“We didn’t hurt her. We offended her because she knew we were right. Now, how’re your party plans coming along?”
—
My party plans were temporarily on hold, although I had all the to-do lists made and they were already being carried out. I’d given Lillian the cleaning and silver-polishing list and she’d brought in some help to get it all done. She also had the grocery list, and had begun stocking the pantry and the freezer. My own list included putting up a Christmas tree, ordering a centerpiece for the table and some garlands for the mantels and the staircase, but that was for closer to the party date.
In the meantime, enthusiastic acceptances to our invitations were rolling in. And when the issue of Scenic hit the newsstands and the mailboxes, we had every indication that we were the talk of the town. Mildred added to the excitement in her interview with a reporter from the local newspaper as she extolled our grand vision of a double party. In the same issue, there were only three lines about the Homes for Teens tea, which was stuck in a long list of local events on the back page.
Early one morning as the odor of Old English furniture polish drifted through the house, the phone rang with what I thought would be another acceptance. So far there had been no regrets, and I answered with my list of invitees in hand so I could check another name.
“Miss Julia?” the caller said. “It’s Lynette, Lynette Rucker. I hope you’re well this morning.”
Ah, yes, the new preacher’s wife, I thought, then replied, “I am well, thank you. How are you, Lynette?”
“Oh, I’m okay, I guess. But I’m just calling to let you know that I won’t be able to come to your tea next Sunday, but Robert and I both will be at Mrs. Allen’s party.”
Uh-huh, I thought, just as I’d expected. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll miss you.”
“Well,” Lynette said, hurrying to explain, “Robert thinks we should attend Madge Taylor’s tea, and, unfortunately, it’s at the very same time as your party.”
As if I hadn’t known and planned it that way, I thought, but said, “We all have to make choices on occasion. And then live with them.”
“Oh, I know, but Robert just feels so strongly that we should support what Madge is doing, and I just hate that I have to miss your party. But he’s committed to helping the homeless, especially the young people, and you know how seriously he takes his ministerial vows, and of course it’s incumbent on me to support him and his ministry.”
“Of course,” I murmured, thinking to myself how young she sounded, although she wasn’t all that young.
“I just wish,” she went on, “that you and Mrs. Allen hadn’t chosen the same day as Madge’s tea—she’s very upset about it and wishes you had checked with her first.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said again as calmly as I could at the outrageous suggestion. “But perhaps Madge was the one who should’ve checked with us.” Which of course wouldn’t have done her any good, because her tea was the reason Mildred and I were having our parties in the first place. But Lynette didn’t know that.
“Oh, well, I guess she didn’t think of it. Anyway, thank you so much for the invitation. I hope you’ll keep me on your list for the next time—I’ll be sure to come then.”
Making no promises, I let her off the hook with a few pleasant remarks and hung up. Lynette’s turning down my invitation was no surprise, so I felt no disappointment in the choice she’d made. She’d probably have more regrets in the long run than those she’d expressed to me.
The only thing that caused my blood pressure to rise was learning that Pastor Rucker planned to have it both ways—go to Madge’s tea and attend Mildred’s party. It was my party that he’d decided that his wife should forgo, indicating where I ranked on his list of people one should not offend.
Wondering if his choice indicated that my social standing in town was slipping, I knew that in spite of the many problems and run-ins I’d had with Pastor Ledbetter, he would’ve never risked publicly offending me.
Perhaps it was all part of the aging process, none of which I liked. I had begun to notice that people in the service industry—waiters, retail merchants, and the like—had a tendency to overlook me in preference to younger customers. In fact, there’d been times when I thought I might have been invisible. It never happened with people who knew who I was—the same deferential help that I’d come to expect was always offered by them. But others would briefly glance my way, notice the hair and the face, and turn their attention to someone else.
The worst, though, were those who approached me as if I were slightly dense, hard of hearing, and partially blind. Some acted as if I needed special care, calling me “honey” or “dear,” as if I were a child.
Well, I was off on a tangent, and all because of having one person turn down a party invitation. Maybe I really was getting childish, but the worst was to come and it came soon after Lynette’s phone call.
It was Mildred who called and her first words were “Julia? Are you sitting down?”
“No, but I will. What’s going on?”
“I just had a call from Madge Taylor. I think she was hinting for an invitation to my party because she told me how disappointed she was that your party’s at the same time as hers. As if, you’ll notice, that she’d gotten an invitation but had to regret. She just said that the Homes for Teens was having a drop-in at the same time, then went on to say it would probably be over by five or so. Then waited
