Lilac Avenue (16 page)

“Marigold’s crowd thinks they’re too good for the IWS,” Hannah said. “They prefer bridge parties with maid service.”

“They also could care less about charity fundraisers, unless it’s an excuse to wear a ball gown and gaudy jewelry,” Maggie said.

Claire, who would have loved an excuse to wear a ball gown, liked her jewelry big and sparkly, and enjoyed being waited on hand and foot, thought maybe that was why she wasn’t invited. It still stung.

“I’m going,” she said. “Unless you have to be formally invited.”

“There’s a ten buck cover,” Hannah said. “But that goes to hospice.”

Claire gathered up her handbag and tu
rned the little “I’ll be back in” sign to one hour.

Up at the Rose Hill Community Center, cars were parked closely along both sides of the road, and the parking lot was full. A large crowd of ladies in summer dresses were milling about outside, where a huge marquee wa
s set up. There were multiple tables of food, and as Claire got closer, she could see they were all carefully labeled with colorful signs stuck down into flower pots.

“Gluten-free,” one of them read, and there were more, including, “Sugar-free,” “Dairy-free,” “Kosher,” and “Peanut-free.”

Hannah quickly found the table covered in sugary, allergen-filled baked goods, and began piling things on a plate.

Claire accepted a glass of lemonade and found a seat in the back row, inside the tent. Maggie and Hannah joined her there, and pointed out who everyone was. Candy waved to her, but didn’t come over. Kay was sitting on one side of the stage, and Marigold was on the other. Candy and her mother were sitting with Gigi O’Hare in the front row on the Marigold side, while Claire’s, Hannah’s, and Maggie’s mothers, along with Sister Mary Margrethe, were down front on the Kay side. Claire also saw many of Denise’s clients, plus Denise, her mother Delphie, her sisters, and her cousins.

Delphie and Denise came back to say hello.

“You should join the IWS,” Delphie said.

“Don’t do it,” Denise said. “At first you think one Tuesday per week is no big deal. What they don’t tell you about is all the homework they assign.”

“Homework?” Claire said.

“They are fundraising nuts,” Denise said. “Bake sales, silent auctions, car washes, you name it. Now they’re all about the social media, and I made the mistake of telling somebody I spend a lot of time on those sites. Now I’m in charge of the IWS Social Media Committee. Since I went on maternity leave I spend more time on IWS projects than I do taking care of Dom Jr.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Delphie said. “Come to a meeting and see what it’s like.”

“Maybe,” Claire said.

After they walked away
, Claire turned to Maggie.

“Do you belong to IWS?”

“Of course,” Maggie said. “Hannah and I are in charge of the dog wash coming up next month.”

“Why didn’t you ever mention it to me?” Claire asked.

“Didn’t think you’d be interested,” Maggie said. “It’s just local stuff.”

E
d entered the tent on Kay’s side. He had his camera, and was taking pictures of the crowd. He must have seen Claire through his lens, because at one point he lowered the camera and waved to her. She waved back, and then felt self-conscious as several people turned around to stare at her.

“Going to the chapel, and Claire’s gonna get mar-ar-arried,” Hannah sang.

“Hush,” Claire said.

“It’s starting,” Maggie said.

A very petite, older woman walked up onto the stage and Ed ran to adjust the microphone down for her, so she could reach it. She thanked him.

“Good morning,” she said.

“That’s Evelyn Dittmeyer,” Maggie whispered. “She teaches Political Science at Eldridge.”

“I’d like to welcome you to the Interdenominational Women’s Society Summer Luncheon,” she sa
id, “and thank you all for helping us support one of our favorite charities, Pine County Hospice.”

Scott appeared behind Maggie and slid into the chair next to
her. He grasped her hand and then let go. Maggie touched his leg and then drew her hand back. Claire reflected that was about as public a demonstration of their affection as anyone was ever likely to see. It was like a rare bird sighting.

Professor Dittmeyer invited the CEO of Pine County Hospice to say a few words, which turned into ten minutes of hospice education. Claire noticed Scott visibly tense as the woman spoke, and assumed this was because he had so recently lost his mother, who had received hospice care. At one point, Maggie put an arm around him and he leaned into her. Claire was amazed and delighted. Maybe Maggie could get married in a church
full of people after all.

“I’m going for more food,” Hannah whispered. “You want anything?”

Claire shook her head.

The Pine County Hospice CEO concluded her remarks by reminding everyone to fill out a living will and medical power of attorney, and directed them to stop at an information table set up outside before they left.

Professor Dittmeyer returned to the microphone.

“The IWS mission is a
simple one. In everything we do, we seek to accomplish three things: to help those who are in need; to raise awareness of worthy causes; and by thought, word, and deed, to in some way leave this world a better place than how we found it.”

There was applause, and Ed
snapped pictures of the crowd.

“As leaders in our own communities,” she continued, “we have a duty to support political leaders whose platforms align with our mission. Although you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who enjoys the nastier side of political races, nonetheless it’s important to take an active role. As a result of these contests, power is bestow
ed upon individuals who can facilitate changes in laws, policies, and the direction of resources which benefit those in need. Or, conversely, they can undo any good done by the previous administration. ”

“This is boring,” Hannah whispered. “I don’t give a flying duck about politics. I give zero ducks. Actually, there is no shortage of flying ducks I do not give.”

Maggie shushed her.

About that time there was a disturbance on Kay’s side of the stage, and Claire watched as Kay went over to the tent wall, lifted the undulating skirt of the tent, and picked up a small child who was standing there. It was Sammy.

“Oh, Lord,” Hannah said, while getting to her feet. “That one’s mine.”

