Debutante Hill (12 page)

“I will. Or you come here,” Nancy said warmly. “Well, I'll see you.”

“I'll see you,” Lynn echoed. She drew a deep breath and replaced the receiver on the hook.

The smell of her mother's apple upside down cake floated up the stairs, and Lynn realized again that she was hungry—

More than just hungry, she was starving. She hurried into the bathroom and washed her hands and face, then went down the stairs.

Dodie and her mother were already eating lunch in the kitchen. Mrs. Chambers looked up and smiled.

“Sit down and have a sandwich. We're eating the lazy way. There doesn't seem to be much sense to carrying everything into the dining room when Rosalie isn't here to clear it away.”

“No sense at all,” Lynn agreed, going to the bread box and glancing around for something for a sandwich. She saw a jar of ham salad open on the counter, where Dodie had evidently placed it after making her own lunch. “Here, this looks good.”

As she came around to seat herself at the kitchen table, Lynn stooped to drop a pensive kiss on her mother's forehead. “Sorry I was such a bear when we were talking before. I know you were just trying to give me some good advice.”

Her mother nodded. “Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe these things are the kind you have to work out for yourself. We won't talk about it any more, all right?”

“All right,” Lynn said gratefully.

Dodie had been listening to this exchange with interest “What aren't you going to talk about any more?”

“None of your business,” Lynn said, seating herself at the table and reaching across her sister for a napkin.

“Now, girls—” Mrs. Chambers' voice paused at the sound of the telephone.

Dodie was on her feet in an instant. “I'll get it.”

She disappeared into the living room and Mrs. Chambers glanced at Lynn in a puzzled way. “Dodie's been jumping so at the telephone lately, I'm inclined to believe she's really interested in some boy. She hasn't mentioned anybody, though.”

“If I didn't know Dodie,” Lynn said, “I'd think it might be the Turner boy. But I can't imagine Dodie falling for somebody who wasn't part of her gang. Can you?”

“I don't know—” Mrs. Chambers said.

Dodie came back into the room.

“That was Janie. She has some more news about the debutantes!”

Lynn could not resist asking, “What is it?”

“Well,” Dodie said, “there's evidently been some criticism from some people in town about so much money being spent on anything as ‘useless' as debuts, when there are
more valuable things that could be done with it. And Mrs. Peterson can't stand being criticized, so now she's worked out a civic project for the debutantes.”

“A civic project!” Mrs. Chambers smiled in spite of herself. “That woman—it takes a lot to beat her! Well, what is her idea now?”

“A fashion show,” reported Dodie. “It will be the last evening of the Christmas holidays, and everyone in town will be invited, and the debutantes themselves will model clothes from all the best shops. And then, as a grand finale, they are all going to come out modeling the gowns they are going to wear at their debut in the spring.”

“That should bring quite a turnout,” Mrs. Chambers admitted. “But what does it have to do with a civic project?”

“All the money they take in,” Dodie said, “will be donated to the Rivertown Memorial Hospital.”

“Pot roast and noodles and green peas and apple pie. Does that sound like the right welcome home meal?” Mrs. Chambers sat with her pen poised over her marketing list, her eyes shining. “Can you think of anything else, Lynn?”

“Peppermint ice cream,” Lynn suggested. “You know how Ernie loves peppermint ice cream.” She smiled at her mother. “You're not
very
excited, are you, Mother? Why, you'd think Ern had been gone three years instead of three months!”

“Well, it seems like three years to me,” Mrs. Chambers said. “After all, it's the first time any of you children have been away from home—really away, I mean—and a boy's first college vacation is a very important thing. I want every-thing to be exactly right, so he'll know how glad we are he's home.”

“Oh, he'll know,” Lynn said fondly, watching her mother's eager face. “Just one look at you, and he'll know; don't worry about that. And when he sees the pot roast and noodles—ugh, what a combination—and the pie—”

“And the peppermint ice cream,” added Mrs. Chambers, quickly jotting the item down on the list. She laughed. “I know I'm silly, but I'll be so glad to see him!”

