<7>
Hannah stood up as Edna motioned to her from the kitchen door. It was time to set out the salad, soup, and bread course. “Nice to meet you, Brandi. Sorry I can’t stay, but I have to help set out the next course. Andrea?”
“Yes?”
“You wanted to check on that Jell-O salad, didn’t you?”
“Jell-O . . .” Andrea looked blank for a split second and then realization dawned. “Yes! Thanks for reminding me.” She turned to Martin and Brandi. “It was nice chatting with you, Brandi. And congratulations, Martin. I wish you two all the best.”
Hannah heard her sister give a relieved sigh as they stepped away from the table. She’d been sitting with the newlyweds for over thirty minutes, and that was above and beyond. She turned to say thank you for helping out, but that thought vanished when she noticed the shocked expression on Andrea’s face.
“What’s the matter?”
“Hot Stuff. And That’s got to be Silver Fox.”
“What?” Hannah grabbed her sister’s arm. Did pregnant women start spouting nonsense when they went into labor? She really should have read one of the pamphlets Andrea had given her about childbirth.
“Hot Stuff.” Andrea pointed toward an older couple at one of the long tables. “That’s Vera Olsen’s screen name. Don’t you remember the e-mail she was answering when we were searching her attic apartment?”
“Right.” Hannah felt a wave of relief sluice down from the top of her head to her toes. Andrea wasn’t in labor and she wasn’t crazy. She was talking about Vera’s on-line romance with a man who called himself Silver Fox.
“Vera looks fabulous. She’s lost weight and had her hair streaked. I think she might have had a lift, too.”
Hannah glanced over at Vera. Andrea was always right when it came to noticing appearance enhancements and she could spot a facelift or a new hairstyle from a block away. “You’re right. Vera looks a lot younger.
“Do you think he’s Silver Fox?”
“I think so.” Hannah tried to recall the photo she’d seen on the computer screen. If she remember correctly, the handsome older man sitting beside Vera bore a close resemblance to the picture of Silver Fox standing at the helm of his boat.
“He’s certainly dressed well. That’s a cashmere vest and an Armani suit. And his hair’s been styled by someone really good. Not only that, his manicure is perfect.”
“Silver Fox has a manicure?” Hannah squinted, but there was no way she could match her sister’s eagle eye for spotting nuances of personal grooming.
“Manicures aren’t just for women, you know. Big executives make appointments for manicurists to come to their offices. I bet that’s what he is.”
“A manicurist?” Hannah asked, knowing that wasn’t what her sister meant, but unable to resist teasing her a bit.
“Of course he’s not a manicurist! He’s got to be someone with a big, important . . . “ Andrea stopped in mid-thought and made a strangled sound.
Hannah tightened her grip on her sister’s arm. “Is there something wrong? Do you want to sit down? Is it the baby?”
“None of the above. And stop holding my arm in that death grip. I’m going to bruise.”
“Sorry.” Hannah dropped Andrea’s arm, but she kept her hand at the ready, just in case. “Why did you make that sound?”
“Just take a look at Vera’s finger and you’ll understand.”
Hannah took a look and made an identical strangled sound as she spotted the glittering diamond ring on Vera’s third finger left hand. It was easy to see, perhaps because Vera was using her left hand to wave to everyone she knew. “Does that mean Vera’s engaged?”
“I think so. I’m going to try to find out.”
The sisters parted ways at the food tables. Andrea headed for the section where Vera and the man they’d tentatively identified as Silver Fox were sitting, and Hannah headed for the kitchen. She found Edna standing at the counter, surveying the platters, bowls, and the army of Crock-Pots that stood at the ready. “Where do you want the soup bowls, Edna? At the end of the table?”
“Good idea. I’ll take them out and you can bring the soups.”
“Do we have enough ladles?”
“Thanks to your sister we do. Put Vera’s Gazpacho first, since her boyfriend flew in special for the holidays. She told me she paid a fortune for hothouse tomatoes so she could make it for him.”
“He look nice,” Hannah commented, fishing for information as she picked up the large tureen Vera had brought in and followed Edna to the serving table.
“He seems all right, but you can never tell about a man until you’ve known him for a while . . . unless you meet him in church.”
Hannah bit back a startled laugh as she thought of some notable exceptions to Edna’s caveat, and headed back to the kitchen to get the four other soups. There was Sally’s Radish Soup, the one she served at the Lake Eden Inn, with its delicate pink color and surprising depth. Hannah let Edna float a few thinly sliced radishes over the top while she went back for Bridget Murphy’s Quick Irish Chili.
“I’ve got the toppings for the chili,” Edna called out following on Hannah’s heels with a platter containing dishes of diced onions, sour cream, chipped black olives, and lightly sautéed celery slices. “You get the Corn Chowder, and I’ll bring my Cream of Cheat Mushroom Soup.”
