s39-- Dinner/Party

"Don't need anymore polishing--You look ready to go, son," Jed said around the kitchen door.

Gene gave himself a critical look in the mirror that hung over the wash basin. He gave his hair one more swipe with the comb. "I guess this is as good as I get. I shouldn't be too awful late," he dropped the comb back into the comb and brush holder that hung on the wall beside the sink. "Are you three ready?" the sunlight barely slanted through the kitchen window as he walked into the dining room.

"You are going over to Bessie's brother's, right? Say now..." Gene closed one eye and squinted at Jed. "you don't look too bad yourself, Uncle. I'd say Aunt did a job on your evening clothes as well."

Jed straightening up stood taller in the afternoon light. He had a certain easy air about him that made his tailored black suit fashionable enough to pass as evening clothes.

"Yes, we'll only be three blocks away...or --Agnes?" he blinked. "Agnes! You look...terrific! You've out done yourself!"

"Thank you..." Agnes smiled as color tinted her cheeks at the sudden notice. The deep rose colored silk dress with elbow length puff sleeves and a tulip style skirt that flowed to just above the ankles accentuated her still slender figure. Her long tawny hair was rolled just forward from ear to ear and around the back of her head, while a matching deep rose and black striped turban set off her fine facial features. Nissa's deep rose colored dress was sewn in a matching style, but with white lace trim and a white and rose colored bonnet.

"It's three-- you walk up north half a block then back east two blocks and then on north again half a block. And yes," she pushed the jeweled hat pin into her turban and firmly anchored it in place, "we're ready to go."

"Nissa, don't get messy now, honey," she bent to straighten the lace on Nissa's pink silk dress and twitch the collar into place.

"I would say you don't need to look any better...why the folks at the dinner party will be so dazzled by your presence the way it is!" Agnes brushed an imaginary object from Gene's coat as she examined his evening clothes, then his appearance from well combed hair to his black patent leather dress shoes.

"How fortunate that you spent last summer with Alistair in Europe. I poured over the fashion magazines trying to be up on the newest styles when I adjusted your evening clothes. I'd say you'll do...," she picked up her handbag and lace gloves. "No, Nissa, don't get Gene messy either. Just walk with me. Brother's going to a party and he wants to look nice, honey."

Gene winked, smiled and made a google-eyed face at Nissa. She giggled and began to skip and lisp, "Party. Party. Party." as Agnes took her small hand and they walked to the automobile.

Gene did not remember much about the drive into town. The weather was dry--but not exceedingly so--and nothing could ever be as hot as the summer's weather of 1936. The wind blew and blew, but at least it blew the dry, dusty road dirt away from them. Soon they were pulling up in front of the Dorking residence.

"You did remember your gifts?" Agnes worried out loud.

"Yes, Aunt. I have a box of hand dipped chocolates for the hostess, and a small nosegay for Angela..." he held up his wrapped boxes.

"Oh, good!" she exhaled.

"Don't worry, Aunt, it can't be much worse than meeting the Queen," he grinned at her.

"You never told me you met the Queen!" she turned to look at him in astonishment.

"I didn't--just several people close to her. And the Dorkings don't really size up to them at all. I'll see you all later, and you have fun."

"Oh! I never! ...you have a good time too. Jed, I just don't know about that boy!" she laughed as the door chunked shut.

Jed smirked into the rear view mirror then watched as Gene strode up the steps and shut the gate behind him at the top of the walk. "He seems to have his head on pretty straight to me, Agnes. For someone his age especial.... You and I've seen things and we still get amazed at goings on, but he just takes things in stride, you know."

"He looked so handsome in his evening attire. I didn't want to say too much. How did Grandma Wade's saying go? Something about Praise to..."

"Praise to the face, brings open disgrace," Jed finished for her. "I know--I didn't either, because of that very thing...too many folks that think too highly of themselves. There's another Grandma Wade saying--beauty is as beauty does; but ugly goes all the way to the bone..."

"Yes, old adages, but good ones."
**************************************

Gene waited patiently in the impressive foyer while he was announced. This wasn't the first time he had been in the Dorking's home, but it was the first time he had been an invited guest. A large pastoral painting hung in the entrance, and a heavy wooden table held a vase of summer flowers in soft colors accentuated with an occasional vivid blue, or red. Gene peered at his reflection in the well polished sheen of the wood work.

"This way, if you please," the butler indicated the correct room to him.

"Thank you," Gene said.

"So glad you could come," Mrs. Dorking gave him the standard greeting.

"Mrs. Dorking..." he handed her the chocolates with a slight flourish.