“You're not being silly,” Lynn said gently. “We'll all be glad to see Ernie. And Paul.”

In her own mind, the fact that Paul was coming, that he was driving home in the same car as Ernie and would be here at last for the holidays, was even more exciting than the return of her brother. She loved Ernie, of course, and it would be grand to have him thumping around the house again, but Paul—

She took a long breath and let it out slowly, and automatically her fingers flew to the chain around her neck. Had it only been three months since Paul had given it to her? She had teased her mother about feeling as though Ernie had been gone three years instead, but now, somehow, it did not seem so funny. It did seem like years since she had seen Paul. It seemed longer, perhaps, because the three mtonths had been such odd ones, filled with the loneliness of not being one of the crowd any longer and the beginnings of new friendships with people she had not known before. There was so much to tell Paul, so much that could not be put into letters.

She had tried.

“Now that I'm definitely not going to be a debutante,” she had written, “I seem to have nothing in common with the Hill crowd any longer. I can't go to any of their parties, and the parties are all they talk about these days. I can't even take part in their charity fashion show. I still go around with Nancy some, but that's more because I'm Ernie's sister than anything else. When we're together, we can always talk about Ernie. It's going to seem so funny not doubling with them this Christmas, isn't it—imagine just sitting home while everyone else goes to the big holiday parties?”

She had waited nervously for his answering letter, hoping desperately that the thought of missing all the holiday fun would not be too disappointing to him. When it arrived, she drew a breath of relief. It was a long, rambling letter, full of the usual college news, and at the very end, almost as an afterthought, he had written, “So we miss a few parties? So what?” And that had been the end of it.

And now Paul was coming home. Missing the parties did not seem important to Lynn any more either. Paul was coming home. A day had never crawled by with such maddening slowness as the day before he was to arrive.

“Don't you think we should wait up for them?” she asked that night.

Her mother laughed. “My goodness, Lynn, they were leaving after classes this afternoon. That means, if they stop for dinner some place, they couldn't possibly be home before four o'clock in the morning. Ernie will probably just come clomping in and fall into bed, and Paul isn't going to feel like doing any visiting either. He'll be headed for his own home.”

“I suppose so,” Lynn said.

Nevertheless, she slept lightly, half listening for the sound of the car in the driveway. When it came, she awoke. She lay very still in bed, listening to the various noises of arrival—the slam of a car door, the muffled sound of boys' voices, trying to be quiet, the thump of a suitcase being dragged up the porch steps and the rattle of the front door.

Unable to stand it any longer, Lyon hopped out of bed, pulled on her heavy quilted housecoat and slipped down the stairs.

Ernie was just coming in the front door. His eyes were
red and bleary, as though he had been asleep in the back seat of the car, but he looked up and grinned at her.

“Hi, Sis! Where is everybody?”

“Asleep in bed, idiot,” Lynn retorted, surprised by the sudden flood of affection she felt at the sight of her brother. “After all, it's almost morning.”

“Don't I know it!” Ernie exclaimed, dumping his suitcase unceremoniously onto the floor. “I've been asleep for the last hundred miles and Paul's been driving. Messy driving too, wasn't it, fellow? It's started to snow.”

“It sure has. It looks as though we're going to have a white Christmas.” Paul stood in the doorway. At the sound of his voice, Lynn felt a tightening in her chest. She wanted to look at him, but suddenly, amazingly, she was afraid.

She kept her eyes on Ernie. “Do you boys want something to eat?”

“I do,” Ernie declared. “Come on, Paul, let's raid the icebox.”

“Not me,” Paul said. “I've got to be getting home. Mom's the ‘waiting up' kind.”

“Well, give me a call tomorrow then.” Ernie said, disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. “Not too early, though. I'm going to sleep till noon.”

“O.K.”

The kitchen door swung closed behind him.

