Chapter 9
"Mrs. Jameson, I'm going to give you the day off," Dolly said gaily as she came into the kitchen on Wednesday morning. "You and Mums have been talking about visiting Mrs. Carroll over in Stanton, and I want you to hop to it."
Mrs. Jameson paused with the wet dishcloth still in her hand. "What brought this on?" she demanded.
"Nothing new," Dolly explained. "Every once in so often I get to feeling kind of useless. While I was getting ready for the dance, I kept busy enough. But now that it's over, I thought I'd like to relieve you and Shirley of the kitchen chores for one day at least."
"That isn't the whole story, Dolly," said Mabel Jameson, shaking her head. "And I won't go along with your idea unless I know what you're up to."
Dolly h-edged for a while longer, but Mrs. Jameson was adamant.
At last Dolly admitted she had told Tom Sanders that she could cook. His glowing praise of everything Shirley cooked had gotten under her skin. Later, when Mrs. Jameson had taken over, Tom had been equally loud in his praises, Dolly added diplomatically.
"He didn't say anything loud enough for me to hear," Mrs. Jameson retorted. "But I guess clean plates are praise enough for any cook. I never did set out to do anything fancy, but I can put a good meal on the table if I do say so."
Dolly pressed her advantage. It wasn't that she didn't give all due credit to Shirley, she pointed out, but cooking was not the beginning and end of the world. She just wanted to show that smart-alecky upstart from Virginia that a girl could run a country club dance or cook a meal with equal ease.
"I think, too, that George Weaver deserves a change of menu. He's been picking at his food ever since Dinky-Richard, I mean-ran away last Saturday. Mums will be glad to see Mrs. Carroll, I'm sure. I'll ask her right away."
Mrs. Jameson dried her hands and untied her apron with dispatch. She glanced around the shining kitchen; everything was in place. But as Dolly turned to leave, Mrs. Jameson said:
"Wait a minute, Dolly. What did you plan to have for supper tonight?"
She had thought to make a lemon chiffon pie, Dolly told her, because she was very sure of her prowess with this type of dessert. She might even make two pies! For the main course, she hastened to add, as Mrs. Jameson looked at her questioningly, she thought she would make up a salad plate. She would put chicken salad in the center and surround it with potato salad, pickled beets, green scallions, tomato aspic and stuffed olives. Those very nice cheese crackers that Shirley had bought last week were still unopened in the pantry, Dolly pointed out.
"We don't have any chicken," Mrs. Jameson said disparagingly. "Anyway, that's no meal to serve three men who have been working hard all day. They always have cold sandwiches for lunch, and at night they need something hot in their stomachs."
"I never thought of that," Dolly confessed.
"Now we've got two things in the freezer," Mrs. Jameson went on, "that would go well with your lemon chiffon pie. We've got two nice T-bone steaks, or we've got enough beef for a stew. Personally, I would suggest you make a stew. It's hard for anyone to go wrong with that if you put in enough vegetables and don't use too much water."
Dolly thanked her for the suggestion and darted out of the room. She was back a few minutes later to say that she had her mother's approval of the idea and that Shirley had agreed to stay out of the kitchen for the afternoon. Jenny had also suggested that they take Richard with them on the trip to Stanton, and with this Mrs. Jameson heartily agreed.
It was a flushed and slightly disheveled Dolly who started flying around the kitchen at three o'clock that afternoon. She had spent most of the intervening hours picking roses for the centerpiece and in choosing just the right yellow damask tablecloth to match the color of the flowers. The only candles she could find were white, but Shirley had taken the car and she could not go to town for yellow ones. However, by the time she had put white doilies under the brass candlesticks, the whole table looked very festive. Stew or no stew, Dolly promised herself, this was going to be a meal to remember!
Because the day was hot, Dolly was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a blue halter. Over this she had tied one of Mrs. Jameson's voluminous aprons, which reached halfway to her ankles but did not quite close in back. She had bound her hair with a blue satin ribbon that had looked very pretty when she first put it on but that kept sliding off her curls in a maddening way.
There was no time to think of that now, Dolly reminded herself as she glanced at the racing clock. She must put the stew on and let it simmer, as Mrs. Jameson had told her to do. She should have taken the meat out of the freezer before this, but she had forgotten all about it. However, while it was thawing, she could make the chiffon pies, and there would still be time to peel the vegetables, put them in the pot and make a salad. The main thing was, the table was all set and it looked lovely.
"I'll show Tom Sanders that I'm no lily of the field," Dolly told herself. "I'll bet by the time he finishes this dinner, he'll know that even a pretty girl can be an efficient cook."
