Bury the Hatchet in Dead Mule Swamp (28 page)

Audra pointed at the stage,
to the bedroom furniture, and said, “Right there, Chad. It’s
obvious.”

“I’ll be down in a second,”
I called to them.

Chad whirled around,
hunting for my voice, and finally looked up. “Hi, Ma! We need to
run through the skit a couple of times to see how it
works.”

There was no direct way to
get from the balcony to the main floor, and on the return trip via
the hallways, I ran into Todd Ringman.

“Just checkin’ the
mechanicals,” he assured me, saluting with two fingers as he pushed
open the Ladies Room door.

“Great,” I said, but he had
already disappeared behind the windowless panel of dark
wood.

Mick must have gotten the
cords plugged in because as soon as I reached the ballroom,
amplified chords began to sound from a guitar.
Bluegrass means acoustic, doesn’t it? I guess not
anymore
. Songs were still blaring from the
CD player, but the musicians began jamming over the top of that
noise.

I was showing the kids the
backstage areas where they could change and make entrances and
exits, when the lights went out. The dim recesses of the stage
became murky with no windows located there, and the loud music
ceased abruptly mid-song. The quiet was so welcome, I realized my
ears were ringing.

“Sorry,” Mick called from
the balcony. “I think our amps did that.”

“I’ll take care of it,”
hollered Todd. He motioned to one of the musicians, opened the door
that led directly to the basement and said, “Th’electric panel’s
down here. I’ll show ya’.” Raising his voice again, he yelled at
Mick, “Ya’ might need t’ get an extension cord and plug those
lights in a differ’nt circuit.”

“Where can I buy one?” Mick
yelled back. “I’ve used all ours.”

“Jouppi’s Hardware,” Todd
and I said simultaneously. “South end of Main Street,” I added
loudly.

I heard Cody scream
“Geronimo!” from the hallway.

It was just past one, and
there were still hours to go until the Ball began, when the noise
level was sure to be exponentially louder. I shook my head in hopes
of stopping the ringing in my ears and the ringing switched to my
pocket. It was my phone.

Chapter 43

“Ana, I’m glad I caught
you,” Jerry’s voice squawked from the speaker.

“It’s a cell phone, Jerry.
It’s usually where I am.” I was suddenly peeved that he wasn’t here
helping to direct all this chaos.

“And where would that be?”
he asked as if it were an ordinary day, and not the day of the
event he’d predicted to be the biggest in a decade.

“I’m at the school. Where
are you? It’s crazy here. We could use some help,” I said
pointedly.

“On my way,” he soothed, as
if nothing could ruffle his feathers. “Go home. Take a hot bath and
relax. I want you to be cheerful this evening. I’ll pick you up at
six-fifteen.”

“It won’t take me that long
to get ready,” I protested. “There’s a lot going on here. Two
people who can make decisions would be useful.”

“At your service,” he
announced in stereo, and I looked up to see him striding in the
door.

For the next two hours both
of us solved problems, helped move equipment and props, and rescued
tables from Cody’s continuing exuberance. We were so busy I forgot
to eat the lunch I’d brought with me. Finally, the band was running
through a mellow tune with no competing music while Mick gave a
thumbs-up from the balcony, the kids had gone back to my house to
eat taco salad, and Janice stuck her head in the door to tell us
that she’d be back to plug in the coffee urns at six. I sat down on
the edge of the stage and pulled Jerry down beside me.

“We may be ready,” I
sighed. “I think I will go home and clean up now.”

Jerry patted my knee. “I
want you to know that even if Cora turns me down on the... well,
you know...” he glanced around, “that this has all been worth it
simply for the boost it has given Cherry Hill’s morale.”

“I hope you’re right,” I
said in a tired voice.

“People have really noticed
your community spirit. They won’t forget,” he said.

“What does that
mean?”

“It takes a long time for
someone with no local roots to be accepted in a small town. But you
are becoming one of us. I like it.”

“I like it, too,” I said,
offering a tired smile, but I really was pleased at his kind words.
“Can you handle things from here on out?”

