet and started opening doors. I didn't want to call the hussy. I'd had a morning of hussies.

“Where do you keep the antacids?” Attending the meeting on an empty stomach hadn't been a good idea.

I located the antacids and dropped a pink disk into my mouth before turning to the next ugly task awaiting me. Prue Levitt Moss. What did I know about the woman other than she'd moved in like a Sherman tank and mowed down poor Eugene's resistance until he'd succumbed to her charms—or at least that was Ingrid's version. Never mind that Eugene's charms had been easily seized by any or all females. Even staid and true Ingrid had been the recipient of Eugene's insatiable follies, but his final indiscretion broke her heart. I picked up the slip of paper with Prue's number scrawled in scarlet letters—Ingrid's less than coy method of tagging the enemy.

“I'm calling Hawaii, you know!” If that didn't shake sense into Ingrid, nothing would. In her opinion, long distance was used sparingly and for emergencies only. Hawaii was a distant planet with a hefty rate.

Ingrid's voice came from somewhere in the house. “Call anyway! And put the receiver on speakerphone!”

“Not a chance!” If I had to do this, I didn't want Ingrid interrupting.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number. Maui time? I had no idea what the time was there. Early morning, I thought. I'd probably get Prue out of bed and make her even less cooperative. A voice came over the line, “Hello?”

“Yes. Prue Levitt, please.”

“Moss,” a crisp voice corrected.

“Mrs. Moss,” I cleared my throat. “I'm calling on behalf of Ingrid Moss. Do you have a moment to chat?”