Once the soups were set out with regular bowls and a multitude of tiny cups for those who wanted to taste all four, Hannah and Edna went back to the kitchen.
“I’ll take care of the Jell-O molds,” Edna said, gesturing toward the breads she’d already set out in baskets, on plates, and on breadboards. “You can put those breads out now, and come back for the Jell-O.”
It took Hannah several minutes to set out the breads. Most of the local ladies had their favorites, and there was Sally’s Banana Bread, Gina’s Strawberry Bread, Cranberry Muffins, and Aunt Grace’s Breakfast Muffins. Once those were in place, opposite the soups, she went back for Cheryl Coombs’s Can Bread, which Edna had pre-sliced and arranged on a platter. She’d also cut Bridget Murphy’s’ Soda Bread into pie-shaped wedges and reassembled them in a round on a breadboard. There was a basket of Cheesy, Spicy Corn Muffins, and a big round wicker bowl of oyster crackers that Edna had provided for Mayor Bascomb, who categorically refused to eat soup without them.
When Hannah returned to the kitchen again, she saw that Edna was ready with two of the four Jell-O molds.
“Put the Pretty Coleslaw first,” Edna instructed, “and then the Waldorf Salad. I’ve got to tell you, Hannah, I’m having second thoughts about this Ginger Ale Jell-O mold.”
“Didn’t it set up right?”
“That’s not it. It’s nice and firm, and it looks really good. But since it’s got fruit in it, I’m wondering if it should go on the dessert table.”
Hannah thought about that for a moment and then she shrugged. “That’s up to you, but we’ve got a lot of desserts already.”
“That settles it then. It’s a salad. You can take it out now. I’m still trying to unmold your sister’s Holiday Jell-O.”
By the time Hannah got back to the kitchen, Edna had resorted to using the dunk method to get the last mold on its platter. She’d half-filled a bowl with hot water and she was immersing the mold in the bowl to within an inch of the rim. “That should do it,” she said, lifting the mold and drying the bottom with a kitchen towel. “Hand me that platter, will you, Hannah?”
Hannah handed over the platter, and Edna centered it over the top of the mold. Then she held the assembled mold and platter with both hands and inverted it by twisting her wrists.
“Perfect,” Hannah said as the Jell-O plopped cooperatively onto its platter. “There’s one more salad, isn’t there?”
“Just a big bowl of greens tossed with Claire’s French Dressing. I’m going to put a couple of Ellie’s Dilly Onion Rings on the top and leave the rest in a bowl for those that want them.”
“How about Reverend Knudson’s Quick Pickle Salad?”
Edna thumped her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Bless you, Hannah. The Reverend’s too nice to say anything, but no the rest of the congregation. I’d never hear the end of it if I forgot to put those out!”
“Okay, Norman.” Hannah gave him the high sign as she placed the last dish on the table.
“It looks great, Hannah. Kurt wants to know when you’re going to get a chance to eat.”
“Soon, I hope.” Hannah glanced over at the table where Kurt was sitting and saw that he had a fully laden plate. “I see he’s sampling some of the dishes.”
“He’s had a bite of everything so far, I think.” Norman moved into a better position for a shot of Andrea’s Jell-O molds. “Just let me get a couple of overviews of the table, and then you can cue in Mayor Bascomb.”
Once Norman had taken his last few shots and stepped back from the table, Hannah waved at the mayor, who wasted no time inviting people to sample the next course. The diners converged, and within a few seconds people were filling their plates and soup bowls. Hannah noticed that Norman was taking shots of the line that had formed, and when he’d finished that, he moved to the tables and took shots of the Lake Eden citizens, who were clearly enjoying their dinner.
Hannah held her breath as Norman approached Martin and Brandi’s table. She hoped he’d brought plenty of film, because there was no way a photographer could resist snapping multiple shots of a woman who was that photogenic. Come to think about it, any man, with or without a camera, would have lingered as long as humanly possible to bask in the light of a beauty like Brandi.
But Norman only snapped one picture and moved on, surprising Hannah so much, she gasped out loud.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Hannah said, whirling around as she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Michelle!”
A smile spread over Hannah’s face and she stepped forward to hug her baby sister. A sophomore at Macalester College in St. Paul, Michelle wasn’t exactly a baby anymore, but she was Hannah’s younger sister. “What are you doing here?”
“I just came for the food,” Michelle quipped, hugging Hannah right back. “Don’t worry, Big Sis, I didn’t cut any classes. I hopped a bus this afternoon and Lonnie picked me up at the Quick Stop.”
