Chapter 9
Ever since moving to Washington, Penny had made it a point to return to The Grove for occasional weekends with the family. She knew Gena looked forward to these visits, so she saved up any amusing incidents that had happened in the office or elsewhere to relate to her young sister. Gena listened, entranced, visibly impressed by Penny's account of "evenings on the town" with the sophisticated Mark Graham and the important people she'd encountered.
She's growing up-but fast, Penny reflected. And she's changing, getting ideas. Have I been setting a pattern?
It was a sobering thought, made fleeting by the reminder that the whole world was changing and Gena, no longer a child, was running true to form. Come October, Gena would be fifteen years old. Penny was now twenty; had been since June. Now and then during one of their gab fests, Penny would say, in apology for past derelictions:
"I haven't forgotten the lovely weekend in Washington I've been promising you, angel. It's just that-well, I don't know what happens to the time-"
"It's all right, sis. I know how busy you are, and I guess I've been almost as busy here at home. Besides, I'd rather wait till I get my contact lenses and grow used to them." Gena's face would flush and she would slip off what she called her "owl glasses," adding:
"I wouldn't be caught dead in front of a lot of important people in these dreadful things. Any how, I'm having a ball here at home. Mom's always saying, 'East, West-home's best.' Could be she's right."
"Could be," Penny would agree, indulgently at first, but with growing conviction as time passed.
Today, as she half-ran along the shady street, en route from the bus station to the cottage, Penny tried to recall just when The Grove had suddenly become "home." It was not on the first few visits, when the Georgetown apartment was exciting and new; when the rehabilitated little house was only a gleam in Dad's eyes and a dream in Erlene's heart.
But the painting and repair work had gotten finished, despite Philip Gilmore's amateur status. Gena and Erlene had taken over the interior-decorating job, unpacking and arranging the beautiful curios and exotic pieces they'd collected in far-away places and stored in the garage. The Gilmores, in fact, had achieved a modern miracle out of love and three pairs of willing hands.
Where have I been all this time and what have I been doing? Penny asked herself as she ran up the flagstone walk that led to the cottage.
Erlene opened the door, greeted her stepdaughter fondly and led her inside. Phil and Gena had gone shopping for groceries, she explained. "So I'm taking this opportunity to move things around some more. I've had that Greek Discus Thrower in five different places so far, and he still looks as though he doesn't belong...."
"Don't change a thing, darling," Penny said. "The whole place looks lovely, warm, and inviting. You and Gena outdid yourselves on those draperies. And the brass Egyptian tray makes a handsome coffee table. You've really done wonders-and in such a short time."
"We've been all summer," Erlene said matter-of-factly.
"All summer?" Penny repeated, realizing but still not wanting to believe that the summer was nearing its end.
"That's right, dear." Erlene, now busy making coffee and preparing a mid-morning snack for herself and Penny, smiled happily. "Hard to believe, isn't it? This is the last weekend in August. The only thing that remains to be done is to give the housewarming. We've decided to do that on Labor Day, when everyone in The Grove can be here."
It was Penny's turn to become time-conscious. Labor Day, she pointed out after a moment's calculation, was less than ten days away. "Are you out of your mind, Erlene?" she teased. "What are you going to use for time, for food, for help? Couldn't we hire somebody? What I mean is," she amended hastily, "is there something I can do to help?"
Erlene nodded. "I was just about to ask if you'd help write the guests. I'd like your employer, J. Cyrus Henry, to be here. Do you think he'll be staying in Washington over Labor Day?"
Penny said she thought so, but would make sure when she returned to work on Monday. Erlene also suggested that Penny's three suite mates and their young men be invited-and David Stewart, of course.
"And that nice public relations man who works for Mr. Henry-Mr. Graham, isn't it? Your father did him a small favor and, in return, he is putting Phil in touch with a fine literary agent," Erlene explained.
So Mark Graham repaid a favor with a favor! This indeed was a switch from the bare-faced opportunist Penny had first known-or so she felt. Perhaps Mark's idea about getting to know everyone-pushy though it seemed-wasn't such a bad philosophy of life after all. She nodded an agreement to Erlene's request and said:
"I hate to say this, but it begins to sound as if you'll need to hire a hall. With the delegation from Washington and everyone in The Grove...."
Erlene was not perturbed. She had decided the only solution was a barbecue, she explained. They had their own grill and could borrow others from neighbors; Philip and the other men would do the cooking. Barbecued chicken and hot dogs, with corn on the cob, would be the staples. And of course there would be tossed salad, potato salad, baked beans, pickles, and everything else necessary for a bang-up cookout. The vacant lot next door could be used for games and/or square dancing. "It still sounds like a lot of work," Penny said dubiously. "Oh, I know you've made beautiful parties all over the world. I'll never forget ... "
"This isn't that kind of a party," Erlene protested. "And I'll have help. Practically every woman who comes will bring some special dish-and plenty of it."
