“I was too old,” Ed said. “You have to remember that by the summer of love, I was already an associate at Holubasch and Whistler.”
Arthur continued around the table. “Maj, I’m thinking no, but you’re a sly one, so you want to confirm or deny?”
“Absolutely not,” Priscilla said.
Arthur pointed at Charlie. “Chas, for you, the only mystery is, did you buy or sell more?”
Charlie grinned. “Hey, we all have to be good at something.”
“You never dealt drugs, did you?” I said, and John said lightly, “Alice, don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to.”
“Jadey, I know you’re a yes, because I was there,” Arthur said, and Jadey protested, “I was a teenager! That doesn’t count!”
“If you were a teenager, then you must be almost twenty-five by now.” Arthur smirked at his wife. (Were they really not having sex? They were so playful, or maybe there was more hostility in this exchange than I recognized.)
“John?” Arthur said.
“I gave it a whirl, sure, but it never did a heck of a lot for me.”
“And now back to fair Alice.” Arthur was across the table from me, between Ginger and Nan. “You’re kind of the dark horse here. Chas, you want to place a bet on your better half?”
Charlie narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me, and finally said, “Put me down for yes. Lindy’s got more of an adventurous streak than you’d think.”
I blushed—the comment seemed to have sexual undertones—and Arthur said, “Moment of truth, Alice.”
“Just once,” I said. “I think I’m in the same category as John, where it didn’t do much for me.” I thought of sitting in my grandmother’s bedroom in the summer of 1968 with her and Dena Janaszewski, and then I thought of my grandmother in the hospital, and I did a mental finger-crossing that her condition would continue to improve.
“Alice, clearly, you didn’t give it a chance,” Arthur said. “Where’s your stick-to-itiveness?” He was grinning the Blackwell grin, and he said to Charlie, “Why is your wife such a quitter?”
“Is it wrong that this conversation is starting to make me
a joint?” Jadey said. “And I swear it’s been about two decades.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows at Charlie. “Chas, are you thinking what I’m thinking? But who do we know that —?”
Charlie tilted his head right, toward the swinging door that led to the kitchen. He said, “How about Leroy?” Dread seized me. Leroy was Miss Ruby’s son, older than Yvonne. I had never met him, but I knew he’d had a few run-ins with the law.
“Brilliant!” Arthur reached over and lifted the small white porcelain bell Priscilla rang whenever she wanted to summon Miss Ruby. Right away, Priscilla snatched it back, and I was greatly relieved. “You will not implicate Ruby in your high jinks,” she said.
“Don’t try to tell me Big Leroy Sutton wouldn’t know where in this city to find good herb,” Arthur said, and John said, “Oh, I think he’s well beyond that. Herb is child’s play for a guy like him.” (Did it occur to them Miss Ruby might be able to hear every word they were saying? It seemed not.)
“I believe this is when Ginger and I will make our graceful exit,” Ed said, but he was smiling as he pushed his chair back. “Maj, Dad, thanks for a tremendous meal, as always.”
“Stick in the mud, stick in the mud!” Arthur cried.
“Oh, it’d be
unsuitable for the representative from the Ninth District to get caught smoking weed five short months before he’s up for reelection,” Charlie said. “And in the home of the former governor, no less. Someone call
!”
Wryly, Ed said to Ginger, “Come along, dear, and let’s round up Geoff.”
As Ginger rose from the table, Nan said, “I’m ready to call it a night as well.” I saw her eye John meaningfully; they both stood, following Ed and Ginger.
When the four of them had disappeared, Harold cleared his throat, and we all turned toward him. “Allow me a bit of unsolicited advice,” he said. “Nostalgia aside, this is an atrocious idea.” He stood. “Would anyone care to join me in the living room for coffee?”
The table broke up then, the idea of buying marijuana either through Leroy Sutton or another source seeming to lose momentum—thank goodness, as far as I was concerned—and as the men accompanied Harold into the living room and the women cleared plates, Jadey whispered to me, “Now Maj probably thinks I’m a pig
a druggie.” She did not seem terribly bothered.
When we all stood, Miss Ruby had magically appeared, along with a man named Bruce who helped serve and clear and acted as a bartender when the Blackwells held larger parties. Though I’d seen Miss Ruby several times