"Thank you..." she said and unwrapped the gift. "These are my favorite..."

"And these are for Angela," he handed the young lady her boxed flowers.

"Oh, Gene! How thoughtful!" Angela took the nosegay from its box. "These are so beautiful!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dorking, the only gift I have for you is my pleasant personality," he smiled at his former coach and shook his hand. It was only a year since the Dorkings had moved to the area, but Gene thought Mr. Dorking had aged five years in his appearance. The gray in his dark brown hair gave him a more distinguished look, but the worry lines on his face just made him look older.

"You've made Mrs. Dorking--as well as Angela--happy, and that's worthy of note," he said cordially.

"I say! Is that you Master Gene?" a familiar voice spoke heartily from close behind him.

"What...?! he turned quickly. "Sir Hughes...I didn't know you were in the area!" Gene bowed slightly, "And how long have you been back, sir?"

"We have only been in for a few days. I came in Saturday, and Monsieur Bouchette followed me in on Sunday."

"David mentioned that Le Comte Bouchette was to be arriving for a visit, but I had not understood that you were to come as well."

"Bonsoir, Master Wade," Philip Bouchette grasped Gene's hand in a hearty handshake. "Bonsoir, bonsoir!" he repeated. "You are acquainted with the Monsieur and Madame Dorking, oui?"

"Monsieur was one of my teachers at high school, and the mademoiselle was a school mate," Gene nodded in Angela's direction.

"Ah--a very pleasant mademoiselle...do you not think?" Philip said with a slight lift of the voice as well as an eyebrow.

"Yes, she's very pleasant...a good friend," Gene agreed hoping to head off any more speculation.

"La Mademoiselle has a good eye for her friends then," the count smiled and nodded. "You are looking well also, my young friend. What do you think, Monsieur Hughes?" he nodded in approval.

"Quite dapper, I'd say...Quite dapper indeed," Sir Hughes agreed.

"David Pickerell is hoping that we can have some time while you are here. I have been practicing on some of the arts you introduced me to last year. David and I have some questions --Monsieur Bouchette--Sir Hughes," Gene interrupted himself. "I would like to introduce an acquaintance of mine. Monsieur Le Comte Bouchette, and Lord Hughes, my friend, Edgar Deering. Edgar--Le Comte Bouchette and Lord Hughes."

"Good evening," Edgar made a slight bow to the pair of gentlemen.

"Bonsoir," Philip answered in return.

"Good evening," Sir Hughes echoed.

"Angela prevailed on your good nature also, I see," Gene grinned at Edgar.

"Oh boy!" he stopped embarrassed. "Pardon me, your graces, but do I ever feel like the only fish at a cat supper! Yes, Angela looked so...so..."

"Friendless? So forlorn?" Gene supplied.

"Yes, and now, here I am. Thank God you're here, Gene," Edgar felt like he was drowning in perspiration.

"Oui! Belle demoiselles!" Philip said with a sigh and a slight laugh.

"How have you become acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Dorking, Sir...if I may ask?"

"You may ask, Master Wade, but we have not at this moment enough time...to answer," Sir Hughes said. "We will have to wait for a convenient season to speak. They are about to announce for the meal."
******************************

"The flower arrangements are very artful. Don't you think?" Edgar made conversation with his dinner partner, Jessica Crest.

"Yes, I suppose so," she replied with a doubtful glance at the flowers.

"And have you had an enjoyable summer?" Gene asked Eileen Cantor, his partner.

"Yes, we spent several weeks vacationing at the shore," Eileen was accustomed to society--more so than Jessica. "And yourself?"

"We have had a busy summer, but we aren't vacationing this year. Maybe next summer. Do you go to the beach every year, then?"

"Most every year. Mother has an Aunt that resides in the area. We go and visit her, then rent a cabin."

Gene observed the menagerie of eighteen guests. There were the few of his acquaintances from his school days, and two older couples he knew from around town. Sir Hughes had brought his sister, Nellie, but Gene did not know Philip Bouchette's Lady Jane. Then there was a smart looking older couple that Gene surmised must be the parents of the young man Angela was seated with. A young man possibly twenty years old, light brown hair, quiet and well mannered...and well polished.

How odd, each pair seemed to be a quiet conversation to themselves, almost whispering to each other.

"Do you ever think that we take ourselves a trifle too seriously?" Gene asked Eileen with a sideways glance.

"Too seriously? Whatever do you mean?"

"We are sitting around an impressive table. Everyone in fine apparel. Eating sumptuous food. And whispering about the weather."

