Sorority Sister (3 page)

Maxie was speechless. Jenna?

“Look, Maxie,” Brendan said into the silence. “I told you when you moved into that house, if sorority life is what you want, fine. Your choice. But I also said that I’m not sitting around doing crossword puzzles while you do your sisterhood thing. Jenna is my friend, too. And I know
she’s
not going to any tea this afternoon. Call you later, okay?” And he hung up.

“So?” Tinker asked as she brushed her silvery hair away from her face. “Is he steamed or what?”

“He’s steamed. And he says he’s going to ask Jenna to go canoeing instead of me.”

Tinker put down the brush. “Oh. Well, they’re just friends, Maxie. Wipe that I’ve-just-been-stabbed-in-the-back look off your face. It’s just a canoe ride. C’mon, I promised Erica we’d help put those little cucumber sandwiches together before the parental pack arrives.”

“I hate cucumbers,” Maxie groused. But she slipped into a pair of black flats and followed Tinker downstairs to the kitchen.

Where, as it turned out, they weren’t needed. Erica, nervous over the impending arrival of the moms, had summoned a caterer. White uniforms had taken over the kitchen.

Deciding there was no point in hanging around and getting in the way, Maxie grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry and wandered out into the backyard to sit on the low brick wall around the now-empty fountain.

Maxie had only been sitting there a few minutes when half a dozen other Omegas came outside, led by Cath Devon, Candie, and Erica.

“What a pretty yard!” Cath declared, glancing around admiringly. “Nothing like at Nightmare Hall, that’s for sure. There must be a gardener, right?”

Maxie nodded and made a face. “Tom Tuttle. Cranky old guy. I’d be perfectly happy to send him off to Nightmare Hall. Gives me the creeps. A couple of the girls have caught him looking in the windows. He always says he’s ‘washing’ them. We must have the cleanest windows in town.”

Several other girls joined them then, all dressed in skirts or dresses for the upcoming tea.

“Hey, Candie, guess who called a few minutes ago?” a girl named Chloe called as she approached the fountain.

“Who?”

“Your not-so-secret admirer, Graham Lucas.”

Candie groaned. Graham Lucas was a sophomore, not bad-looking, but far too needy and clinging for Candie’s tastes. Unfortunately, Candie was to
his
taste, and although she’d told him more than once that she already had a boyfriend, he’d been making a pest of himself lately, calling and sending notes and flowers to the house. Everyone in the house knew what a total pain he was to Candie.

“What did you tell him?” Candie asked as the girls took seats on the fountain wall.

Chloe laughed. “I told him you’d been kidnapped by aliens and hadn’t been seen for days.”

The others laughed, but Candie frowned. “He didn’t laugh,
did
he?”

Chloe’s smile disappeared. “No. He didn’t. He mumbled something nasty and hung up.”

“The guy was born without a sense of humor,” Candie said. And then, firmly, “And I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Too depressing. If he keeps it up, I’m going straight to security and complain. Now, about my mother, who is even as I speak on her way here … ”

She spent the next fifteen minutes telling them stories about her mother’s days at Omega house, ending with a warning. “That’s all she’s going to talk about, so you’ll just have to put up with it,” she said, adding anxiously, “Does my hair look okay? That’s the first thing she’ll notice.”

Although everyone assured her that her hair looked “just fine,” Candie sat there a few more minutes and then, too restless to sit still, went back inside to “do something about this hair.”

Half an hour later, Maxie went inside and was heading for the living room when the front door burst open and a tall, thin woman in a full-length fur coat, her bright red hair cut very short, cried, “Darlings! We’re here! Oh, it’s grand to be
home
! Now, where is my darling Candie?”

Definitely; Maxie thought, a woman who would name a baby “Candie Barr.”

Tinker came down the stairs just then. She and Maxie exchanged an amused glance. Although the hair was different, the face was definitely the same face that graced many photos hanging in the upstairs hall. This was Allison Barre, former president of Omega Phi Delta, and mother of Candie.

Following Allison Barre into the house were half a dozen other mothers, including Erica’s mother, Joan Bingham. Tall, like her daughter, but thinner, she had graying hair and walked with a slight limp.

As the other mothers filed in and greeted their daughters, Maxie ran upstairs to get Candie. “Your mom’s here,” she said in the open doorway to Candie’s room.

