She awoke, still discombobulated, the next morning, Sunday, and after alternating moments of joy and anxiety, she telephoned her father. “Good morning, Papa, I thought I’d go to church with you this morning, since I’ll be with Sam this afternoon .”
“Really! What brought this on, homage to heaven or contempt for hell? You’re volunteering to go to church?”
She wasn’t even tempted to be a smart aleck with her father, so she swallowed the clever comment that had settled on the tip of her tongue and said, “It will be the only time I can spend with you today.”
“In that case, why don’t I pick up some fresh croissants, and you scramble some eggs, fry some bacon or sausage, and make some coffee. I’ll be over for breakfast in an hour.” He finished the command in a voice filled with laughter.
She wasn’t sure that mirth was in order, at least not on her part. If he willingly skipped church, it was because he wanted to know what had transpired between Sam and her. “Give me an hour and fifteen minutes, Papa, I just got up.”
“All right. See you then.”
She showered, dressed, and set the table. They’d have croissants, but she made biscuits for him to take home. As she tripped around the kitchen in a joyous mood, she suddenly stopped and nearly slipped on the tile floor
. Her father had advised her to talk with Sam in her apartment, provided that she loved him
. Reflecting on that for a few minutes, she realized that he knew they would want to make love if they made up, and he couldn’t advise her about that. But it was crystal clear to her that her father wanted her to marry Sam Hayes. She sat down in a chair beside the kitchen table and rubbed her forehead as if that would make everything clear and logical. Marriage in the foreseeable future hadn’t been in her plans.
She got up, turned the sausage, and told herself that she’d play it as the cards fell. She loved Sam and, after the loving he’d given her and the way he’d made her feel, she didn’t want to think of a life without him. Suddenly, laughter poured out of her. Her papa was skipping church, because he wanted to know what had transpired between her and Sam, but he’d get an edited version.
She rushed to answer the doorbell. “Goodness, Papa. You’re looking younger every time I see you. Do you have something to tell me?”
A grin spread over his face, and she reached up and kissed his cheek. “I wish I did. This place smells wonderful.” He sniffed. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d make biscuits?”
“I made them for you to take home.”
“I’ll take the croissants home. Let’s have the biscuits. Nobody makes them as good as you do.”
She poured orange juice, put the food on the table, and they sat down to eat. He said the grace, ending it with, “I don’t have to ask, Lord, because I know you answered my prayers. Amen.”
“You’re still the champion biscuit maker,” he said after biting into one. “How are things between you and Sam? Have you talked with him yet?”
“Yes, sir. We talked last night.”
He stopped eating, rested the utensils on the side of his plate, and leaned back in the chair. “Where did you talk?”
“Here. I invited him to dinner.”
He nodded. “Good. Did you air everything out? I mean, did he tell you the rest of it?”
“Yes, sir. He told me how he met her and what happened.”
“Then you know that what’s been bothering him is that he doesn’t want such a woman for a mother-in-law and definitely not for the grandmother of his children. So don’t think you can have it both ways. He won’t stand for it.”
“We haven’t gotten that far, Papa.”
“A smart man does not lock the barn door after the horse runs away; he takes care to lock the door while the horse is still in the barn. You understand?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve been hoping to get her into counseling.”
He pulled air through his front teeth, a gesture that she hadn’t known him to make. “Don’t waste your time or your money on that. I paid for counseling for Ginny, when we were trying to preserve the marriage, but she took the checks, destroyed them, and didn’t go near the counselor. When I didn’t see an improvement, I called the man, and he told me he’d seen her only once.”
“Then what will I do, Papa.?”
“Leave her to heaven, for goodness’ sake. How are you going to redirect somebody who doesn’t know she’s lost?”
“I guess that’s the problem. Did you bail her out?”
“Me? Of what? I didn’t know she was in trouble again. Maybe Ed did.”
“I don’t think so. He said Dot put her foot down, because they have three children to take care of and send to college. Mama already owes Uncle Ed twenty-eight thousand dollars for bailouts and loans.”
“It’s too bad. I can’t imagine what she’ll do.”
Kendra took a deep breath and told herself once more to be thankful for her father. “How can you eat so much of this fattening stuff and not gain weight, Papa?” she asked him when he took a third helping of biscuits and sausage.
