Woolly, who had obviously been raised right, wanted to know if I had any bags.
—How nice of you to ask, I replied without looking at Emmett. My suitcase is in the back of the truck. And Billy, there’s a basket in the back seat, if you’d be so kind. But no peeking.
—We’ll get everything, said Billy.
As Billy and Woolly carried my things inside, Emmett shook his head.
—Sally, he said with more than a hint of exasperation.
—Yes, Mr. Watson.
—What are you doing here?
—What am I doing here? Well, let me see. I didn’t have much on the calendar that was particularly pressing. And I have always wanted to see the big city. And then there was that small matter of sitting around yesterday afternoon and waiting for the phone to ring.
That took him down a notch.
—I’m sorry, he said. The truth is I completely forgot about calling you. Since leaving Morgen, it’s been one problem after another.
—We all do have our trials, I said.
—Fair enough. I won’t bother with excuses. I should have called. But when I failed to, was it really necessary for you to drive all the way here?
—Maybe not. I suppose I could have crossed my fingers and hoped that you and Billy were all right. But I figured you’d want to know why the sheriff came to see me.
—The sheriff?
Before I could explain, Billy had his arm around my waist and was looking up at Emmett.
—Sally brought more cookies and preserves.
—I thought I told you no peeking, I said.
Then I tussled his hair, which clearly had not been washed since I’d seen him last.
—I know you said that, Sally. But you didn’t mean it. Did you?
—No, I didn’t mean it.
—Did you bring strawberry preserves? asked Woolly.
—I did. And raspberry too. Speaking of preserves, where’s Duchess?
Everybody looked up a little surprised, as if they’d only just noticed that Duchess was missing. But at that very moment, he emerged from the front door wearing a shirt and tie under a clean white apron, saying:
—Dinner is served!
Woolly
Oh, what a night they were having!
To start things off, at the stroke of eight Duchess opened the front door to reveal Emmett on the doorstep, a cause for celebration in itself. Not fifteen minutes later—just after Woolly had presented his uncle’s watch to Billy—there was a small explosion and who to their wondering eyes should appear, but Sally Ransom, having driven all the way from Nebraska. And before they had a chance to celebrate that, Duchess was standing in the doorway announcing that dinner was served.
—Right this way, he said, as they all went back inside.
But instead of heading to the kitchen, Duchess led them into the dining room, where the table had been set with china and crystal and the two candelabra, even though it wasn’t a birthday or holiday.
—My, oh my, said Sally when she came through the door.
—Miss Ransom, why don’t you sit here, said Duchess, pulling out her chair.
Then Duchess seated Billy next to Sally, Woolly across the table, and Emmett at the head. Duchess reserved the other end of the table for himself, the one that was closest to the kitchen door, through which he promptly disappeared. But even before the door had stopped swinging, he was back with a napkin over his arm and a bottle of wine in hand.
—You can’t appreciate a good Italian dinner, he said, without a little vino rosso.
Circling the table, Duchess poured a glass for everyone, including Billy. Then having set the bottle down, he was through the kitchen door and back again, this time carrying four plates at the same time with one in each hand, and another balanced on the crook of each arm—the exact set of circumstances, thought Woolly, for which the swinging door had been designed!
After zipping once around the table in order to serve a plate to everyone else, Duchess disappeared and reappeared in order to serve one to himself. Only this time when he came through the door, his apron was gone and he was wearing a vest with all the buttons buttoned.
When Duchess resumed his seat, Sally and Emmett were staring at their plates.
—What in tarnation, said Sally.
—Stuffed artichokes, said Billy.
—I didn’t make them, Duchess confessed. Billy and I picked them up earlier today on Arthur Avenue.
—That’s the main drag in the Italian section of the Bronx, said Billy.
Emmett and Sally both looked from Duchess to Billy and back to their plates, no less perplexed.
—You scrape the meat off the leaves with your bottom teeth, explained Woolly.