Candie turned away from the mirror. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright. “I know. I heard her. Who didn’t? I’m surprised Jenna didn’t call you from Lester and say, ‘So, Candie’s mom arrived okay.’ ”

Maxie laughed. “She’s a powerhouse, all right. You’d better get downstairs.”

“I can’t do a thing with my hair,” Candie wailed. “She’ll hate it, I know she will! She’ll insist on sending Tia Maria to see me. That’s her hairdresser. Tia Maria!” Candie made a face. “The woman’s real name is Gert Tolan. I guess she didn’t think that was fancy enough for a beautician with a high-priced clientele.” She looked into the mirror and wailed again. “My mother’s going to
hate
my hair!”

“No, she’s not. It looks great.” Maxie grinned. “Wait till you see hers.”

Relaxing a little, Candie returned the grin. “What color is it this time?”

“Red. Very, very red.”

“Interesting.” As they left the room, Candie said urgently, “Listen, don’t say anything to my mom about Erica’s jewelry box, okay? I’m not sure how she’d react, but I promise you it wouldn’t be good. To hear her tell it, nothing bad ever happened when
she
was here. Every moment was a golden one, every day a joy, every night an adventure.” Candie sighed. “I don’t think she’s ever been as happy as she was then.” Then she grinned again. “Me, I’m still waiting for the adventurous nights.”

“Darling!” her mother shrieked as Candie reached the foot of the stairs, with Maxie right behind her. “What have you done with your hair? It’s much too long, sweetie.” She whirled in front of Candie. “How do you like mine? Isn’t it smashing? Two hundred dollars, and worth every penny of it, don’t you think? Listen, I can have Tia Maria call you if you’d like. I’m sure she could make a side trip over here and do yours. Just tip her heavily, darling.” Her words came out at machine-gun speed, as if she had no need to take a breath.

Tinker joined Maxie at the foot of the stairs as Allison Barre took her daughter’s hand and, still raving about the miracles worked by her hairdresser, led her away. “I can’t believe she’s anybody’s mother,” Tinker whispered to Maxie. “Except for the hair, they look like sisters, don’t they? But Allison is so …so ….”

“So.
Period,” Maxie agreed. “Can you imagine growing up with that? No milk and cookies there, I’ll bet. Caviar and Perrier, probably. No wonder Mrs. Barre is divorced. What man could live with her?”

Erica suggested they all gather in the living room to “become acquainted” before eating.

Maxie sat with Tinker and her mother, watching the other mothers and wondering, Is this what we’re going to be like twenty years from now? Like Candie’s mother, vibrant and overpowering? Or like Erica’s mother, also a past president? Tall and slim and smartly dressed, Joan Bingham seemed to have nothing good to say about anything. Erica flushed repeatedly as her mother criticized the color of the wall paint, the upholstery on the furniture, and Erica’s clothes and hair.

Maxie felt sorrier for Erica than she did for Candie. Candie’s mother might be hard to live up to, but at least she seemed like fun. Joan Bingham was no day at the beach.

It was a relief when Erica suggested a walk on the grounds.

When they had all gone outside, Maxie, who found herself suddenly missing her own mother, went into the kitchen to see if Mildred needed any help.

The kitchen was empty. Dishes, silverware, and napkins had been set out on the counter, ready to be taken into the dining room, but Mildred was nowhere to be seen.

Deciding to get a Coke and join the others outside, Maxie yanked open the door of the huge white refrigerator.

And was greeted by an overpowering stench that took her breath away.

Gasping, she stared at the white shelves in front of her.

Instead of the plastic-covered trays of prepared food she had been expecting to see, every shelf was filled to overflowing with rotting fruits and vegetables, broken eggshells, wet coffee grounds, crumpled plastic bags and soda bottles, and the bony carcasses of several large chickens or turkeys.

Maxie’s mouth dropped open. “Uh ….” was all she could manage. The putrid smell made her eyes water, but her arm felt frozen in place, preventing her from slamming the refrigerator shut upon the foul mess.

Someone had replaced their perfectly arranged, plastic-covered party trays with a mountain of foul-smelling garbage.

M
AXIE STARED IN HORROR
at the disgusting mess overflowing on the refrigerator shelves. When, one hand pinching her nostrils closed against the smell, she leaned closer, she saw no sign of the neatly wrapped trays for the tea. They had disappeared.

She sagged against the refrigerator door.

