No. I’m going to use them. What else are they for? My mother gave them to me for my wedding a long time ago. I’m missing two of them.
They brought out glasses and silverware and salt and pepper shakers and a dish of pickle relish and pink cloth napkins and iced tea in a glass pitcher. All was arranged on the table. Alene and Willa sat on one side, taking their time getting seated, Willa particularly, swinging her old bare legs over the wooden seat. Lorraine and Alice sat on the opposite side.
Over them lay the shade of the tree, dappling and swaying when there was a breeze at this noon hour.
Alice watched them, no one spoke nor began to eat yet. Then Willa said, I know we can’t all think alike, but I want to say something that resembles grace.
They looked at her. She shut her eyes behind the thick glasses, and they closed their eyes.
We’re grateful for this summer’s day. We’re grateful for this beautiful food. We want to be thankful that we are here in this particular place on this particular day together. We want to acknowledge these our many blessings. And we’re so thankful for this young girl here with us. May she be filled with joy all her life. And may there be peace in the world.
Then she ceased. They opened their eyes and looked at her. Amen, she said. Let’s eat.
They passed the dishes around. Alene had made the chicken salad with mandarin oranges and olives and slivered almonds, and Lorraine said how good it was and Alene said how good her potato salad was too and she said it was just potato salad but Alene said it wasn’t.
Alice watched them talk, watching each speaker. The chicken salad was served on opened lettuce leaves. She watched what they did. Lorraine cut hers as she ate and Alice did the same.
The women drank some of the chilled wine and made a toast. The tree shade moved, and there were birds calling from the lilac bushes and from the trees below the house.
After a while Alice leaned over to whisper in Lorraine’s ear and Lorraine said, It’s back through the kitchen, I think.
Is she wanting the bathroom? Willa said.
Yes.
Excuse me, Alice said.
She got up and went to the house. It was cool inside, the kitchen very clean and neat. There were starched curtains at the windows. The little bathroom was off the kitchen, it was clean and neat too, with a picture of a red flower framed on the wall. She washed her hands and looked out the kitchen window into the yard, they were still sitting at the picnic table. She looked through the doorway of the dining room, at the wood table and matching chairs and matching buffet, and farther back was the living room with the window shades drawn down for coolness.
When she went outside, Alene asked her, Are you okay, honey?
Yes.
Did you get enough to eat? Do you want some more iced tea?
Okay.
Lorraine said, I’m so satisfied and full. I could nap right here.
Well, we could, Willa said. We could just lie right down on the grass here in the shade.
I’ll get some blankets, Mother.
Alene went in the house and came back with two old chenille bedspreads and laid them out on the lawn.
What about the food? We don’t want it to spoil.
I’ll just put it in the refrigerator, Lorraine said. Alice can help me.
They lay out on the ground in the shade of the tree, with dinner napkins draped over their faces, to ward off the flies. Alice shut her eyes. She could still see light through the napkin. It was nice under the tree with the women.
We need a little music, Willa said.
Something soft and slow, Alene said. Piano or violin.
Then no one said anything for a while. Alice lifted the napkin from her face and looked at them, the three women lying on the ground with the pink napkins over their faces. Then she lay back and shut her eyes.
I wanted to play the piano, Willa said. I’ve told you this before, Alene.