But everything took a little longer than Dolly had expected. For one thing, the stew meat was so thoroughly frozen that it refused to thaw out until Dolly had the happy inspiration of soaking it in hot water. For another thing, there were not quite enough graham crackers to make the crust for two lemon chiffon pies, so Dolly had to compromise on one fairly large pie which could not hold all the filling she had made. And, of course, she would have to cut her finger while she was peeling the potatoes, which made it necessary to run upstairs and apply first aid. While there, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and thought that she looked the part of a household drudge.
But there was no time to bother about that now. She flew downstairs and tried to keep her bandaged finger from getting in the way while she cut up the vegetables. It was already five o'clock, and usually all the men were in the house at five-thirty and ready to eat at six. Well, Dolly thought rebelliously, tonight they would just have to eat at a more fashionable hour; the stew would be ready at seven. Maybe she'd better just skip the salad.
She took the meat out of the hot water-it was a peculiarly sickly gray color, but satisfactorily limp-and put it into the pot. Not realizing that the meat needed a head start, she added the vegetables and put in a scant cup of water, remembering Mrs. Jameson's admonition that too much water would spoil the stew. She turned the gas flame high in order to speed up the cooking and realized suddenly that she was quite tired.
The kitchen was a shambles, but she would wait to clean it up until after she was dressed. Under no circumstances must Tom Sanders see her dressed as she was now. She had just started up the stairs when the front door bell rang.
"If that's a salesman, I'll teach him not to come around bothering women while they're trying to cook dinner," Dolly said in annoyance.
She opened the door and for a second could not believe her eyes. On the doorstep stood two of the most attractive and sophisticated young women Dolly had ever seen. The tall one was as blonde and blue-eyed as Dolly herself. But where Dolly's hair curled softly around her face, the girl wore her hair in a smooth and shining gold cap. Whereas Dolly's face was rounded, the girl's was a classic oval. Her gray linen frock was smartly cut and her shoulders were square and suntanned.
The shorter girl was dark-haired, but she too was perfectly groomed and smartly dressed in a blue linen sheath. Behind them the afternoon sun glinted on the chrome trim of a bright-red convertible which seemed to Dolly's dazzled eyes to be studded with diamonds.
"Is this the Winsted home?" the blonde one asked.
Dolly nodded dumbly. To save her life she could not have uttered a word. The musical, slightly husky voice was as striking as the girl herself.
"See, Cindy, I told you I could find the place," the blonde girl said triumphantly. She turned back to Dolly. "I am Dorothy Palmer and this is my friend Cynthia Hallbrook. We wondered if we could see Dan and Tom this evening. We are on our way to Ogunquit, Maine, for a few weeks' vacation, and it seemed a pity not to stop by when we were so close."
"They-Dan and Tom, I mean-they're not home yet," Dolly said in a voice she scarcely recognized as her own. "But do come in," she added awkwardly. "You can wait for them here. I'm Dorothy Winsted." The next minute she could have bitten her tongue off; why in the world hadn't she said she was the maid?
They came into the house, and as Dolly turned to show them into the living room the blonde girl gave a little squeal of laughter.
"That costume is really something," said Dorothy Palmer. "Did you know that apron doesn't quite close in the back?"
Dolly knew that the comment was made in all friendliness, but she could not help feeling chagrined that she had been caught in such an outfit by such perfectly turned-out guests.
"I was just on my way upstairs to change," she said stiffly. "If you want to wait in the living room, I'll go up and change right now."
The two girls went into the living room with exclamations of approval. At any rate the room looked nice, Dolly reflected as she ran up the stairs; she had been fortunate enough to pick some additional roses for the bisque vase on the coffee table.
Dolly dressed more quickly than she ever had before. She had not intended to wear the white dress tonight, but she felt that the occasion called for nothing less.
"The hostess always wears white," she muttered grimly. "And anyhow, it's the only thing I have that looks sophisticated enough for those two."
She tried to smooth down her hair, although she knew it was hopeless. Thanks to her exertions in the kitchen, her hair was more tightly curled than ever and would no respond to any smoothing-down effort.
By the time she reentered the living room she had regained her poise and was delighted to see that both girls approved of her dress.
"Have you driven all the way from Virginia?" she asked in her best hostess manner.
"Yes, we did," Cindy Hallbrook answered for both of them. "Dan and I and my father have been very close ever since my mother died. Of course he's only been away from home for a month, but when I heard that Doll was driving up to Ogunquit, begged a ride."