"We weren't talking about the weather--"

"Well, not exactly the weather, but just--chit chat, you know. Nothing important."

"That's what we're supposed to be talking about..." she puzzled.

"Now, when the men go off by themselves they break out the brandy and cigars, you know, and talk about important stuff. I don't know what the ladies talk about, but here we just talk about the--weather."

"Oh, I see...and what should we be talking about?"

"What would come to your mind? What are you interested in?"

"I'm crazy to go to the World's Fair in Paris," animation lit her face. I've never been to Paris...only the shore," she sighed, the light faded out of her features.

"We were in Paris last year...but had to cut it short to make it home for the trial. Did you hear about Picasso's painting?" he asked.

"No, I hadn't heard anything about it..." her features revived.

"It isn't something we talk about in polite society, because it may offend the ladies."

"Gene Wade! You are so aggravating! I'm thinking Greg Bilker is right, you are a coward!"

"I can handle you," he said smoothly even though anger flushed his face.

"So what does that prove, I'm a girl?"

"If I can handle you, I can handle him."

"But I'm a girl...oh," she drug out the last word. "You are comparing Greg to a girl? But he did a job last week on Lonnie Smith...Lonnie was in the hospital you know."

"Yes, I know, but Greg doesn't fight fair. He had his 'boys' with him. Four, or five guys against one person isn't really fair, now is it?"

"Hmmm!" Angela cleared her throat and flashed him a look.

"Eileen?" he wondered had their voices gotten too loud?

"Yes?" she whispered demurely.

"My apologies," he smiled.

"That is why we're supposed to talk about the weather," she smiled back.

"I know, but just think how interesting it could get," he smiled and bent his head back over his soup.

"Have you been traveling much, Sir Hughes?" William Dorking asked.

"Just the usual amount. My sister, Nellie, and I were in Paris at the World's fair for several weeks. Le Comte met up with us one fine afternoon..."

"The world's fair has been in the paper lately. What was your impression of it," Mr. Dorking said.

"Very interesting. It's very interesting," Sir Hughes was non-committal.

"I've heard several things said about it. Some very interesting things...will you be in this area for long?"

"Only a few weeks. I usually try to get back to my park twice a year. This year has been very trying...very difficult to get away from London. Oh--Master Gene," he leaned slightly in Gene's direction. "I bring greetings from your Aunt Louise. We were at the Palace together one evening at an engagement...she indicated that her mother and she were so pleased to have met you last year. Mrs. La Font will be home in a few weeks and was thinking of extending an invitation to your Aunt and Uncle."

"Uncle Jed was ill last winter...he is doing better, but I'm sure the vacation would be good for him."

"Your Aunt Agnes? And little sister? How are they?"

"They are doing well, thank you," Gene replied.
*******************************

"I would like you to meet an old friend of the family," Angela introduced her dinner partner to her young guests. "This is Walter Henrey. He and his family have known my family for as long as I can remember. Walter, these are some of my new acquaintances, Eileen Cantor, Jessica Crest, Edgar Deering, and Gene Wade."

"Harvey," Angela called the butler, "would you bring us the domino game, please?"

"I guess we don't get the brandy and cigars," Eileen snickered.

"Brandy and cigars! I should hope not!" Angela was shocked.

"I'm sorry, that was my fault," Gene explained. "That is what the men do in Europe. The ladies go off and discuss things in their group, but the men go off and break out the brandy and cigars, and discuss things like politics, and what is going on in the House of Lords, or Parliament, or whatever."

"And we will be playing dominoes...however, that's alright. They make the policies, and we play the games," Walter said in an even voice.

"Have you been to Europe, then?" Gene asked. There was a steady presence, a sort of dignity in the young man, and Gene liked that.

"Yes, I have," Walter answered as they set out the tiles. "I have a brother and sister overseas, and we go once a year to visit."

"Did you attend the Olympics last year?"

"Yes, father enjoys sports. I'm not into sports myself, but do find an occasional interest."

"I would so love to go to Paris," Eileen sighed. "What about you Angelina--I mean Angela. Would you like to go to Paris?"

"I think I've been to Paris, but I don't remember it. It was when I was quite small." Angela frowned at the tiles she had in front of her. "Whose turn is it?"

"I believe it's mine," Walter put out his tile.

"Your brother and sister must be quite a bit older than you are. I don't remember either of them," Angela found a place for her tile.

"I'd just as soon stay here in the good old U S of A," Edgar said.

"I'm going to have to go home in a few minutes," Jessica pouted.

"It's still daylight outside. Almost too early to go home," Gene flashed her a smile.

"I know, but my family will be picking me up soon."

