When Ben the younger walked in with Ida, Charles, and Mike, a rictus of a smile was frozen on his face — the kind of grin worn by a death’s head. “Come on in,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Lily and I would’ve invited you over to our new place, but you would’ve had to sit on unpacked boxes.”
The three Maycombs glanced around the living room— approvingly, Lily hoped. Despite the hot weather, Charles and Ida were both dressed for a Sunday service at Calvary Baptist. They looked as starched and proper as Dick and Pat Nixon in their heyday. Mike, however, was going for a more casual look. In his ridiculous fuchsia polo shirt with matching fuchsia and kelly green plaid pants, he was dressed for a day on the golf course.
Ida nodded at Lily and emitted a frosty “Hello.”
“Hi,” Lily said as brightly as she could manage. “I’m glad y’all could make it.”
Ida’s frostiness melted away when her eyes came to rest on Mimi. “There she is!” she whooped.
“Grandma’s little precious!”
Mimi stretched out her arms. “Gamma!” Ida picked up her granddaughter and held her close.
“She took her first steps today,” Lily said.
“She did?” Ida crooned, “Gwamma’s little angel’s getting to be a big girl. Charles, did you hear that?”
“Sure did.” Charles shifted his feet uncomfortably, obviously wishing he was in a setting where he would feel more comfortable, like a book burning or a Klan rally. He looked over at Mike for a cue. Lily had noticed how both Ida and Charles tended to follow Mike’s lead. To them, their son was one of the greatest minds of this, or any, century. Lily had no doubt that contesting her custody of Mimi had been Mike’s big idea ... and that he had convinced Ida and Charles of its wisdom.
“Hel-lo!” Jeanie half sang, emerging from the kitchen as though she was making her big entrance in a play. “Please, sit down, and make yourselves at home. I’m Jeanie McGilly, Ben’s mama.” She shook hands with her guests, who introduced themselves. “I am so sorry that my husband hasn’t arrived yet. I’m sure you know how hard it is to drag a man away from work, don’t you, Ida?” Jeanie’s smile was stunning. “Can I get you folks anything to drink before dinner?”
Lily saw Charles recoil slightly. The Maycombs were teetotalers who regarded anyone who drank so much as a beer a day as a hopeless alcoholic. Jeanie must have noticed Charles’s reaction, too, because she added, “Iced tea? Lemonade?”
They all sat in the living room, glasses of lemonade in hand, unable to come up with a single topic of conversation. Lily sat close to Ben on the couch, her hand in his. It was difficult to pretend to be in love. Real love was such a natural flow of feeling that it was hard to know how to fake it.
“So, Lily,” Ida said at the point where the sipping of lemonade was becoming a deafening sound,
“how did you and Ben meet?”
“Oh, we’ve been friends for years,” Lily said, trying to smile at Ben adoringly. “It was only recently that we started to become ... more.” She attempted a giggle, but stopped it when she decided she sounded demented.
“Yeah,” Ben added, “Lily and me together—who’d have thought it?”
“It’s just like that movie When Harry Met Sally,” Jeanie said, “where the couple’s been friends for years before they realize they were meant to be together. I just love mushy movies like that, don’t you, Ida?”