Hannah glanced around and spotted Lonnie Murphy talking to his brother and sister-in-law several tables away. Even though the youngest sheriff’s deputy was carrying on a conversation, he kept glancing over at Michelle.
“Is that him?” Michelle asked.
“Is who what?” Hannah asked, not caring that they’d just broken at least two cardinal rules of grammar.
“Winthrop Harrington II. Over there with Mother.”
“That’s Winthrop.”
“He looks pretty buff for a guy in his sixties.”
“Late forties. He’s younger than Mother.”
”She didn’t mention that.” Michelle frowned slightly at this news. “Have you met him yet?”
“Just a few minutes ago. When you get a second, go over and introduce yourself. I want to get your take on him.”
“Will do. I’ve got to meet the man who’s responsible for Mother’s shoes.”
“I just noticed them. They’re really sexy sandals with thin little straps and high heels, the kind that just kill your feet. Only a woman on the make wears shoes like that.”
“On the make?” Hannah asked, feeling a little like a parrot as she repeated Michelle’s words again.
“You know . . . a woman who’s trying to attract a guy. It’s pretty obvious Mother’s trying to attract Winthrop. And from where I’m sitting, it seems to be working.”
While Hannah tried to catch a glimpse of her mother’s shoes, Michelle glanced around the room, waving at a few people she knew. When she spotted the new Mrs. Martin Dubinski, she nudged Hannah. “Who’s that?”
“Brandi Wyen Dubinski. She’s a dancer from Vegas, and she married Martin a couple of days ago.”
“Martin married a stripper?”
“Michelle! You don’t know that!”
Michelle giggled. “Maybe not, but I bet you thought the same thing when you heard her name.”
“Me? Of course I would never jump to . . . “ Hannah stopped in the act of denying it and laughed instead. “Okay. I’ll admit it. I did. But it’s possible that Brandi was a legitimate showgirl.”
“Sure it is. And it’s also possible that she had parents who thought it was funny to give her a really terrible name. I’ll go meet Winthrop and then I want to talk to Martin and Brandi.”
“To find out about her name?”
“Not unless it comes up. I’m trying out for the part of Vegas showgirl in the spring play, and I want to ask her some things about routines and dancing. Not only that, I’m dying to find out if they really use bubble gum to keep those skimpy tops us.”
Hannah was chuckling as Michelle walked away. Her baby sister could always make her laugh. She watched Michelle shake Winthrop’s hand and seized the opportunity to look at her mother’s shoes as Delores got to her feet to hug Michelle.
“I’ll be!” Hannah breathed, shaking her head slightly. Delores was wearing the sexy new shoes she’d bought on sale last year, the same shoes she said she was going to throw away because they hurt her feet. If Michelle was right and only a woman on the make would wear sexy but uncomfortable shoes, Mother was definitely after Winthrop.
That gave Hannah an idea, and she glanced around for Martin’s ex-wife. Shirley was just coming back to her table, and Hannah had a clear view of her shoes. For a practical, no-nonsense person, Shirley had broken all the rules tonight. She was wearing cream-colored suede high-heeled ankle boots with fur around the tops. Since they were totally unsuitable for a Minnesota winter, and taking into account Michelle’s sexy footwear theory, Hannah could only conclude that Shirley was on the make for someone, probably Martin.
“What a mess,” Hannah sighed, her eyes roving the room again until she located Laura Jorgensen, standing at the food table. Laura was wearing red backless slings with high narrow heels, and she looked as if her feet hurt. She was definitely on the make . . . also for Martin?
Hannah had one more pair of shoes to check out, and she zeroed in on them. It was easy, because her baby sister was sitting with her back to Hannah and she had one leg crossed over the other. Along with Michelle’s completely acceptable tan slacks and bright red sweater, she was wearing tan boots with flat rubber soles that looked as if they’d seen better days.
Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. According to Michelle’s own theory, her youngest sister was not on the make. And if Hannah wanted to carry things further and look at her own feet, she wasn’t on the make, either. Hannah’s moccasin boots were designed for comfort, not allure. She’d worn them because she’d known from day one that she’d be helping Edna carry food to the serving tables.
And how about the sexy shoes you brought along in your tote bag? The ones that are hanging from a hook in the cloakroom? Hannah’s conscience spoke up. You’re going to put those on when the dancing starts, aren’t you?
Hannah didn’t like it, but her conscience was right. She’d planned to switch to the Italian ankle-strapped high heels right after she was through helping Edna, because they made her legs look so good.
Before Hannah could peruse any other shoes, or think about the advisability of trying to get rid of her conscience, she saw Edna waving at her from the kitchen. It was time to set out the main dishes and sides for the crowd that was already beginning to say that this was the best Christmas potluck dinner yet.