"Make the best of the time you have, Jessi," Edgar encouraged. "That's a good play there."

"Thank you, Edgar," she smiled at him. The tension in her face relaxed. At Edgar's praise Jessica gained a measure of self confidence, and color transformed her drab everyday appearance into loveliness.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Jessica put her last tile out. "I won!" she exclaimed. The game went smoothly with small talk here and there.

"Good job, Jessica," Angela smiled. "--Yes? Harvey?" the library door opened.
"Miss Crest's car is waiting, Miss Angela."

"Don't forget now, Jessi," Edgar leaned over and whispered to her, "thank your host and hostess for a lovely evening on your way out."

"Thank you, Edgar. I get so flustered. I just forget everything."

"I know how it is. I remember my first dinner like this."

"Thank you so much for inviting me, Angela. I've had a good time. If we'd had time I'm sure you would have won the next game..." she leaned over and gave Angela a hug.

"Jessica's really a nice girl," Angela spoke to the group as they watched her exit. "I don't think she gets a fair deal at school."

"I always thought she was an empty headed nincompoop. No one else at school really likes her, but her father does have lots of money," Eileen's eyes held an unusual scheming look. "Maybe she's not so bad."

"I'd like a little fresh air...perhaps we could take a walk in the garden?" Angela suggested.

"I don't like fresh air that much..." Eileen began.

"I wouldn't mind a little stretching after our meal," Walter agreed.

"We'll be there in a minute," he called as Angela led Walter and Eileen to the exit. "Ed, come here," Gene guided Edgar over to stand at the bay window as if looking out at the street. just about dusk with an occasional pedestrian walking down the street.

"Quiet out tonight. The street lights will be coming on in a short time."

"Yes--but what is it. What did you want?"

"Ed--Eileen's pretty thick with Greg Bilker and some of his friends. Jessica is a nice person, but she's naive. Maybe you could be a little watchful for her...not too much, maybe but you know?"

"If you knew Eileen was close with Greg, why did you say..."

Gene shrugged, "Well, it's the truth. On both accounts. Greg is a capable fighter, but he doesn't fight fair...especially if he knows he won't win. Just keep an eye on things, okay?"

"Sure, Gene. I can do that..."

"Let's go join the group," Gene led the way to the garden entrance.

"Paris is just so romantic," Eileen said.

"Romance is elusive," Walter replied. "It isn't really any more romantic in Paris, than here in Littleton."

"It has to be," Eileen wrinkled her nose. "Littleton is so dull. Most of the time at least."

"I don't know if I would call it dull, exactly," Angela said.

"Of course it isn't dull for you, Angela. Look at all the people you have coming and going in your world. But we never have company, especially not interesting company," she gave Walter a coquettish smile.

"Don't you think the warmth of the summer evening brings out the fragrance of the flowers?" Gene winked at Angela.

"Yes, I do, and I think it is a little warm this evening," she grinned at him. "Eileen, is that your ride I hear?" she asked as a horn sounded -ahooga!

Eileen's face flushed deep red--"I think it's probably just some dumb bell..."

"I'd say it's some dumb bell..." Gene muttered under his breath. "Are you staying at the hotel?" he asked Walter.

"No, we are staying here at Angela's home. We'll be here another week, I believe."

"Perhaps when we entertain Sir Hughes and Monsieur Bouchette you would like to join us?" Gene suggested. "What are your interests, if not sports?"

"I do play chess--rather well. I enjoy playing sports, but I'm not much at watching."

"Are you sure that isn't your ride, Eileen?" Angela repeated when the hateful Aa--ooga, sounded again.

"I'm sure it isn't...but I think I should telephone home to see if my car has been sent," Eileen stood up from the stone bench she was perched on. "Thank you for the invitation, Angela. So good to meet you, Walter, and good night Edgar and Gene."

"I do believe Eileen is irritated at someone," Angela laughed as the door closed.

"With good reason. Greg Bilker is a...no one likes him except those who like his money, or what it can buy," Edgar chimed in.

"Gene why were you saying those things about Greg?" Angela's face wore a pained expression. "You know Eileen will repeat everything you said, and that's just asking for trouble!"

"Angela, I have a plan...I know it could be a costly mistake--look what he did to Lonnie," Gene shook his head.

"I'm concerned about you," Angela bit her lip, looking down at her handkerchief laying in her lap.

"Thank you.

"Who is this guy you are talking about?" Walter asked.

"He's no good," Edgar spoke up. "And he's usually up to no good!

"He drives the car with the horn. He and his cronies have been out on our country road lately," Gene said.