"You mean they come as guests and bring food?"
"But of course." Erlene nodded. "That's a good old American custom, and it still prevails here in The Grove. Why, Mrs. Magone would be genuinely hurt if I didn't ask her to bring the tossed salad with her own Italian dressing. Wait till you taste it; you'll think you're back in Naples!"
Penny smiled, and Erlene took a notebook from her apron pocket and consulted it briefly. "Mrs. Babcock will bring watermelon-rind pickles; Fran Mitchell, baked beans; and I'm counting on Katy Radigan for raised doughnuts. We'll arrange a long table under the oak trees, and the guests will help themselves."
"You make it sound as if you're going to be a lady of leisure."
Erlene shook her head. "No-I have a problem. It's up to me to bake the biggest cake our oven will hold, with coconut icing and great gobs of pineapple filling. The problem is how to make it look nice and still hold together when there's more filling than cake."
"That shouldn't be too much of a chore for you, darling," Penny said. "It sounds heavenly. And anything you cook is bound to be perfect. I don't know how you do it."
"Well, this culinary curio has got to be a masterpiece"-Erlene grinned-"because it's a wedding cake, and I happen to have a great thing going for the bridegroom."
Penny looked at her stepmother with dawning realization. "Oh, then it isn't just a housewarming you're planning. It's an anniversary party, too. You and Dad have been married-let's see-twelve years?"
"No, it's thirteen years-all of them good. But then"-Erlene grinned again not every woman has the luck to get a wonderful husband and two lovely girls in one fell swoop."
Penny smiled; then her face became serious. "They've been good years for Gena and me, too, Erlene. Thank you for marrying Dad. In my book, you're both tops."
Erlene, evidently a little embarrassed over this unprecedented compliment from her stepdaughter, pushed her empty coffee cup aside and began to stack the dishes on her tray. Any minute now, she told Penny, Philip and Gena would be returning from their shopping expedition. Meanwhile, it was up to her, Erlene, to get the trays cleared and the dishes washed and put away, so there would be room for the groceries they were bringing.
"Gena," she added, "has her new contact lenses. She's wearing them for the first time today-and is the child thrilled! Don't forget to admire them. She looks lovely."
"I won't forget. And I'm sure she looks lovely. She'll be a real heartbreaker one of these days," Penny predicted, smiling fondly.
"Not Gena-that is, not if she can help it," Erlene countered, smiling just as fondly. "She'd sooner break her own heart than hurt a living soul. She's like that-our Gena; gets more like her father every day."
Penny, upon being told that this was a one-woman job and she could do nothing to help, sat down at the kitchen table, where she remained silent, deep in thought. As she watched Erlene bustling around, getting things ready for the Big Moment when her man would come home, bringing the bacon, or whatever, Penny had a deep conviction that she was seeing the good life-the really good life-in action.
Here, she decided, is love-real love. It's a matter of working and giving, not just wishing and taking. I wonder why I never realized it before....
Penny was agreeably surprised at the alacrity with which her invitations were accepted J. Cyrus Henry canceled a speaking engagement. "A barbecue?" he boomed. "I'll be there, complete with buckles and spurs. What can I bring-maybe soft drinks and sorghum popcorn balls for the crowd? That's an old Southwestern custom, bringing things. I'll have fresh roastin' ears flown up from Texas."
"I am honored to be asked," was Mark Graham's formal manner of acceptance.
"There won't be any 'ins' at the party," Penny warned him. "This is strictly for 'outs.' "
Mark acted hurt. "Do I strike you as such an ornery character?" he demanded. "Anyway, for my money, your father is one of the 'ins' of all time."
Penny's roommates were equally quick to accept. Nellie-May, when told she could bring her "steady," Chet Dalton, threw her arms around Penny and kissed her.
"You're the most understandin' person I ever met, sugah," the girl said fervently. "You're purely a livin' doll. If it wasn't for you, I'm sure Cynthia wouldn't let me even have a boyfriend, much less take him to a party. Could I, please, ask a favor?"
"What is it?" Penny asked warily.
Nellie-May, with her usual flair for the oblique approach, did not answer directly. Chet had bought a car, she confided; an elderly jalopy, which he had made as good as new with his bare hands and the help of a friend, whose name was Barry Chilton. Barry was a nice boy, a little younger than Chet.
"You know what, sugah?" the girl finished breathlessly. "Cynthia will let me drive out to the party with Chet in his sweet little ol' new car, if we make it a crowd-and three's a crowd. She's purely hipped on the subject of there being safety in numbers-if you know what I mean."
Penny assured her that Barry Chilton would be welcome. "I'll check with Cynthia, of course."