“Simple. I exercise every morning, and I usually have cereal, juice, and coffee for breakfast. This is a treat. Thanks for changing the subject. I spend enough time worrying about the relationship between you and Ginny.”
Her relationship with her daughter was not on Ginny’s mind. She had avoided indictment for the accident for lack of proof that she was the driver. Because she was wearing leather gloves, she’d left no fingerprints on the steering wheel or elsewhere in the car. The police admitted that the fact that the old man had never had a driver’s license was not proof that he couldn’t or wouldn’t drive.
She sat in her living room staring out the window facing Kalorama Road. What did she have that she could pawn or sell? She didn’t want to part with that pair of bronze antique jugs, because the pawn broker wouldn’t give her much for them. She could ask Bert if he wanted to buy them, but she had told him at the time of the divorce and property settlement that she didn’t know where they were. After considering her options, she stood, walked with wooden legs to her closet, took her grandmother’s eighteen-carat-gold blue cameo locket and chain set from the box where it had rested for fifty years, and put it in her purse. Monday morning, she’d sell it wherever she could get the most money.
She felt no remorse for having to part with it. “It’s the way the cookie crumbles,” she said aloud, lifting her shoulder in a shrug, and heading to the kitchen to open a can of bean soup for her lunch.
Life has a way of screwing some people, and I’m getting more than my share. Kendra’s got that high-powered job, so she can just get off some of that money. I don’t care what Ed says or does.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam leaned against the wall just inside Kendra’s apartment looking at her and musing over the suggestion she’d just made. “You and your father want to have Dad, his date, and me for Christmas Eve dinner?”
“Yes. You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“Actually, I do, but that will mean you won’t be able to attend the Omega dance with me December the twenty-third. I haven’t been in several years, but since I have a beautiful woman to show off, I thought I’d go this year.”
“Thanks for the compliment. Maybe I could—”
He interrupted her. “We can go to my alumni dance New Year’s Eve. What about WAMA? Will you be working over Christmas?”
“I’m off from the twenty-second to the second, and Mr. Howell is giving me a bonus because I haven’t missed a day, not even in blizzard weather.”
“And you’re leaving for Italy January fourth.” He hadn’t realized that he would develop a negative attitude about her being alone in Italy for an entire month, but he had. And he knew he’d better keep that to himself. “Be sure that those Italian men don’t put their hands on you, and I mean not anywhere.”
She bristled and let him see it. “I don’t have to go that far in order to engage in hanky-panky. I can do that right here.”
He held both hands up, palms out. “All right. That was probably out of place, but I don’t feel like apologizing, because I meant it.” He ran his hands over his hair, bruising his scalp in frustration. “Do you know the topic you’re going to do your research on while you’re there?”
“I’ve been thinking about food in Florence, Milan, and Rome, and how that can be related to differences in the people.”
“That’s a great topic, because both the food and the people differ among these cities. You’ve probably guessed that I’m chatting because I don’t want to leave you. Kiss me and let me get out of here.”
He figured that she made the kiss as brief as her own libido would allow, before stepping back and gazing at him with an expression that said,
Of all the women you’ve encountered, you want me.
Something flickered in her eyes, and he knew that heat had begun to furl up in her.
“What is it? Don’t you want me to leave?”
She turned him to face the door. “Of course I don’t, but I can’t always have things the way I want them. I have to study.” He kissed her again and left.
Kendra got ready for bed, crawled in, and prepared to study. The telephone rang and, not remembering to check the ID, she answered. “Hello.”
“Hey kiddo, this is Flo. Sorry to call so late, but when I called earlier, no one answered. You’ve been out of touch lately, but that’s to be expected since you’re in school. Us Pace Setters are planning a Christmas Eve shebang at my place. Be sure and come, and bring that guy who’s keeping you away from us.”
“Oh, Flo, I’d love to, but my papa is having a dinner party that night, and I’m his hostess.”
“Oh, crap! Can’t you come over after your dinner?”
“Flo, honey, you know I love you guys, but I can’t walk out and leave my papa’s guests on Christmas Eve. He’d be scandalized. We planned this before Thanksgiving. You’ll have to excuse me this time. My papa never lets me down, so you know . . .”