Maggie rolled her eyes and shook her head as Hannah raced around the outside of the tent, up to the front, where Kay was handing Sammy to Claire’s mother.

“You all know Sammy,” Professor Dittmeyer said.

Many people in the audience laughed, although Claire noticed some pursed lips of disapproval. Claire could sympathize with both outlooks. Hannah took her son and left, Claire assumed never to return. He had given her a good excuse to eat her fill and escape.

Professor Dittmeyer introduced Marigold, who came forward to the microphone, and then made a big deal out of how low it was placed. Ed came forward to help, but she waved him away with an air of condescending dismissal, and detached the microphone from the stand.

“Hello,” she said. “If there are no other truant children to be apprehended, I’ll continue.”

There was a way she could have said it that would have been funny. Instead, she made it clear that she was one of the pursed-lipped crowd. It didn’t help that her face was one of those which, at rest, wore a naturally peevish expression.

As Marigold spoke, Claire studied her with a critical eye, and found a lot of room for improvement. Her voice and hands trembled, betraying her nervousness, which signified weakness. Her appearance was another minus.

Marigold was a large woman, an Amazon, much like Claire’s cousin Maggie. Unfortunately, Marigold liked to dress herself as if she were a much more petite person, and it just drew more attention to her size. Holding back her hair on each side she had used tiny white bows, more suited to a kindergartener than an adult woman. Her white sweater, appliqued with pastel pink butterflies, was stretched to accommodate her generous bosom, and as a result, the bottom of it barely met the top of her pink skirt, the back slit of which would have been modest on a much shorter person, but on Marigold, would treat those behind her to a generous view of the back of her girdled thighs.

Claire felt sorry for Marigold, who obviously wished to be a very different looking person than she was. Marigold was built just like her father, who had been a college football linebacker before he was a union pipefitter. Actually, she looked just like her father, but in drag; when Claire thought of her that way, she found she had more compassion for her.

Claire did not condone fat-shaming anyone, but she found herself doing it continually in her head. Thin-shaming was just as bad, and she had to admit she often did that as well. No matter what size someone was, it seemed like there was always a crowd on the sidelines holding up low scores.

‘No woman can win,’ Claire thought. ‘Marigold can’t help she inherited her fathe
r’s build; and whose business is it but hers how she likes to dress?’

Still, Claire was a professional appearance improvement specialist, so she dearly wished she could get Marigold into some more flattering clothing, maybe talk her into a more becoming hairstyle. Whether she agreed with her politics or not, everyone deserved to look their best, especially those in the public eye.

“I believe we lead by example,” Marigold was saying. “The example we set by how we live, by the company we keep, by how well we keep up our homes and property, and by how well our children behave.”

“Wretched witch,” Maggie said under her breath.

Marigold’s remark was obviously a dig at Hannah, and although it rankled Claire as well, she had to admit to herself that she kind of agreed, at least a little. Sammy ran wild like one of the strays Hannah was always chasing down, and it seemed like parents should be able to control the behavior of a three-year-old better than Hannah and Sam did.

“The future of Rose Hill is on a precipice,” Marigold said. “Overrun by tourists and college students, many of our homes have been turned into vacation and student rentals, eyesores that can be found on every street in this town, even in the better neighborhoods. We are quickly losing what made our town so precious. If you drive out Morning Glory Extension, quaintly known to its residents as Possum Holler, you will see the future of Rose Hill. Slum blight, they call it. I call it a darn shame.”

Claire was surprised to find that she agreed with Marigold about Possum Holler. It was a shame how dilapidated the houses out there were. As far as the tourists and students went, Claire wanted to remind Marigold that if it weren’t for them, there would not be one locally owned business open downtown.

“My platform is about restoring Rose Hill to the gem it was when I was a child. A place where people took pride in caring for their homes; a place where children honored their fathe
rs and mothers; a place where children weren’t afraid to play outside; a place where God-fearing people went to church every Sunday...

Claire wondered how the members of the Tree of Life Synagogue were feeling about that statement. Marigold desperately needed a pu
blic relations handler to educate her that there were other religions besides Christianity being practiced in Pine County.

“My values are your values: family, God, and America. I lead by example, and I expect my constituency to do so as well. If we make these values our first priority, above everything else, I believe we can restore this faded gem to its former brilliancy. Then, if there are those who don’t value the things we value, and cannot uphold the standards we demand, let them find somewhere else to live. Let’s make Rose Hill a model community full of model citizens. We can do it with the right leadership, the right laws, and the right attitude …
”

Claire reflected that a smarter candidate would have illustrated how her platform aligned with the mission of the IWS. Marigold, instead, was preaching to her small group of contemporaries, crowded together on her s
ide in the first few rows. These were the values that were important to them; or at least the ones they paid lip service to. Claire spotted several among them who were known to be having affairs, or drank a bit too much, or had children who were always in trouble. Marigold herself had a son nicknamed Jumbo who was known to be a remorseless bully.

Marigold wound it up within her time limit, but only after Professor Dittmeyer reminded her she had one minute. After the professor interrupted, Marigold rolled her eyes and shook her head before she continued. Claire winced at the graceless gaff, but Marigold was too oblivious to be embarrassed for herself.

“When you cast your vote,” Marigold said, “remember the Rose Hill you lived in when you were a child. Vote for that Rose Hill, and despite how tarnished and faded it has become, I will do my best to restore that gem.”

Marigold’s cronies clapped for her with the most enthusiasm, while the rest of the crowd was much more polite.

After Marigold sat down, Professor Dittmeyer introduced Kay, who asked for Ed to come up and adjust the microphone for her. She then thanked him with a big, sincere smile that everyone could see, saying, “Thanks, Ed.”