“Maxie, close that door! You’re wasting electricity,” Erica’s voice said from behind Maxie’s shoulder.

Maxie turned to stare at her with sickened eyes.

“Maxie? What’s wrong?”

Maxie moved aside to let Erica see.

When the full effect of the sight and smell had hit her, Erica’s hand flew up to cover her mouth and nose. “Oh, no,” she breathed. “Our tea …” and then, her face draining of color, “oh, God, if my mother sees this … !”

But she recovered quickly. Turning, she ran to the phone to summon the caterer back to the house. “Keep everyone out of the kitchen,” she whispered frantically to Maxie as she dialed. “Don’t let
anyone
in, especially my mother. Make a speech, do a song-and-dance routine, stand on your head, I don’t care what you do, but
keep
them out of this room!”

Still stunned and shaken, Maxie returned to the living room, where everyone had just returned from their walk. Joan Bingham, Erica’s mother, sat alone in a corner, complaining loudly about being “famished” and asking repeatedly where her daughter was. Candie’s mother sat in the center of the room. The subject of her humorous stories had switched from her hairdresser to her own past, some twenty-two years ago, at Omega house.

I’ll bet, Maxie thought numbly as she joined the group, she’s
not
going to say that back then things were stolen out of the rooms, or that one day they found the refrigerator shelves piled high with smelly garbage.

How had that happened? Why would someone
do
something so ugly?
When
had they done it? Had to have been after the caterer’s staff left. The kitchen would have been deserted, at least for a little while.

Maxie glanced around the room, wondering why no one saw in her face that she was upset. Was she that good an actress? Or was it just that everyone was raptly listening to Allison Barre, who spoke of sorority life with great affection and enthusiasm.

“It was perfect,” Allison said wistfully, “absolutely perfect. The four happiest years of my life.” Then she remembered Candie and added hastily, “Until my darling daughter here came along, of course.” Candie flushed as her mother patted her hand. “And now she’s getting
her
chance to have the most wonderful time of her life. And you know, it doesn’t end when you leave school. Your sisterhood goes on forever. Sorority activities still keep me very, very busy. These lovely girls, Candie,” glancing around the room approvingly, “will be a part of your life even when you’re old and gray, right, Joan?”

Erica’s mother drew her lips together in a thin, straight line. “Doesn’t look to me like
you
ever intend to
be
gray, Allie. All I know is when
we
were here,” Mrs. Bingham added disapprovingly, “tea was served on
time.”

“Oh, Joan, lighten up! Have a cracker or something.” Dismissing Joan Bingham, Allison began a new story about a dance held at the house when she was president.

Maxie wasn’t listening. She was watching out the living room window for the caterer’s truck.

Tinker came over and sat on the floor beside Maxie’s chair. “You okay?” she asked. “You look like you just witnessed an autopsy.” Tinker was premed.

So, I’m
not
that great an actress, was Maxie’s reaction. No wonder I wasn’t in drama in high school like just about everybody else in this room. She was suddenly very grateful to Allison Barre. If the woman hadn’t had everyone so enthralled, they’d all be asking Maxie what was wrong. And what would she say?

“Tell you later,” she answered briefly, and saw the caterer’s truck pull into the driveway. Had Erica had time to remove the disgusting mess in the frig? She’ll have to give the caterer some reason for all that work being useless, Maxie thought. Would she tell the truth?

But she knew even as she thought it that Erica wouldn’t. She’d invent some story for the disaster, knowing that the caterer served other sorority houses as well as their own, and that people were more likely to pass on bad news than good. Omega Phi’s president wouldn’t be willing to take that chance.

Maxie hurried into the kitchen.

The small catering staff was already bustling about in the kitchen, dour looks on their faces. A large black plastic bag, bulging at the seams and pinched at the neck by a twist-tie, leaned against the back door. Erica must have done a thorough job, Maxie thought as she offered to help.

A tall, thin woman in white nodded. “You can take those plates in,” she said, and muttered something under her breath.

As Maxie picked up the plates, she murmured to Erica, who was gathering a handful of silverware, “If she’d brought the whole staff back, it would go faster.”

“She did bring the whole staff back,” Erica whispered. “That’s what she’s complaining about. She has to pay them all double time.” She sighed. “So, of course, we’re going to have to pay
her
twice, too. After all, that mess in the frig wasn’t
her
fault.”