So, of course, could the Homes for Teens, and there was no way that the Cochran house could accommodate such a crowd. That being the case, I decided that invitations to their tacky tea would’ve been limited to their own board members, the preachers of the seven churches they were courting, the most influential and well-heeled ladies in town, and, of course, the affected neighbors—to demonstrate their benign presence among them.
I briefly considered that they might’ve invited the zoning board administrator, the city attorney, and the city commissioners, then quickly decided that they hadn’t. They would’ve taken no chances that would appear to dare the powers-that-be to exercise their authority to shut them down. They intended, I surmised, to keep a low profile until they were fully entrenched in the neighborhood.
So, I concluded, there was no need for Mildred and me to go all out with our guest list or to bribe guests with high-value prizes at an ill-named soiree. All we had to do was have an elegant tea, and invite people who would’ve obviously also received invitations to the tacky one. Those guests would know what we were doing, and they would know better than to attend both. And to that end, I would have Lloyd and Ronnie sit on Hazel Marie’s front porch and keep a list of anyone who rang the Cochran house doorbell during the hours of two till four on Sunday, November 26. Ronnie would make sure that Lloyd didn’t miss anyone.
And the word would go out that those individuals who rang the Cochran doorbell would be off my and Mildred’s guest lists for the foreseeable future. I would see to that.
I was feeling much more comfortable with the idea of having a more circumspect party than the one that Mildred had envisioned, which, to tell the truth, had all the aspects of a carnival rather than of a ladies’ tea.
With that settled to my satisfaction, my next step would be to get Mildred to agree to tone down her exuberant plans and have, instead, a sedate, exclusive, and envy-inducing tea.
—
“Mildred?” I said when she answered the phone. “I think I’m having second thoughts.”
“Well,” she said, “I think I am, too. We could have half the town show up, and just think of the parking. We could be biting off more than we can chew.”
“I’m in full agreement,” I said, considerably relieved that she was so amenable. “I think I’ll go back to my original plan and have a tea—maybe a high tea, even though it might be a little early in the day for that. I’ll just invite our usual guests plus the Cochran house neighbors, and let it go at that.”
“And, Julia,” Mildred responded, “that’s exactly who Madge and her cohorts have invited because they’d have the same problem we’d have if they invited half the town. I think you’ll accomplish what you want by doing it that way.”
“Yes, and if any of my guests want to drop in here, then go to the Cochran house, there’s no way to stop them. But I’ll know who they are, and I won’t forget it.”
“Nor will I,” Mildred said. Then, with a sudden intake of breath, she went on. “Wait! Wait a minute, I’m having a wonderful idea.”
“No prizes, Mildred. I’m just not up for bribing guests to honor me with their presence.”
“Well, me, either, but that’s not what I’m thinking. Listen and tell me what you think. You have your tea from two till four, and I’ll have a supper party from four till six. Husbands can join us for that, and it won’t be too early for supper since it gets dark by four-thirty. What do you think of that? We’ll have the best of the best totally occupied from two o’clock until six, or until whenever they want to leave.”
“Why, Mildred, I love that idea. And just think. Once they get parked for my party, very few, if any, will want to give up their parking space to go to the Cochran house and come back. They’ll stay where they are and walk to your house from here. It’s perfect!”
“It is, indeed. Now listen, we’ll have to coordinate our guest lists—you’ll invite the wives and I’ll invite their husbands to join them. Of course,” she said, stopping for a minute to think, “there’re some without husbands—LuAnne and Helen come to mind—but I’ll reword their invitations. We certainly want all the usual suspects, don’t we?”
I laughed. “We certainly do, plus the immediate neighbors who’re affected by that house.”
“One thing, though, Julia,” Mildred said, “you don’t want to serve anything heavy—we want them to be hungry enough to come over here for supper.”
“Oh, absolutely. I’ll offer only hors d’oeuvres, and maybe oyster stew served in small cups.” I paused, considering the menu for such a party. “You know, Mildred, these are the times when I can see the benefit of alcoholic beverages. I mean, we’re essentially kicking off the holidays, and a tiny toddy would be in keeping with the season.”
Mildred laughed. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for years. But don’t worry, that’ll be all the more reason for everybody to come on over to my house. They’ll get it here, that’s for sure.”
“Well,” I went on, “think of this—there’s no way the Homes for Teens can offer spirits of any kind—not even wine because that would offend the Baptists. And serving alcohol would undermine their stated purpose of rehabilitating teenage boys.”
“You’re right,” Mildred agreed. “Why, I expect fourteen- to eighteen-year-old boys are already quite familiar with six-packs and grocery-store wine. If