"Oh--that's not good," Angela looked up startled.

"A few weeks ago some local fellows were having a horse race...informal, you know, just boys racing their ponies. That cursed automobile came along and caused Albert Bluey--one of the guys racing--caused his filly to bolt. Dumped him, he ended up going to the doctor with a cracked rib."

"I hadn't heard about that," Edgar's face grew pale.

"You wouldn't. News from out in the country usually stays there unless it's really big. Albert's pa went to the sheriff and complained. Seems like 'the citified slicks' as Mr. Bluey calls them, have been tormenting more than one farmer and their livestock. Mr. Bluey lodged a complaint...tried to press charges, but they can't get him on anything I guess."

"What do you think he's after...? Walter puzzled over the information.

"I just think he likes to push other people around," Edgar said. "I'm no threat to him, but I still stay clear."

"Back when I was on the football team...a year ago now...I did some driving for Mr. Dorking. Greg, was resentful. I told him to buzz off and get lost. Lonnie had words with him as well. We're both on his favorite list."

"What are you young folks looking so glum about?" Mr. Henrey came around the Camellia bed. He stood looking amused at the group, tapping his walking cane occasionally on the red brick path.

"Just a local hooligan, Father."

"Never seems to be a shortage of them in the world, is there?" his smile was tired and resigned. "But what do you say," the older man brightened out of his reverie, "we're thinking of going up town to the hotel restaurant for some French coffee and we could catch the entertainment as well."

"Entertainment? How gay!" Angela brightened. "How about you Gene...and Edgar?"

"I may be needed..." Edgar hedged.

"And I would need to telephone my family first. They are over at Bessie's brother's," Gene told Angela.

"You do your telephoning, and we'll make further arrangements," Mr. Henrey continued walking toward the house door.

"I need to run up to my room and get my wrap..."

"And I need to visit my room as well, for my hat and other accessories," Walter and Angela excused themselves.

"Hello," Gene spoke to the operator, "Mr. Lewiston, please...yes, that's the correct number..."

"I didn't plan on..."

"Edgar, don't worry about money," Gene covered the mouth piece on the phone. "I'll get it. Yes--Jim, this is Gene, is Uncle Jed there?"

"We have several taxis commandeered," Mr. Henrey came into the foyer. "You young people can ride together, and we'll meet up town at the Littleton Hotel."

"I don't know how I'll ever be able to go back to the shop tomorrow," Edgar grinned at Gene as they entered the fancy hotel dining room.

"Same way I'll get up tomorrow put on my bibs, and go back to plowing...actually I'll be working on the last cutting of hay for this year."

Gene inspected the hotel dining room as the group waited. The extravagant white table cloths, the fancy silver ware and white china table settings--No, there was not much change in the few years since Gene had left employment at the hotel. Everything was sparkling and elegant.

"Mr. Wappleburg--how have you been?" he spoke to his former manager.

"I am doing well. Thank you for asking," Mr. Wappleburg enjoyed the notoriety of being around rich and elegant people. "And you are looking well. I trust your fortunes are improving?" he observed Gene and his associates.

"They are doing as good as can be expected, thank you. My family will be joining me shortly as well..." Gene thought how good it was to say, 'my family'. He sat back watching the people around him. It was a carefree moment as the group ordered coffee and some ordered desserts with laughter and easy natured conversation.

Jed, Agnes, and Nissa stood, framed in the doorway waiting to be escorted to a table.

"This should be a special treat. I'm tickled that you invited us," Jed leaned over and whispered to Gene after he had seated Agnes and Nissa.

Lord Hughes and Monsieur Bouchette talked quietly while Lady Jane and Nellie exchanged pleasantries. Mr. and Mrs. Dorking did not look at ease as they sat on the other side of the table beside Mr. and Mrs. Henrey.

It was an odd twist of fate that Sir Hughes and Monsieur Bouchette were the least conscious of rank and title. They moved freely from one situation to another with confidence and grace. Mr. and Mrs. Henrey had a genteel way of manner as well, but there was a difference...Gene supposed it was the American influence.

Lord Hughes motioned to the waiter and whispered to him briefly.

The waiter approached Jed's table, "The gentleman at that table requests for you join their party, if it is convenient."

"Why...certainly--do you mind?" Jed looked across the table at Agnes.

"It would be a pleasure, I'm sure," Agnes smiled serenely. "Come, Nissa," she said. Picking up her hand bag, she took Nissa's hand and they followed Jed to their new seats as if it were an everyday occurrence to sit and chat with aristocrats.