She let it hang. Flo wouldn’t think of leaving her parents’ guests at a holiday party. It had taken time, she knew, many years, but Kendra was beginning to say no without a feeling of guilt. The knowledge buoyed her, because she would one day be able to stand up to her mother without feelings of remorse or guilt. She’d gotten better at defending herself against Ginny’s drama, but she still felt badly about doing it. She hung up as quickly as she could, because she knew that Sam would telephone her before he went to bed.
“I want a word with you, Ms. Richards,” Professor Hormel said when Kendra walked into his classroom the next morning. “I like your outline, but remember that your story shouldn’t be more than twenty-five double-spaced pages long. And you chose an interesting topic. However, proving your premise ought to cost you some effort. Good luck.” He handed her an envelope. “Here are your introductions to establishments in Rome, Florence, and Milan. I’ll see you back here February the first.” She thanked him and found a seat.
She arrived at work that evening and found a stack of Nat King Cole CDs and a note from the program director advising her that the week of December 6th to December 21st was Nat King Cole week, commemorating the first African American to have a television show, and the last episode of the Nat King Cole Show on NBC. She liked Nat’s music, but she didn’t see it as especially appropriate for Christmastime, so she played an hour of Nat King Cole and then switched to instrumental jazz. At eight-thirty, the operator told her to pick up the phone. She did.
“Hello out there. KT speaking. Who’ve I got here?”
“Hi, KT, this is Clarissa Holmes. Remember me? I called in to wish you and that nice man I met with you a very Merry Christmas and a great New Year.”
“What a great surprise! I’ll tell him, and I wish the same to you and Brock. Come back to see us soon. In a minute, I’m going to play your recording of ‘After Sundown.’”
“Thank you. Live life to the hilt, friend. Bye for now,” Clarissa said, and hung up.
Yes,
Kendra said to herself.
I needed to hear that, and I’m going to begin applying it come January.
When she went to bed the night before Christmas Eve, every muscle in her body ached. Her father had a reasonably good cleaning woman, but Kendra had polished the place until it glistened. Then, after she and her father had dressed the eight-foot Fraser fir tree, she prepared the turkey, stuffed it, made two lemon chiffon pies, prepared the vegetables for cooking, and put them in the refrigerator.
“You should have let me have the dinner catered,” Bert said. “You’ll be half-dead when we’re ready to eat.”
“You got someone to clean up. That’s what I hate to do,” she said.
Bert looked at the table and shook his head in wonder. “That’s the first time I’ve seen my mother’s porcelain on a table since she died. I don’t think Ginny set the table properly once in the five years we were married. When you marry, I’ll give you my mother’s porcelain, silverware, and crystal.”
“What if you marry again?”
“If I ever do that, my wife can choose her own tableware.” He pointed to the table. “That will be yours.”
“Seven is a strange number to have for dinner, Papa. Maybe we should have invited one more person. What about Gates?”
“Gates is married, and it’s just as well. He wouldn’t know a linen napkin from a handkerchief.”
By five o’clock Christmas Eve, Kendra had the dinner ready, except for last minute chores, and was soaking in a sea of pink bubbles in her father’s Jacuzzi. She dressed in a red, floor-length silk sheath that displayed all of her assets, combed her hair down below her shoulders, clipped silver hoops to her ears, and applied perfume in strategic places. She noted that she was showing a good deal of cleavage, but what the heck! Cleavage was in.
She answered the door
“Come in. I’m Mr. Richards’s daughter. Are you going to help us with the after-dinner cleanup?”
“Yes, ma’am. My name is Emma Barnes, and I’ll serve for you, too, if you want. If you’re having it in courses, please write out the menu and tell me which serving dishes you want me to use for the different items. I’ll take care of the rest.” Emma walked into the kitchen and looked it over. “Good. Dishwasher, nice counters, and plenty of space. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Kendra gave Emma the menu, showed her the serving dishes and utensils, and explained how she wanted the meal served. She had just flicked on the Christmas tree lights and placed two gifts under the tree when the doorbell rang. She opened it and Sam’s soft whistle greeted her.
“You look good enough to bite,” he said. “I’m engaging in self-restraint.”
“Don’t knock yourself out with it. We’re practically alone.”
His eyes sparkled. “Don’t tempt me. I have to spend the rest of the evening practicing self-control, and I’m starting the way I can hold out.” He kissed her quickly on the mouth.
“Where’s Bert?”
“He went to pick up two guests. I expect he’ll be here any minute.”