"Since your name is Dorothy, too," the blonde girl said, "you know how it is with that name. Nobody ever uses it, and I am so used to being called 'Doll' now that I scarcely answer to anything else."
Dolly said helplessly: "They call me 'Dolly.' "
"But of course! We are so much alike in coloring," Doll commented. "But you are a Dolly, and" -she shrugged expressively- "I am scarcely a doll."
There were many who might dispute the fact, Dolly thought, but she did not make a point of it. She only smiled, and at that moment she heard Shirley come in the front door.
"In here, Shirley," she called. "We have guests."
"I'll be right in," Shirley said in a voice that was oddly strangled. "Something's burning, Dolly. I'll go right out to the kitchen."
With a hasty "Excuse me," Dolly followed her cousin. She had been so upset and so eager to entertain the unexpected guests that she had completely forgotten the beef stew! But, once reminded, she could not imagine how she had missed the odor that hung like a tangible cloud in the hall and which was intensified in the smoke-filled kitchen. There was no doubt about it. She had followed Mrs. Jameson's instructions not to use too much water. As a consequence the meat, the potatoes, the carrots and the tomatoes were scorched until they seemed about to burst into flame.
Before Dolly even came into the kitchen Shirley had opened the back door, turned on the kitchen fan and turned off the gas. Dolly could only stand in the center of the floor and wail:
"What am I going to do? My beautiful dinner is ruined. Oh, what am I going to do?"
"First," Shirley said with authority, "you are going to tell me what you had planned for dinner. And what in the world happened to make you forget that you had food cooking on the stove? It's almost five-thirty, and we have not only three men but two guests expecting to eat. Come on; talk."
It was the guests who had caused the trouble, Dolly explained. They had appeared just as she was about to go upstairs and dress. The one girl, Doll Palmer, wanted to see Tom Sanders. The dark-haired one, Cindy Hallbrook, asked to see Dan.
"Dan's wife?" Shirley's lips were white and she could move them only with difficulty. "You mean Dan is married?"
"I don't know," Dolly said with a puzzled frown. "Of course their names are the same, but I honestly didn't think of it; everything happened so fast."
Shirley rallied and took the situation in hand. Dolly was to go back into the living room and entertain their guests until Dan and Tom showed up. In the meantime she, Shirley, would take the steaks out of the freezer and start the broiler. Since the vegetables were scorched, she would take what they had in the freezer and start them cooking before she herself came into the living room.
"And if I find out Dan Hallbrook is married, after what he said to me, then I'll feed them all burnt stew and they can like it," Shirley added vindictively.
The tears in Dolly's eyes threatened to overflow. "But what about my beautiful dinner?" she wailed. "Now Tom Sanders will be sure that what he said is true: I don't know a thing about keeping house."
Shirley assured her cousin that Tom Sanders would know nothing of the sort. She would broil the steaks, would make a mushroom gravy, and would arrange dishes of frozen peas and French fried potatoes in good time for a six o'clock supper. Dolly, meanwhile, was to put on her sequin-trimmed hostess apron and bring the food in from the kitchen as if she alone were responsible for its preparation.
"Shirley, darling!" Dolly was radiant. "I'll do as much for you sometime." She danced out through the door.
When Shirley came into the living room a few minutes later, the three girls were apparently enjoying each other's company. She hesitated in the doorway until Dolly, noticing her presence, brought her in and introduced her to the others. Because Cindy Hallbrook was closest to the door, Dolly introduced her first. Cindy impulsively held out her hand.
"I'm Dan's sister," she explained. Shirley could only stare at her blankly; she had been so convinced that the girl was Dan's wife she could scarcely believe her ears.
"And this is Dorothy Palmer-Doll to us," Dolly continued. Her wise smile acknowledged the fact that all was well for Shirley.
This time it was Shirley who stretched out her hand in welcome. "I am so glad to know you, Miss Palmer-Doll."
"I am Tom Sanders' fiancee," the blonde girl explained with a smile, and Shirley saw the light go out of Dolly's face.
They were saved from further conversation by the entrance of George Weaver. Shirley thankfully slipped back to the kitchen to put the steak under the broiler. She could not help overhearing when the truck drivers came in shortly after. There was evidently a quiet reunion between Dan and his sister. But Doll's squeal of delight could have been heard in the heart of the village two miles away.
"Sugah! Sugah! What do you mean going off and leaving me alone for a whole month? I purely can't stand having you away from me so long and messin' up with all these pretty Nawthen gals. You come right back with me this minute. You hear?"
Shirley slammed the oven door with unnecessary vigor. Poor Dolly! What was she going to do now?