“Kill an animal? Good heavens, child, what are you saying?”
“Mommy says bad people kill little animals to make coats.”
Mrs. Van Peebles fanned herself with her hanky, her face draining of color except for the rouge on her cheeks. Barbara quickly helped her off with her fur. “I’ll hang this up for you, Mrs. Van Peebles. It’s an exquisite coat. Just lovely!”
Doug came striding into the foyer and greeted their guests, while Barbara hung up the coat and then steered Janee back into the living room. Doug followed with the Van Peebles and made introductions all around.
“I’ll go put on extra plates,” said Barbara, fighting a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. The night was already a disaster, and several awkward, tension-filled hours still lay ahead. “Doug, would you pour the sparkling cider?”
“Can I help, Barb?” asked Nancy. “I make a great soy-based salad dressing. Or if there’s anything else I can do…”
“No, thanks, Nan. Everything’s ready. Everyone, please come to the dining room. We’ll be eating in a jiffy,” Barbara replied politely.
Barbara invited the Van Peebles to sit on one side of the linen-draped table, and Nancy, Paul, and Janee to sit on the other side. She and Doug sat at opposite ends.
“Wow, you really went all out,” Nancy marveled, gazing around. “Your best silver, china and crystal. The table looks gorgeous.”
“It certainly does,” Mrs. Van Peebles told Barbara. “You have a real knack for entertaining, dear.”
“Thank you, Harriet.” Barbara looked at Doug. “Would you light the candelabra, darling, and ask the blessing on the food?”
Doug’s prayer was short and perfunctory, not like the heartfelt prayers he used to offer when his faith and Barbara’s was still alive and meaningful. He was going through the motions just as she was; it was the pattern of their lives these days.
“I’ll get the salad while you eat your shrimp cocktails,” Barbara said, scooting back her chair.
“I don’t like ‘schimps,’” said Janee, wrinkling her nose. Gingerly she held up a plump, pink shrimp between two fingers, as if it might bite. “They look ugly. Like big, fat worms.”
“I’ll bring you some fruit jelly,” said Barbara, whisking Janee’s shrimp cocktail away. She returned moments later with the jelly, a tossed salad and a basket of hot rolls.
Just as Mrs. Van Peebles placed a forkful of lettuce between her lips, she sneezed. “Excuse me,” she said, then promptly sneezed again. Her husband handed her his handkerchief. “Thank you, dear,” she murmured. “Goodness, it must be my allergies acting up.”
Barbara glanced around surreptitiously. Where was Tabby? Surely not close enough to make Mrs. Van Peebles sneeze! But just then, Barbara felt the cat’s smooth fur rub against her leg and heard the familiar purr. Pretending to reach for her fallen napkin, Barbara nudged the cat away, then stood up abruptly and said, “I’ll get the roast.”
She hoped Tabby would follow her into the kitchen, but the cat had already disappeared again. Barbara returned to the dining room with a steaming rib roast, browned potatoes, and a bowl of freshly shelled peas. “Eat well, everyone. There’s plenty.”
“This is a wonderful dinner,” said Clive, helping himself to a generous portion of the roast. “Isn’t it delicious, Harriet?”
She took a slice of beef and sniffed loudly. “Yes, I just wish I could taste something.”
“I don’t want any,” said Janee, as Barbara passed the roast around the table. “Mama says we don’t eat meat. She says we’re veter…um, veterinarians.”
“Vegetarians,” corrected Nancy. “But that’s okay, honey. Some folks do eat meat.”
“If you don’t want any roast beef, maybe you’d like some peas, Janee,” said Barbara, forcing her tone to remain pleasant.
“She loves peas,” said Nancy.
“Do not,” said Janee.
Barbara gave the child a heaping spoonful of peas.
“Barb, are you still giving piano lessons here in your home?” asked Nancy.
“Yes, Nan. I have a dozen students.”
“That’s marvelous. Do they perform anywhere?”
“They give a recital at the school twice a year. It’s quite an event.”
“And are you still playing piano for the church?”
Barbara drew a sharp breath. “No, I gave that up quite a while ago.”
There was a sudden lull in the conversation. Barbara’s mouth went dry. Was everyone waiting for her to explain why she would give up playing the piano when she loved it so much?
“So, Mr. Myers, what kind of work do you do?” asked Clive, breaking the silence.
“Whatever I can get,” said Paul between mouthfuls of roast beef. “I design computer software programs. Games mainly. For kids. Ever hear of Appalachian Ape Antics? Or The Elephant and the Eggplant? Or The Owl and the Octopus?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Not my best work,” conceded Paul.
“Janee loves your games, Paul,” said Nancy, patting his arm. “Don’t you, Janee?”
Janee didn’t answer. She was carefully lining her peas up in her spoon.
Doug turned to Clive. “Speaking of kids and games, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the hospital’s plans to complete the new children’s wing.”
“Oh, yes, the children’s wing. How’s that going?”
“Great, Clive—if we can just get the funds to finish the job.”
With a triumphant little smile, Janee piled the last of her peas in her spoon. Slowly she lifted the spoon to her mouth, where it remained poised unsteadily in the air for a moment.
“Eat your peas, darling,” urged Nancy.
“Don’t like peas.”
“Janee, your mother said to eat your peas,” said Paul.
“No!” With a twist of her wrist Janee flicked the spoon away from her mouth, catapulting the peas across the table. Two landed unceremoniously in Mrs. Van Peebles’s cleavage. Dead silence reigned as all eyes focused on the two small green peas nestled in the matron’s ample bosom.
Harriet stared down in horror at her embarrassing dilemma. “Merciful heavens!” she murmured under her breath.
Her husband leaned over and made a gesture as if to retrieve the peas, then apparently thought better of the idea. At last Harriet carefully plucked the peas from her bodice and placed them on her plate. “I think I’ve had quite enough peas,” she said faintly.
“I’m so sorry, Harriet,” said Barbara, her face flushing.
“It was just an accident,” said Nancy. “Wasn’t it, Janee? You didn’t mean to hit the nice lady with your peas, did you?”
Janee’s lower lip trembled, but before a geyser of tears erupted, Mrs. Van Peebles again broke into a sneezing frenzy.
“Barbara, dear, are—are you sure you don’t have cats?” Harriet stammered between sneezes.
“I’m afraid we do,” Barbara admitted. “Tabby was outside, but somehow she got inside. I’m so sorry.”
Mrs. Van Peebles looked at her husband with red, watery eyes. “Maybe we’d better go, Clive.”
Doug shoved back his chair and stood up. “Please, don’t go, Harriet. We’ll