“Well,” I said, smiling with her, “turn the radio up—maybe a few carols will put me in a Christmas mood, too. Did Latisha come with you?”
“No’m, she comin’ with Janelle ’bout lunchtime. I figure they don’t need to be here too early. But she real excited, thinkin’ she’s a big girl with a big job to do.”
I had engaged Latisha, Lillian’s great-granddaughter, and Janelle, their teenage neighbor, to take coats from arriving guests upstairs to lay across my bed. Their agile legs and feet were more able to go up and down stairs than those of many of the guests.
After folding the paper and before going upstairs to dress, I spoke briefly on the phone with Mildred and found her equally excited about our double party day.
“I’m as ready as I’m going to be,” she said, “and I’m really looking forward to it. You won’t believe how good things are smelling from the kitchen. Ida Lee is preparing turkey tetrazzini, even though she worried that people might be turkeyed out after Thanksgiving. But I’m not since I had ham for Thanksgiving. Besides, it’s a great buffet dish, and she’ll have enough to feed an army. I love the almonds in it, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, I do, too.” I paused, then said, “Mildred, have you heard from Helen?”
“Yes, in a roundabout way. She had her maid call with her regrets. She won’t be here.”
“She didn’t afford me the same courtesy. She hasn’t responded to my invitation at all, which is so unlike her. But after joining forces with Madge, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I expect she’ll go to Madge’s tea, if she goes anywhere. Oh, Mildred, I am so sick about this. I mean, I don’t care whether she comes to my party or to your party or even if she goes to Madge’s. I’m just sick about how deeply we’ve offended her.”
“I’ve already told you how I feel about that,” Mildred said with some firmness. “You just have to rise above it and give her time to do the same. And she’ll come around, Julia. I’m convinced of it.”
I, however, wasn’t so sure, but there was little I could do about it as Helen had ignored all my efforts to see or talk to her.
—
Guests started arriving a little before two, eagerly shedding coats in the hall into the arms of Latisha and Janelle, then hurrying to the fireplace in either the living room or the library. Candles were burning on the table and in the large hurricane shades on the mantels, the Christmas tree lights were glowing, and the music that Lloyd had selected played in the background, although mostly drowned out by the excited greetings to and from the guests.
It was the first event of Abbotsville’s party-filled season, and everybody seemed in a holiday mood aided, I thought, by the wintry-looking day. Thank goodness the mood was infectious, for my spirits began to lift as well, and Sam put it over the top. I had suggested, because my guests would all be ladies, that he go on over to Mildred’s and wait for me there. Instead, even though he had never been known as a jokester, he stayed and added to the merriment.
As the ladies milled around the table and lingered by the fireplaces, talking and laughing, he came down the stairs dressed in an old black suit, white dress shirt, a red bowtie, and white gloves. Mingling with the guests, a round silver tray in hand, he announced that he was the waiter, specifically engaged to serve at the party. Offering refills of punch or oyster stew, tempting with more hors d’oeuvres, and ladling out compliments right and left, he was the perfect mixer. The ladies loved it, and nobody left until it was time to go to Mildred’s party.
—
Hurrying across our adjoining yards, Sam and I bent against the icy wind, running some thirty minutes or so late for Mildred’s party. It had taken awhile to mete out the coats as my guests prepared to leave, not, though, without a lot of hugs and cheek kisses and thanks for a lovely party. Then I’d lingered to help Lillian clear the table and put away leftovers.
“Take whatever you want with you, Lillian,” I said, pleased by the end of a successful social occasion, as I placed envelopes on the table. “Latisha and Janelle will want some snacks. And their pay as well.”
“Yes’m, but you better run on. Miss Mildred’s ’spectin’ you. We’ll lock up.”
“Well, I have to wait for Sam to change clothes,” I said, laughing. “He just made the party, don’t you think?”
“He sure did,” she agreed. “He so good, he might think about hirin’ out.”
We laughed together, then I left the kitchen to make sure that all the candles had been extinguished. Sam and I had already decided to leave the tree lights and the electrified candles burning while we were at Mildred’s—something I rarely did for fear of fire. But Mildred’s house was lit up in every window, top to bottom, and our Christmasy-looking house next door added to the festive atmosphere of the entire street.
—
By the time we entered the crowded, noisy foyer at Mildred’s, her party was in full swing. Whereas mine had been graciously correct, hers was already entering the raucous phase. That’s what an ample supply of spirits, as well as the addition of men, will do. It was, I thought, the perfect counterpart to mine—each party reflecting the personality of its hostess.
Sam and I merged into the throng, moving slowly from one joyous group to the next—greeting, laughing, talking, and making the rounds of the lushly decorated first floor of Mildred’s home. Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens were there—he already full of Christmas spirits, as indicated by the welcoming hug he gave me. Binkie and Coleman Bates; Pastor (retired) and Emma
