“I’m inclined to agree with you,” I said, but somewhat doubtfully by this time. “That other party—that abominable tea—will expect gifts—money—from the guests, not the other way around. But, Mildred, I don’t know about all this. There’s never been a party like it. I mean, do you think it’s, well, appropriate?”
Mildred gave me a direct stare. “Listen to me. Why are you thinking of having a party in the first place? What’re you hoping to accomplish?”
“Well, I want the Homes for Teens people to have a party where nobody shows up. And, by that, to show them they’re not wanted where they are.”
“Well, then,” she said right back at me, “what we’re planning is perfectly appropriate to what both of us want to accomplish. Get over your concern about the proprieties, Julia. We’re dealing with people who have no compunction about running roughshod over anybody in their way, and I intend to give them a taste of their own medicine. So if you’re getting cold feet, I’ll do it by myself.”
“Oh, no, I can’t let you do that. It was my idea to have a competing party in the first place. I just need to think it through for your sake as well as mine.” I twisted my mouth in thought, then went on. “We’ll have to be prepared to have half the town or more thinking that we’re heathens who’re trying to turn homeless boys out on the street. Think of letters to the editor and prayer meetings and such like.”
Mildred’s eyes rolled back in her head. “You, of all people—worried about what people will think! Let me remind you, Julia Springer Murdoch, that you’re the one who opened the door to your husband’s mistress and illegitimate child, paraded them around town, marched them to one of the front pews in church, blackmailed people into inviting them to their homes, and dared anybody to say a word against them. You turned this town upside down and made the town like it.” Mildred leaned back after that diatribe and smiled at me. “I’ve admired you ever since.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate that.” I handed her the notepad with our list of plans, stood to get my coat, and, with renewed backbone, said, “I’d better go—it’s getting dark. I’ll be thinking about the kind of enticing prizes we can give away.”
Chapter 23
Just how much money, effort, and social repute did Mildred and I want to expend on an alternative party? I considered that as I walked across her lawn and into my side yard, pulling my coat close as the late afternoon chilled. It didn’t matter, I concluded, if it accomplished what we wanted. We’d be the talk of the town no matter what we did, so we might as well make it worth talking about.
I pushed down a few tiny qualms that kept trying to get my attention about the wisdom of publicly airing our opposition to the invasion of a stable neighborhood. Yet to simply give up and give in to zoning lawbreakers went against my nature. I obeyed the laws, why shouldn’t everybody else? And hadn’t those Homes for Teens people done their level best to advertise what they were doing? Asking for help? For money? For prayers? All done as if they had every right to be where they were and do what they were doing. And there was no doubt that the very people they were soliciting assumed everything was on the up-and-up. It was high time that assumption was put to rest and generous people were told in no uncertain terms that their money, time, and efforts were going to support an illegal undertaking.
“Lillian,” I said, entering the kitchen and sliding out of my coat, “Mildred and I are planning a party to end all parties.” I went on to tell her that it would be at Mildred’s house, relieving us—well, her—of a lot of housecleaning and preparation for a large number of guests. “You and Ida Lee will be in charge of the food, but we’ll purchase as much as we can ready-made. We want it to be substantial and beautifully displayed, so be thinking of what we can have.
“And be thinking also of what we can offer as prizes.”
“What kinda prizes you talkin’ about?”
So then I told her of our plan to keep all the guests at Mildred’s house until four o’clock came and went, thus preventing any of them from showing up at the Homes for Teens.
Lillian looked at me from under a lowered brow. “You sure you know what you doin’?”
“As sure as I can be. We’ve tried fighting those people with attorney’s letters and they ignored them. We’ve gone to the zoning board and spoken with the city attorney, and they can do nothing until the house is operating. Mr. Pickens has built a wall on three sides of that house and set Ronnie on them, and still, Lillian, they go blithely on their way as if they have a mission from on high.”
“Maybe that’s what they think.”
“Well, if that’s the case, they need to be reminded to render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s—which means obey the laws.” And with that, I changed the subject slightly.
“If you were to win a prize, Lillian, what would you want it to be?”
“I sure could use a little Christmas money,” she said. “Latisha wantin’ some kinda pad or notebook or something that cost a arm and a leg.”
“We’ll think about that a little later on. But for now, think of something besides money. What would thrill you if your name was drawn to win a prize?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a gift card to Walmart.”
I rolled my eyes just a little, thinking of how that would go over with the tea-attending ladies of Abbotsville.
On second thought, though, I decided not to discount it.
—
In fact, I had a lot of second thoughts throughout the evening, and gradually came to the conclusion that Mildred’s elaborate plans for a competing party
