as if it were a bottle of perfume.
By the time he got home, the family car was gone from the driveway, so his father had left for the interview with Father Phelan. Harry might be getting the word already about his sneak of a son.
Thank God for Ralph and his parents. His father could hardly say much until tomorrow, and with a little skillful dodging Jim knew he could avoid him until the evening when he would get home from work. By that time the edge would be off his anger. Even old Harry couldn’t stay in a rage for two days, Jim thought. He’d be boiling at first though. Jim felt an involuntary tremble at the thought.
Mints were set out in the candy dishes in the living room, and nuts, and spice drops. The plastic cover was off the couch. Even the glass cover had been removed from the coffee table, something done only for events of the first magnitude.
Aunt Nora was talking in the kitchen about Arthur, and the gist of the story was that Arthur had finally returned. “He came in at the dawn,” said Nora, “And didn’t he come into the room to wake me. ‘Pee wee, where did you put the bottle? I’m awful dry.’ ‘The bottle’s down the sink,’ I told him. ‘And divil a bit more you’ll get, you dirty skunk.’ The stink of his breath was all over me. I don’t know what to do with him. God knows what will happen in the end.”
Florence was pale as she listened. Both the women were dressed for the occasion. Florence had on a blue dress with a decorative half-round white apron. She looked pretty. She was cutting hors d’oeuvres that she had made by rolling bread slices and soft cheese into a cylinder shape. Aunt Nora had on a dress of yards of flowered rayon stretched over the stays of her corset. Her hair was done, and the top of her head was massed with little brown-gray curls. The turkey in the oven made crackling noises, and gave off fragrant odors. Jim noticed Nora had her nails painted.
He put the jar of cranberries on the table, aware that Aunt Nora with her insatiable curiosity would investigate it. Florence immediately put the jar on top of the refrigerator, without comment. “What’s that?” asked Nora.
“Oh, just cranberries,” said Florence.
“Show it here.”
So Florence had to bring it over. Jim felt a malicious joy; the price was marked on the label. This would be good.
He watched Aunt Nora hold the jar out at arm’s length to read the label. “Honest to Jesus,” she cried. “Is that three dollars?”
Florence abandoned diplomacy; she snatched it out of Nora’s hand.
“Is that three dollars for a jar of cranberries?” Nora asked again.
“It’s a special kind,” Florence said. There was a snap of annoyance in her voice.
“Did I ever hear the like? Three dollars for cranberries that can be had in the A&P for twenty-nine cents!”
“You can’t buy this kind for twenty-nine cents.”
“I’m telling you, my dears,” said Nora. “This will be a dinner for the duke.”
“Cranberries set off a meal,” said Florence.
“Whatever you like, sweetheart,” cried Nora. “Whatever you like.”
Florence was clipping off the hors d’oeuvres with a vengeance.
“What time are they due?” asked Jim.
“Very soon,” said Florence. She glanced at the clock.
“You help your sister this afternoon,” said Aunt Nora to Jim. Then she gave him a series of instructions. He didn’t bother to answer, since the comments were being made for Florence’s benefit anyway. He took one of the round little sandwiches. It was good, especially with the olive at the center. He took another.
“Don’t eat too many,” said Florence.
“You don’t want to be filling up on that old crap,” Aunt Nora advised. “Wait for the good turkey. And why is your father having to go over to the school for you today?”
“One of the priests wants to see him.”
“Edward says you’re in trouble.”
Big-mouthed Cricket, Jim thought.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” said Jim. He got out of the kitchen before there were any more questions.
The dining-room table was set with gleaming china. The goblets with the gold rims were out. When these saw service, Jim was not told to help with the dishwashing. It was no penalty. The flowers were at the center. Even the tablecloth, a good Irish linen one, was set out so that it fell in perfect folds at the corners. The silver setting was the most elaborate he’d ever seen. There were three forks, two knives, two spoons and a butter knife at each place. Where, Jim wondered, would she get all the courses?
Florence came in from the kitchen and rolled her eyes up in an expressive gesture of annoyance at Aunt Nora. She formed the words with her lips to Jim: “I wish she’d go home.”
Nora followed her in. She looked over the table setting. “Isn’t it lovely? Sure any boy who looked at that table would know he was getting an uncommon girl.”
Florence worried about the seating arrangement. “It’s much too crowded,” she said. There were twelve places set: Harry, Florence herself, Jim; Ralph, his mother, father, and aunt; Aunt Nora, Arthur, Cricket, Harold. Uncle Arthur, of course, was a doubtful guest, but a place had to be left.
“Why don’t you get Harold to play the violin during the meal?” Jim suggested.
Nora brightened. “That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” she said.
“No,” said Florence decisively. “I have Mantovani dinner music.” She continued to ponder the seating arrangement, talking to herself. “Daddy goes at the end; then the first two places will be me on one side and Ralph’s mother at the other side; then Ralph next to me, then his father next to his mother.”
“Oh no,” said Nora. “You want Ralph sitting opposite you and not next to you. He can see your eyes then.”
“He should be sitting next to me, shouldn’t he?”
“Of course not,” said Nora, “Your eyes are like stars today. You want him to be looking into them.”
“Jim, shouldn’t he be sitting next to me?”
“Why don’t you put him at the end near the door,” Jim suggested. “Then if anyone wants any extra gravy or anything, he can run out and get it.”
“Be serious, will you!” cried Florence. She was near tears.
Nora was rearranging the place cards.
“Aunt Nora, would you please leave those alone!”
Nora looked up angrily. Florence saw the sudden flush in Nora’s face. She tried to tone down what she had said and to explain. “I thought it over for a long time before arranging them that way.”
“Suit yourself, girl. Suit yourself,” Nora said in a tone that showed she was seriously ruffled.
“Take it easy,” said Jim to Florence.
“They’ll be here any minute,” said Florence, “And my father’s not even here to welcome them. I might as well be an orphan.”
“Aw, come on.”
“Why don’t you lay down for a minute?” suggested Nora.
“How can I lay down when they’re coming!”
There was a noise at the back door.
“That’s them!” cried Florence.
“Are they coming in the back door?” asked Nora, startled.
“That’s not them,” said Jim.
It was Jill. “I brought a cheese