“I’m staying till
five-thirty. Adele said she’d close early and come over to watch
things till we return.”

“Why don’t I just meet you
here?” I asked.

“Not on your life. I’m
picking you up properly. Six-fifteen, on the dot.” He rose and
practically lifted me by the elbows. “Cheerful,
remember?”

“OK, Cyrano, or maybe I’m
Cyrano de Bergerac and you’re Christian de Neuvillette. Anyway,
tonight all will be revealed to the lovely Cora-Roxanne and we’ll
determine if she loves you. I’ll be elegant, cheerful, oh yes, and
a glittering, jealousy-inducing bauble. But I need a shower and a
snack to pull it off.”

Chapter 44

Jerry was a terrific
dancer. We glided around the ballroom floor to the strains of “The
Autumn Waltz.” Its haunting melody was beautifully played by the
band, and the words were strangely appropriate for the underlying
plot of the evening. I wondered if Jerry had requested it as the
opening song. At first, we were the only dancers on the floor.
Jerry had proudly announced the opening of the Harvest Ball and
taken my hand to lead me to the center of the room. It was
impossible to guess how many people had already arrived. Every hay
bale or bench placed around the edge of the room had several people
seated on it, and spaces between were filled two or three deep with
those who were standing. I had no idea how many others were in the
hallway, or had already lined up to pile plates with
food.

Someone was taking
pictures, and a flash exploded in my eyes, twice. After two passes
around the room, Jerry motioned for others to join us, and couples
did so, slowly. Some appeared shy or awkward with forgotten skills,
but soon the floor was filled with dancers wearing every sort of
outfit from tuxedos and prom dresses to bib overalls.

It was a bit of a shock to
realize how few of those in attendance I knew, but I was searching
hard for one particular person. She was there, standing along the
west wall, and Tom was seated next to her on a bale of hay. I might
have had to look twice if I hadn’t seen Tom. Cora was definitely
not wearing her customary faded denim. She had on a forest-green
jumper with a pleated bodice that somehow reminded me of Audrey
Hepburn. Beneath the jumper was a creamy silk blouse with full
sleeves. Instead of braids wound around her head, her hair had been
carefully pulled into a French twist, and the edge was lined with
something decorative that sparkled elegantly in the light. I
thought she might even be wearing a touch of makeup. She was
definitely tracking our sweep around the room, but I successfully
avoided eye contact.

After the first dance, I
told Jerry I wanted to get something to eat and drifted toward the
front hall. Adele was in the foyer, hawking raffle
tickets.

“A dollar each, ten for six
dollars, or an arm’s length for ten dollars,” she announced, over
and over, as people entered the front doors.

The temperature had
plummeted all day and people were bundled up in outerwear that
didn’t necessarily match their party clothes. Most stood on the
tile cherry bomb shivering, removing gloves and unwinding scarves.
Some even turned to look at the Judge Oldfield historical items in
the display case. Geraldine Longcore was there with Adele,
directing people to the coatroom and game room for the youngsters,
and helping to collect raffle money. Children impatiently waited to
have jackets unzipped and to be released for play. Adele had wisely
worn a sweater, but Geraldine looked cold. I guessed it to be in
the mid-twenties outside, the first really hard freeze of the
season, and every time the door opened, frigid air rushed in. I’d
worn my wool cape and had still been chilly.

The women were doing a fine
job of directing traffic, and I told them so, then headed for the
buffet line, which was long. As it moved almost imperceptibly
forward, I pondered Jerry’s actions when he had picked me up. He’d
arrived right on time and wore a long black coat over his
grandfather’s suit. He was carrying a top hat that might have been
beaver. It was sartorial perfection on a handsome man. I invited
him in, and he looked me over from head to toe, but not in a way
that made me uncomfortable.

“You look fabulous,” he
said. “I hope these flowers will work.”

He opened the corsage box
he’d also brought in and removed a beautiful arrangement of four
small green orchids surrounded by sprigs of white buds. The flowers
were backed with loops of ribbon in a soft green.