"This coffee is very strong," Angela frowned at the mixture in her cup. "I don't usually drink coffee...so, what do you think?" she held up her cup and showed Walter then Gene.

"A little more cream then, perhaps?" Gene laughed into his napkin.

"Or chocolate instead?" Walter suggested with a slight shrug as they both bent over and peered into her coffee cup.

"Oh!" she stifled a gasp.

Startled, Gene and Edgar gazed across the packed room where several people waited to be seated.

"I don't know where they are going to be seated," Edgar said, "there doesn't appear to be any more seats."

"I don't see any more seats either. It looks as if we got here just in time. I think Ed's right, they won't get a seat," Gene looked across Angela at Walter.

"Who's that?"

"If you look across the room," Gene instructed nonchalantly looking at Walter, "toward the big picture window--just casually--under the letter 'O' in HOTEL--you will observe the scoundrel we were discussing earlier. A fellow by the name of Greg Bilker...and some of his friends...and look, Angela, isn't that..."

"Eileen..." Angela whispered.

s38 Onward, Still Onward

"Man, that is born of a woman, Is of few days, and full of trouble," David quoted. "Job chapter fourteen and verse one tells us that."

"I know that," Gene shook his head. "But I sure am tired of all the...contention and fighting, and...I'm just tired of it! Seems like I want to be peaceable, but all the time somebody's always wanting to argue and fight! How in Jonah's whale do I avoid it?"

"I suppose you've tried..."

"Yeah, just walk away. That's what Uncle Jed says. It doesn't work...look at this black eye and tell me how well that works!" he scowled at his friend and made a hard left swing at the punching bag.

"I'd say it didn't work too well. Hmm," David rubbed his chin in thought. "I guess when you put it that way...another scripture comes to mind as well.

"Another scripture?"

"Yes, Romans chapter twelve verse eighteen says, If it be possible, as much as in you lieth, be at peace with all men."

"How does that fit? Instead of walking away do I need to walk faster?"

"The key here is--if it be possible, as much as it lieth with you--. You see, Gene, with some people it isn't possible to be at peace. If you read in First Kings chapter twenty, Ben-ha-dad sent to King Ahab and wanted all of his treasures. King Ahab said, 'Okay, it's yours,' but Ben-ha-dad sent again and wanted more than what he'd demanded the first time. King Ahab calls the elders together and says, 'look how this man seeketh mischief.' Some people are like that. You can bend over backwards to make them happy, and they just won't be."

"I sent Angela to talk to you and Bessie. I'm not even involved in this, but because she's been coming to church with you two I guess he thinks Angela and I are 'seeing' each other."

"Well, you do see each other, but as friends. People like Greg don't understand friendship."

"He has an automobile to drive, money to spend, and a few guys that follow around with him. I guess that's what he calls friends."

"I tell you what, I think we have some work to do. Let's get busy...and hey, you'll never guess who's coming for a visit in a couple of weeks..." David said holding the other side of the bag. "Start by giving this old punching bag the old 'one-two' business--watch your foot work now."

"I'm not real good at the guessing game...who's coming for a visit..." he began counting and punching.
*******************************************

"How is your mother doing, Spike?" Gene asked as they were filing out of church.

"Since I've been working regular she's been doing much better. Willie and Sam are stationed out in California. They're doing good. Real good. Ma was worried sick you know when they were threatened with charges after the trial. You know it all worked out though. They got enlisted, and them drill instructors...it turned their lives around."

"Yeah, I knew it went pretty hard on her. How about yourself, what are you going to do now?"

"I'm driving for the cannery and that's working well. Though I'm thinking of going to work for the airplane factory."

"We'd sure miss you. You would have to move wouldn't you?"

"Yes. I'd move Ma with me of course. With Pa gone--she doesn't have much to stay here for--I suppose I'd better be leaving," he turned to go as Angela approached.

"No, Spike, don't go..." Gene caught his arm. "Hello, Angela. Have you met Spike? This is Angela Dorking, --Spike...and Angela this is Spike Potter."

"Ah, hello miss...Miss Dorking," Spike turned scarlet, and sputtered. "Ah, glad to meet you. I was just leaving, so..."

"Oh no you don't," Gene laughed and spun Spike back around. "Angela, this is the most shy fellow. For all his size he's pretty much a lot of bluff!"

"Any friend of Gene's is a friend of mine," She held out her hand and smiled up at the homely face of Spike.

Gene noticed the genteel way Angela had of putting people at ease. He had also witnessed her ability to put others in their place when they stepped out of bounds.