There was no excuse for not looking at Paul now. Lynn raised her eyes tentatively.

She thought, please! Please don't have changed!

He was standing by the door, one hand awkwardly on the knob, his face ruddy with the cold.

Lynn thought, he's so tall! I never realized before how
tall he is. And so much older looking, so kind of sophisticated! What will he think of me now? Will I seem terribly young to him? He's used to sophisticated college girls. Maybe there's even a special girl—one he didn't want to write me about. Maybe—

She was very conscious of her uncombed hair, of the lack of make-up, of the old blue housecoat. She said, “Hi.”

“Hi!”

Paul took his hand off the doorknob, and Lynn crossed the room to him, feeling the strangeness inside her.

Please, like me she thought. Oh, please, don't have changed! I couldn't bear it if you had changed!

Paul put his hand gently beneath her chin and tilted her head up so he could look her full in the face. He let his fingers run down the side of her neck . . . and then he grinned, and with the grin, the old Paul was back again, just as though he had never been away. And suddenly Lynn was not afraid any longer.

“You're still wearing it. I was afraid maybe you weren't I mean—well, darn it, I don't know why I was so worried. It was crazy—”

“I know,” Lynn said, smiling back at him, “but I was, too—worried, I mean. That maybe things wouldn't be the way they were. That you would have met somebody else.”

“For gosh sakes,” Paul said gruffly, “do you think I hand out rings to every girl who comes along? Of course, there's nobody else. But what about you—”

“Nobody else,” Lynn said happily. “For gosh sakes,” she said, imitating his tone of voice, “do you think I wear every ring that comes along?”

“You better not!” he asserted. He kissed her then.
Gently, the way he always kissed her.

And Lynn, standing on her tiptoes, thought he's so tall! I'd forgotten how tall!

He tightened his arms around her. “Still my girl? I've missed you like the very dickens.” He released her. “Look what I've done, I've gotten you all wet. I didn't know I had so much snow on this jacket.”

“It's no permanent damage,” Lynn said happily. “Can't you sit down for a few minutes? There's so much to talk about I want to hear all about college, and there are so many things I couldn't get into my letters.”

“I'd like to,” Paul said, “but I've got to get home. Mom will be awake, and if I don't get in soon, she'll think we had a wreck some place. Mom is like that. Besides, your folks wouldn't be too keen on it either, at this hour.”

“No,” Lynn admitted. “Well, we've got two whole weeks, anyway.”

“Sure, plenty of time.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I'll call you tomorrow. O.K.?”

“O.K.,” Lynn said. “Good night”

She stood for a few moments after he had shut the door, listening to his footsteps on the porch, the opening and closing of the car door, the start of the engine. Then she let out her breath in a long sigh.

Paul is home!

It was a singing deep within her.

Paul is home, and it's just the way it always was!

This time, when she went to sleep, she slept hard. It was full-fledged morning, when she awoke again.

She knew when she first opened her eyes that there was something different about the day. The light in her room
was different and there was a strange, glaring quality to it that made her squint her eyes. Sunlight flooded through the windows with a stark, blinding whiteness. It did not take the memory of Paul's words the night before to tell her that it had snowed.

A glance out the window confirmed the fact. The dead, dried lawn was covered with a blanket of whiteness. Even the branches of the trees outside the window were thinly coated with white, and she could see Holly's younger brother was already outside in his snowsuit, trying to scrape together the beginning of a snowman, over in the Taylors' back yard.

Lynn fought back an impulse to join him. So short a time ago it seemed, she and Ernie had been out on the lawn with the first snowfall, eagerly dragging along their sleds and throwing snowballs. Dodie had sometimes come too, but usually they were too busy for her. Dodie was always having to be taken care of because she was so small for her age.

So short a time ago. But now Lynn was a senior in high school and Ernie a college freshman, and it was Holly's little brother who ran shouting in the yard. Lynn took a deep breath, with an odd feeling of having lost something, and drew the window closed.