Sam sniffed. “Hmm. Now this is the way a place should smell on Christmas Eve. Who cooked?”
“I did. Go have a seat while I get us some drinks and hors d’oeuvres.”
“Wait till the others come,” he said at about the time the doorbell rang.
Kendra imagined that her jaw dropped when she opened the door to Jethro and instead of seeing Edwina with him, she looked into the face of a stunning woman around her own age or a little older.
“Come in,” she said, recovering as quickly as she could.
“Merry Christmas and welcome.”
“Kendra Richards, this is Andrea Lang. Andrea, Kendra is Sam’s girl.” He looked at Kendra with an amused expression and winked. “Did Sam get here yet?”
“Yes. He just got here. Papa!” she exclaimed when she saw Bert. “Everybody come on in.” She let Jethro introduce Andrea to her father.
“Welcome,” Bert said. “These are my friends, Jennifer and Hal Underwood, brother and sister. Where’s Sam?”
“Right here, Bert. Hi, Da . . . Dad.”
Jethro laughed and embraced Sam. “You’re looking great, son.” He handed Bert a package that contained two bottles of Courvoisier VSOP Cognac.
With the formalities dispensed with, they settled in the living room around the Christmas tree and were soon exchanging tales in a jocular fashion as if they had all known each other for a long time. However, beneath her relaxed and happy façade, Kendra hid a growing anxiety. Tired of guessing, she excused herself, went to the dining room, and called to Sam.
“Could you help me in here for a minute, please, Sam?”
“What is it?” he asked her as he walked into the dining room.
“Look, it’s none of my business, but it’s driving me up the wall. Did your dad break up with Edwina?”
“Not that I know of. I’m as surprised as you are.”
She’d always been told, like father, like son, and she did not care for what seemed like Jethro’s casual treatment of his relationship with Edwina. “But . . . does he do things like this?” she asked Sam. “I mean, three weeks ago, they were as tight as two pecan halves. What do you think happened?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Somehow, I don’t think anything’s happened to separate them.”
“But who is Andrea? Have you met her before?”
“Not as I recall. Who’s this lady who’s keeping Bert occupied?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Looks like our papas are doing their own thing tonight.”
“Yeah. Tell me about it,” he said, walking with her back to the living room.
“After dinner, if you three feel like listening, Jennifer, Hal, and I will play our guitars,” Bert said. “The three of us haven’t played together for a while, and I’m looking forward to it.” He looked at Andrea. “Do you sing?”
“I’ve been known to,” she said, “but not on a full stomach.”
“Not to worry,” Bert assured her. “We’re amateurs. Now, Sam can really sing.”
Kendra listened to the pleasant conversation, but it held little interest for her. What had happened between Jethro and Edwina? Had they split? Or was he cheating on her? She didn’t want to be unhappy on Christmas Eve, and especially not when her papa had gone to such pains to make it a wonderful occasion. But the story of Jethro and Edwina was such a beautiful tale, strengthening her faith in the power and durability of love.
She checked with Emma, returned to the living room, and announced that dinner was ready. “May I wash my hands?” Andrea asked her. Kendra led her to the guest lavatory, and whirled back to confront Jethro, only to see that Sam had already taken advantage of the opportunity.
“What’s going on here, Dad?” Sam asked his father. “What’s happened between you and Edwina? I thought she’d be here.”
“I guess you did. So, apparently, did Kendra. Edwina is in Florida with her parents. They’re getting old and her father isn’t well, so she wanted to spend Christmas with them. This could be his last one. There’s nothing between Andrea and me. She’s from Eugene, Oregon, and she’s here doing research on constitutional law at the Library of Congress.”
“What are you going to do with her when Edwina comes back?”
A grin spread over Jethro’s face. “Same thing as before Edwina left. Nothing.”
As they headed for the dining room, Sam whispered to Kendra, “Everything’s straight, and he isn’t cheating.” He could see relief flood Kendra’s being. Immediately, she became the sparkling, wonderful woman that he loved. He’d have to ask her about her reaction to seeing his father with Andrea. To his way of thinking, it had been extreme.
In spite of his few anxious moments at the beginning of the evening, Sam enjoyed the company and the wonderful Christmas dinner. When they finished dessert, he raised his glass. “Kendra, I have never enjoyed a Christmas dinner more. You’re a really good cook. Here’s to you.”