"Good morning," Spike took his leave after a few moments of pleasant conversation, "Guess I'll see you later, Gene. You too, Miss, if you come this afternoon..." he touched the brim of his hat--this time without the inclination of the flight mode.

"Gene, I wanted to ask you a favor," Angela waited until Spike was out of earshot.

"I won't promise anything, but ask away," Gene said.

"Mother is giving a dinner party, and she wants me to ask a few of my friends."

"Angela," he hesitated.

"Gene, you're the best friend I have. I don't like these dinner parties, and I...I suppose you're busy," she answered with a resigned shrug. "I was just hopeful."

"If it means that much to you,"

"It's next Tuesday, if you could come?" hope had flamed back into her face.

"Yes, I'll come. Only if it makes you happy. I'm sure your mother will think I'm out of place," he scowled.

"Mostly Mother's dinner parties are very boring. People her age--her cronies from bridge--and father's friends. People that will advance their careers, or some such thing," she made a sour face.

"We certainly don't travel in the same circles, but c'est la vie."

"You have such a funny way of saying things..." Angela wrinkled her nose. "I never did do well in Latin, but thank you so much! I'll have Mother put your name down, and you'll receive your invitation tomorrow. I'll see you later!"

Angela felt like weights had fallen from her feet. She sat in the back of the Pickerell's Hudson. Her heart kept singing with joy. She did find those dinner parties hateful, but at least this one would be different. She leaned back against the gray upholstery. Thank you God, she repeated over several times. She had found friends in David and Bessie, and she enjoyed so much the lessons from the pulpit, but she enjoyed being able to watch Gene in his own world.

"Ready to go home?" David called in through the open door as he scooted little Eric in the front seat between himself and Bessie.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Pickerell."

"Are you comfortable, Bessie?" he said helping her get situated.

"Yes, David," she said easing into position. It was close to her time of confinement before their second child was to make its arrival. This time she had no close friend who was also waiting, no one to anticipate with. She sighed as the door clunked shut.

"You look very tired, Mrs. Pickerell," Angela was brought out of her joyful haze with a jolt. "Are you alright?"

"I am tired, Angela, but I believe I am alright," she spoke with a smile and a reassurance.

Angela watched the church yard as other families exited the building and found their vehicles. An older couple were the last people out. They shut the door and turned the key in the lock. There were all ages here, even several young ladies the same age, or very close to, Angela's age.

Angela watched as Deidre Suko walked primly to her father's auto, and remembered the first Sunday she had met Deidre and her sister Sandra. She laughed at herself thinking how she had been slightly jealous of the two girls. It was not because they dressed better than Angela, but that Gene was so friendly and well acquainted with them.

"I hope you enjoyed your morning. Are you planning on attending this afternoon as well?" David made conversation.

"If you don't mind picking me up I would like to come."


"We can do that. We have singing this afternoon, so we should be by about five thirty. Will that be alright?"

"Yes," Angela hesitated slightly. She had forgotten about the singing. "Mother leaves for her bridge group about that time, but it should be alright."

"Angela, are you having...difficulty at home over your church attendance?"

"Only slightly," she said picking at her lace gloves.

"Would you like for me to come visit with your parents? Do you think it would help?"

"I don't know that anything will help," she blurted out. "They see themselves as more progressive, more advanced, and...I don't think there is any way to convince them different, Mr. Pickerell."

David could see the trouble in Angela's eyes as they looked at each other in the rear view mirror. That was one of her striking qualities, she was honest at heart. He found that to be ironic when he compared her to her parents who were two of the most self-centered and self serving people he knew.

"I tell you what. Bessie and I will lift you up especial in prayer. I'm sure all will work out well. It may take a day or two, but God watches over us all. We must have faith."

"You have a good afternoon, now," Bessie smiled over her shoulder at Angela. "Remember, we're praying for you."

"Thank you. Thank you so much," the troubled look was still on Angela's face as she slid out of the back seat. "I need those prayers," she took a deep breath, and closing the automobile door, she clutched her small white purse even tighter.

As they drove off down the street she walked up the steps from the sidewalk to their yard, through the gate in the white picket fence....

David turned at the corner and pulled up to the curb. "Let's have one of those prayers right now, Bessie. I'm so concerned for that young lady. I feel somehow that she is walking into the lion's den."
**********************************************

"Angela, when I said you should invite some friends for the dinner I didn't mean...well look here," Angela's mother angrily shook the invitation list at her. "I did not mean friends like Edgar Deering--and Gene Wade. Eileen Cantor--the banker's daughter and Jessica Crest--her father owns the new dry goods store in town-- well, they're good choices, but Edgar Deering! and Gene Wade! Just common..."

