Ruth shifted the flower vase on the dining room table over a few inches to the right, balancing out the shapes and sizes. When she looked up, she noticed Shirley smiling at her. Even that didn’t lift Ruth’s spirits.
“Ruth Appelbaum, you’ve got housewife in you after all.”
Was that really a compliment? “Thank you. I enjoy helping you. Learning how to do things your way.”
At least for today, she had someone in her corner.
Harriet was the first to arrive, arms laden with a large Tupperware bowl. Ruth removed the lid and set Harriet’s Jell-O mold on the table among the other salads.
“This looks wonderful.” Harriet’s words were intended only for Shirley. She hadn’t met Ruth’s eyes directly, and her demeanor toward Ruth—after the Carrie incident—was noticeably cool.
Shirley puttered around the table, shifting plates and bowls an inch to the left or right, and then back again. “It’s not fancy-schmancy like it would be at Lillian’s, but I didn’t have a lot of notice, so it will have to do.”
After Irene arrived with another Jell-O mold and chocolate chip cookies, they all gathered in the living room, decorated in soft fabrics and shades of green. The girls milled about until Shirley sat on the Barcalounger and pushed herself to recline. The wooden arms, slats, and legs reminded Ruth of her father’s favorite chair, where she’d spent many happy hours on his lap listening to stories about her mother or seeking shelter from her brothers’ roughhousing. She grabbed on to this unexpected memory of joy. She might need every one she could get before the day was through.
The girls arranged themselves along the sofa, leaving space for Carrie. Ruth, empty spot, Irene, Harriet. It didn’t escape Ruth’s notice that the other girls left the space around Ruth, like she might be carrying something contagious.
It was five past and Carrie still wasn’t here.
Ruth’s stomach churned with angst. Worry bubbled up. Carrie was always prompt. She hoped her friend was late because she was mad at Ruth and not because she was in serious trouble.
Her stomach was doing jumping jacks now. If Carrie was avoiding them all because of Ruth, she might have made everything worse. Her friend might have no one to go to if . . . She shuddered. Stopped herself from completing that thought.
“We’ll just wait for Carrie before we get started.” Shirley righted the chair. “We’ll go through our lesson in the dining room. I hope you girls are hungry; the food’s not just for show.”
“What would we have been doing if we were at Lillian’s house?” Harriet asked.
Irene smacked Harriet’s knee. “Mrs. Appelbaum, she didn’t mean anything by it.”
“No, I didn’t, but you have to admit the surroundings are different here,” Harriet said, glancing at Ruth.
Shirley seemed surprised by Harriet’s candor, but didn’t seem to know exactly what she meant.
Ruth did know and, while it flustered her, she took offense on her mother-in-law’s behalf. It was one thing to be mad at Ruth, but it was entirely unfair to take it out on Shirley. “Harriet, that’s not nice,” Ruth said.
Shirley was aware enough to know the air in the room needed calming, and she raised her arm as if to forestall any argument that might erupt. “Lillian and I do approach things differently, but I can assure you it’s the same lesson.” She smiled. “I suppose I can begin by telling you what I remind myself every day—it’s not only my job, but my privilege to make someone feel comfortable in my home. Elegance is just another way of saying refined. Elegant doesn’t have to mean fancy.”
The doorbell rang. “Ah. There’s Carrie,” Shirley said.
Ruth slouched a bit; anxiety had tightened her muscles and straightened her posture—and exhausted her. Shirley walked to the front door alone, and the girls could hear the door open and Shirley greeting her guest.
But when she returned to the room, it was Lillian, not Carrie, who was by her side.
Lillian, who appeared fresh and well, not ill at all.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Shirley said.
Wasn’t this considered extremely rude, coming unannounced?
Ruth stood. “Where’s Carrie?” She noticed all the eyes on her and realized she’d spoken out of turn.
“Hello to you too, Ruth,” Lillian said.
“You’re feeling better?” Irene asked.
“I am. I had a hectic day yesterday, and thought I needed a lie-in, but once Peter and my daughters left, I realized it was the last thing I needed. Especially knowing Shirley made lunch.”
“We’re staying here, then?” Harriet asked.
“We are. It would be rude to leave, don’t you agree?” Lillian raised her chin as if she wasn’t going to let another lesson get away from her like lesson three had.
“I suppose.” Harriet looked at her hands, somewhat humbled by Lillian’s subtle admonishment.
“I know this is different from what we’d originally planned, but there’s no shame in needing a break,” Lillian said. “I had a busy weekend, but you girls are good medicine. Entertaining can be very therapeutic. It surrounds you with pleasant people.” She took a moment to smile at each of them.
Ruth couldn’t tell if she was more surprised or relieved that Lillian was being gracious to her. All her friends had told her to mind her own business; Harriet and even Irene were standoffish today. Lillian wasn’t. Ruth decided that probably had more to do with elegant entertaining and etiquette than Lillian’s real feelings toward her. She remembered the discomfort of being ushered out of Lillian’s house all too well.
Shirley looked at her watch. “Should we get started?”
Ruth squirmed. The seat beside her was still empty. “I’m sorry, I know manners and lunch are important to all of you, it’s just that Carrie’s not usually late.” Her voice sounded shaky, and she hoped the others didn’t notice.
Irene raised an eyebrow and Harriet gave a little huff. They clearly had their own ideas about why Carrie hadn’t shown up. Or they didn’t care.
“I’m sure she’ll be here any minute,” Shirley said. “Why don’t we wait in the dining room?”
They left their seats in the living room and converged around the dining room table. As the girls fumbled with notepads and pencils, the doorbell rang again.
The sound jarred Ruth, yet no one else seemed to take it as anything more than what was expected. Ruth was worried about Carrie; the others were nonchalant. Had they heard anything Ruth said? Didn’t the suspicions linger in their thoughts?
“See?” Harriet said, looking pointedly at Ruth.
She was so relieved, she didn’t take offense at Harriet’s haughty attitude.
If Ruth’s suspicions were correct, Eli wouldn’t stop what he did to his wife, and Carrie would need friends more than ever. She had no family or other friends in this town. Ruth spun around, anxious to answer the door herself.
“Lil, would you get the door?” Shirley asked.
Ruth’s shoulders tensed as Lillian nodded and walked away. Shirley babbled on about table arrangements, invitations, and seating charts, and the girls scribbled furiously in their notebooks. Ruth barely heard any of it, her attention focused on Carrie’s entry to the room.