“Oh, Jerry,” I said,
“that’s really lovely.”

“I told them about your
jade and asked them to tone down what they call ‘lime-green’
blossoms.”

“I think it will be
perfect.”

He had then taken the
corsage from its bed of cellophane and leaned in to fasten it on my
dress. His fingers were cool against my skin as he slipped them
expertly behind the fabric to protect me from the long pin he
wielded with his right hand.

Already close to me, he
pulled me closer and kissed me full on the lips, holding me just a
moment longer than I expected.

“I sincerely want to thank
you for everything you’ve done for me in the past six weeks,” he
said when we’d separated.

“I’m... You know... I still
don’t think your plan is going to work,” I finally managed to get
out, feeling a bit breathless.

“Understood. But it won’t
be for lack of trying.” He smiled broadly and fingered his
mustache.

My feelings were definitely
mixed. I had come to appreciate Jerry Caulfield as a man who cared
deeply about this town, and who was willing to perform amazing
feats to try to win back the woman he genuinely loved. And although
I didn’t want a romantic relationship with anyone, I wasn’t immune
to his attentions and gentle touch. And yet, it irked me that men
thought they were so dashing and irresistible that bestowing a kiss
was the best way to thank a woman. Yes, I was both touched and
annoyed. I was just thinking this was probably a good thing, since
neither of us could afford letting our friendship become something
more, when a voice at my elbow interrupted my reverie.

“Ana,” Jimmie Mosher said
eagerly with eyes opening wide, “you look seriously
awesome!”

He was carrying a tray
loaded with cups of coleslaw. I opened my mouth to greet him but he
launched into a monologue.

“Do you know where coleslaw
came from? It’s a Dutch nickname for
koolsalade
that they shortened
to
koolsla
, and
Americans just said coleslaw. Cabbage is older than snot—oh, sorry
about that—older than, well, lots of vegetables, but not the kind
we know with heads. That’s only been around for about four hundred
years.”

I shook my head and
blinked. “Jimmie, slow down,” I said, trying to grasp the relevance
of the history of cabbage salad.

“Gotta go,” he said
abruptly and scooted off in the direction of the front of the line,
knees slightly bent to cushion the tray.

Chapter 45

My inward thoughts were
pushed aside as people I knew approached and greeted me. Hunter,
the oldest of the Sorenson kids—I thought I remembered he was eight
or maybe nine—had his two little sisters in tow. The youngest, I
recalled her name was Ruthie, was being held tightly by the hand by
the older girl.

“Hello, Mrs. Raven,” Hunter
said seriously. “I’m watching the girls tonight while Mom drives
the team.”

“You’re doing a fine job,”
I assured him. “Why don’t you get in front of me? Ruthie might get
impatient waiting a long time for something to eat.”

The children willingly
accepted that offer. Hunter must have had to grow up a lot in the
past year. I recalled that his uncle Karl was planning to move to
Cherry Hill to help with the implement business, but didn’t have a
chance to ask the boy about it because I was distracted yet
again.

John Aho and his wife,
Marie, passed me with loaded plates. They were laughing, and John
was cleaner than I’d ever seen him, even at church. They both wore
new jeans and plaid flannel shirts.

“Ana!” John said. “What a
great evening, and it’s hardly begun. Hurry and eat. They’re going
to call a square dance soon.”

“I’ll be right there,” I
assured him. Their apparel seemed better suited for that dance than
my black gown.

Finally, I reached the food
table, and was amazed at the feast Janice had created. There were
trays the size of snow saucers loaded with sandwich buns in three
varieties, white, wheat and rye. Large slow cookers filled with
spicy pulled meat simmered just beyond the bread, followed by
plates heaped with sandwich meats and cheese. Cups of coleslaw and
applesauce were arranged next. The applesauce appeared to be
homemade, not from cans. There were also trays filled with raw
vegetables and fruits, and huge bowls of chips and pretzels. At the
very ends of the two lines of tables were the tarts I knew Janice
and her crew had been making.