"Mother, can't I have even two of my own choice for friends? Not even two?"

"I've never liked the church you've been so adamant about attending lately. Mostly low class common folks. They're just greedy. They don't care about you...all they are looking for is your money. "

"My money?" Angela's eyes opened wide as she stared at her mother in astonishment. "What do you mean my...money?"

"Well," her mother stalled, "I mean look at your social class. Look at your father and I, and our social standing."

"Oh. I see," Angela's eyes narrowed slightly. There were a few ancient memories floating in her mind that were resurrected as she considered her mother's words. "But, Mother, it's only two people, surely they won't bother. And I would so like to have them." She smiled sweetly at her mother.

"I have important guests coming..."

"Only two..." she continued to wheedle.

"Only this once...I suppose," her mother gave in with a sigh. I could just kick myself for that slip, she thought. Angela's no dummy, and...
*************************

"Gene, I think you've grown another foot since last summer!"

"Oh, no, Aunt. That's not possible," he peeked around the parlor door which had been transformed into her sewing room for the next few weeks.

"I'm sure of it--look here are your measurements from last year--and here are the ones I just took--"

"I couldn't have grown another foot--look," he said standing in the door way. "Just look here, I still only have two feet--"

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" Uncle Jed guffawed from behind him in the living room. "He sure got you on that one, Agnes!"

"Oh, you two! Like two peas in a pod!" she rolled her eyes good-natured at their foolishness. "It won't take me long to have your clothes ready for tomorrow evening, but I'm still thinking I need to put a rock on your head!"

"What's that girl want you to come to dinner for anyhow?" Jed looked up from reading his paper. "You two don't even belong in the same social circles. We don't take to them parties and card playin' stuff," his forehead creased with his frown.

"I think she just needs a friend, Uncle..."

"Now, Jed, don't go giving the boy a hard time. He's almost sixteen. In a couple of years he'll be looking for a wife. You know we were young once too..."

"I hear Nissa waking up--I'll run up and get her up..." Gene left the two adults talking.

"Well, sixteen isn't eighteen, and eighteen isn't twenty-one--and he needs a good steady young lady. Not some body from uptown, who don't know how to do nothing. I bet she doesn't even know how to clean her house."

"Angela seems to be a nice young girl...not flighty like some I've seen," Agnes smiled thinking back on her own sisters, and some of the current young girls she knew.

"That's so," he said turning the page, "she's very helpful to Bessie. Pays attention to what's going on around her. Not like them bubble headed Gnash girls. Still, I bet she can't clean a house, nor make a meal."

"She doesn't need to. That's what they have their cook and the maid for. Ouch!" Agnes stuck her finger. "If I hadn't had Grandma Wade I wouldn't have had any training either...maybe she won't ever need to do cooking or cleaning...don't know that any of my sisters ever learned."

"Agnes..." Jed looked up from his paper, his reading glasses poised on the tip of his aquiline nose, "do you?"

"Oh, Jed!" she exclaimed in exasperation.

"I know, I know," he said with a grin. "Did I ever tell you just how gorgeous you are?"

"Jedidiah Wade did I ever tell you just how aggravating you are?"

"Nissa's done with her nap," Gene brought the baby downstairs. "I'll take her outside for a few minutes of play."

Agnes waited until the two had gone outside. "Look how good he is with Nissa..." she laughed. "Jed, I don't think Gene's serious about Angela. I think he's right-- she does need a friend, and that's all there is to it."

"That maybe so, but her coming to church of a sudden--looks a little suspicious."

"Bessie told me she and David have been praying pretty hard for her. They're concerned. When Dorkings first came to town remember how they were so friendly...until they found out where their bread would best be buttered."

"I've never figured out how they live so well on a teacher's salary."

"I'm sure they must have come from money somewhere."

"Well, they sure can spend it. Angela doesn't dress like a slouch."

"Jed!"

"I think it's time for me to go push Nissa in the swing..." he said laying his paper aside. "Before I get myself into that hot water," he folded his reading glasses up and laid them on the shelf above the clock.

Thoughts chased around in Agnes' mind as Nissa's laughter echoed from outside. Jed's words would not leave her alone. No, it was not wrong to dress in the latest fashions--as long as they were decent and modest. Scenes flashed through her thoughts. Agnes had caught Angela looking at Gene when she thought no one else would notice. Angela did not mingle with others from church, at least in the beginning she was more reserved. None of these things meant anything, really...or did they? What was it David always stressed? Pray about it...I'm going to ask Bessie what she thinks about this situation--Agnes decided. And pray about it.