Susan, instead of making an excuse to stay away from the party as Penny had feared, accepted without question. More than that, she would provide her own escort. Cynthia, returning late from a trip, said she would be delighted to come, but Penny sensed her hesitation.
"If you're worried about a partner, don't be," Penny told her. "Dave Stewart, now starting his residency at the Medical Center, can't get away till late, so Mark Graham will drive me out to The Grove. We'd love to have you go with us, and maybe you can run interference when I get too many escorts to handle. Dave will bring me home."
"Penny Gilmore, you're the nicest person I know," Cynthia exclaimed. "A few months ago I wouldn't have said that," she added with characteristic honesty. "You certainly have changed."
Labor Day dawned cloudless and pleasantly warm, despite the weatherman's predictions to the contrary. All along the East Coast, including Maryland, there were storm warnings, to the effect that the first big hurricane of the season was on its way. According to reports this very definitely was no day to plan a cookout. It seemed to Penny that her stepmother must have a spe-. cial dispensation from on high to get such a perfect day and to have her plans work out so beautifully.
Erlene had set the time loosely as "any minute from three o'clock on-the earlier the better." Penny, with Mark and Cynthia, started from the apartment at three-thirty, Nellie-May and her two escorts following close behind them.
"We'll be the first guests to arrive; nobody ever gets to a party on time," Penny explained. "People are funny that way."
Cynthia didn't say anything. But Mark, who had been waiting a short time for the cortege to start, muttered something about this being America-and hadn't Penny ever heard the old rule about punctuality being the courtesy of kings? As Mark would, being a changed man!
"We'll be lucky if we get there in time for the doxology-songfest to you, my dear," Mark added quite sourly.
As they came into The Grove, Penny saw that the party was well under way-and it was, indeed, an all-inclusive affair. A neighbor was directing traffic, and cars were parked in every available driveway. There was a long table in the backyard, with covered dishes filled with good things to eat. Erlene's handsome cake, under a great glass dome, dominated the festive board.
As she got out of Mark's car, Penny could see three sizzling grills, attended by white aproned men wearing chef's hats and smug smiles as with long, business-like forks they flip-flopped succulent meats over the glowing charcoal. One of the "chefs," Penny thought, looks a whole lot like Dad!
But it can't be, she decided on second thought, and not without reason. More than once Philip Gilmore, journalist, had boasted that he could not so much as boil water without burning it! However, that had been yesterday. Dad, too, had changed along with all the others.
Surveying the scene, Penny noticed that J. Cyrus Henry was already on hand. More than this, he had gone into business. On the vacant lot next door, borrowed for the occasion, he had set up a stand of his own. Now he was dispensing soft drinks, Southwestern peanuts, and sorghum balls to all takers; not to mention broad smiles and warm handshakes.
"He's a born politician, the sweet old coot," Penny said to Mark. "He could be President of the whole United States if he wanted to be, I guess. He could even be Mayor of The Grove! Never mind the image stuff-it's built-in. You were so right when you said that."
Erlene, in a pale green shirred dress, stood on the small front porch, waiting to greet them, looking every inch the queenly hostess. Giving her a quick hug, Penny whispered:
"You're back in the groove, darling. Looks like it doesn't have to be an Embassy wingding to be a success," Erlene beamed. "You're telling me?"
Gena, standing beside Erlene, appeared to be a little lost, despite her new party dress and cherished contact lenses. But at that moment Nellie-May and her two male satellites joined the group, and Gena was suddenly transformed.
She greeted the Southern girl and her beau with friendly warmth, but her manner toward Barry Chilton-a homely youth, Penny thought-was aloof and condescending. Penny and her stepmother exchanged amused glances; then Erlene suggested that the four teenagers go over to the far side of the yard, where a dart game was in progress.
Penny ran out to the grill where her father, with deadly seriousness, was operating on a broiling chicken.
"Dad, is that you?" she bantered. "I thought at first you were a chef from the Cordon Bleu. You look so-well-professional!"
"I'm an expert," her father said modestly, giving her a peck on the cheek. "This is the kind of life Erlene and I have dreamed of for years. But tell me, baby, are you happy here in the States?" he asked, his glance suddenly sharp.
"Yes-oh, yes, Dad!"
"Good. That's all I wanted to know." Philip Gilmore smiled happily, flipped over a broiler, and joined in the chorus of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game," which the fellow chefs had started.
Penny wandered around, shaking hands with the people she knew and smiling at everyone. Glancing about, she noticed that Cynthia and Mark were finding one another quite compatible; they were sitting near the long buffet table, chatting earnestly.
The two sets of youngsters were running true to form: Nellie-May and Chet were playing darts, while Gena and Barry sat watching them with exaggerated formality. Penny waved at them, then sighed. Among all these people, she alone was a misfit.