He looked around. “This is a stupid old house anyway…and you’re old and ugly.” After he said it, he flinched, waiting to be hit, but Elner just agreed with him.
“Yeah, it is pretty stupid. And I am pretty ugly at that,” she said, looking in the mirror. “Oh, well. Come on, let me show you what I’ve got in the kitchen. I’ve got bacon, hot biscuits, and honey…and do you like strawberry ice cream? We can have some of that before you leave, if you want.”
He stood there and then, after a moment, followed her to the back of the house.
When Norma heard that Elner had taken in Luther Griggs, she called Elner, almost hysterical. “Oh, my God, Aunt Elner. Why did you let Merle Wheeler talk you into doing such a stupid thing? You should have called me first.”
Elner knew Norma and so she had been expecting the call. She said, “I know, but Norma, somebody had to take him in. Besides, it’s just for a little while.”
“Well, don’t be surprised if he burns your house down…or murders you in your bed.” Norma put the phone down and was still upset. “Good Lord.” She was worried enough as it was, with Linda being off at that big college so far away from home, and now this. How could she possibly relax? Her Aunt Elner was in danger of life and limb.
The next day, Mayor Smith came over to Elner’s house carrying a box. He said, “Elner, I found this old box of Bobby’s things in the closet and thought maybe Luther might get some use out of it.”
After Robert left, Luther looked inside the box in the living room and quickly grabbed the metal toy car that had once belonged to Gene Nordstrom, ran to his room with it, and locked the door. It turned out the boy loved anything with wheels.
Four weeks later, when the school year was almost up, Elner and Luther were having breakfast, and Elner said, “I know you must be missing your parents something awful about right now.”
He looked up at her between bites of buttermilk pancakes dripping with maple syrup. “No, I’m not.”
“Aren’t you getting anxious to see them again, honey?”
“Nope. They didn’t never care a thing in the world about me. I’d just as soon stay with you.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure that’s not true.”
In this case, it was true. He had been unwanted and had been told so many times by his mother. “If it weren’t for you, me and your daddy wouldn’t have to stay in this rotten town. We could be living in Las Vegas or somewhere where we could have a little fun.”
When Elner called Luther’s parents and asked if it would be all right to keep Luther a little while longer, his father had said, “Hell, yes. You can keep him as long as you want to.” And so she did.
—
IN AUGUST, WHEN HAZEL Goodnight arrived at Still Meadows, everyone there was anxious to hear about the tornado. “Oh, it was awful,” she said. “There was a lot of damage downtown—blew out a lot of windows. The hardware store and the Blue Ribbon Dry Cleaners both lost their signs. But at least they’re still standing. The worst-hit area was out past 289. It took out the entire trailer park.”
Ida Jenkins immediately said to her husband, “See? Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I say the minute we let it be built, it would attract a tornado? And it did!”
Old Henry Knott, who had died in 1919, asked, “What’s a trailer park?”
“Oh, Daddy,” answered Ida. “You don’t even want to know. People are living in tin cans now.”
“Why?”
“You tell me. The world has lost all the graciousness and charm that we knew growing up. I’m just so glad I was raised where I was, when I was.” A curious sentiment coming from someone who grew up on a pig farm.
At first, Ander Swensen had been grateful that his son-in-law had agreed to move into the house with them. But now, having lived under the same roof with him for the past years, he wasn’t so sure.
Ander was a successful businessman, and had dealt with a lot of people in his day, but he had never encountered anyone quite like Michael Vincent before. No matter what time of night or day, Michael always looked as if he had just stepped out of an Arrow shirt ad. Every hair slicked down, and perfectly cut. The shoes always shined to a high gloss. Everything he wore was crisp and pressed. He even smelled good. And, oh, how he could charm the ladies.
And tonight was no exception. When the family came into the dining room for dinner, Ander watched as Michael pulled Beatrice’s chair back for her, did the same thing for Hanna Marie, and then seated himself between the two. And as usual he addressed his next sentence to Beatrice. “You’re looking beautiful this evening, Mother. That brooch is very attractive. It brings out the blue in your eyes.”
Beatrice fingered the jeweled horn of plenty pin she was wearing and said, “Why, thank you, Michael.”
Ander could see that on the surface everything about Michael looked good, but something was bothering him, and he was not quite sure what it was. For some time now he had been torn between being pleased his daughter was still so happy with her husband and wanting to dump a plate of mashed potatoes on the guy’s head. Something was not right. He didn’t know if Michael was just a little too slick for for his taste or what it was, but every time Michael called him Dad it irritated the hell out of him.
Tonight, after Bridget had served the soup, Michael smiled and said, “Dad,” taking Hanna Marie’s hand in his and looking right at her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take our two girls on a picnic this Sunday. Might I borrow the big car?”
Hanna Marie’s big brown eyes lit up as she looked hopefully over at her father, waiting for his answer. Ander had already made other plans for the family that Sunday. He could turn down any offer in business he didn’t like, but never Hanna Marie. She was still his baby, and anything she wanted she could have.
Later, after dessert, when the cook came back into the room, Michael said, “You can clear now. We’ll take our coffee in the living room.”
When Michael first started giving orders to the help, Ander didn’t like it, but he’d let it pass. Tonight, though, when Bridget reached for his plate, Ander put his hand up and said, “No, not yet, Bridget. I’m not finished.”
Michael quickly said, “Oh I’m sorry, Dad, I thought you were.”
Ander looked at him and in a tone that almost sounded like a warning said, “No, not yet, Michael. Not quite yet.”
Being deaf, Hanna Marie could not hear the slight change in her father’s voice, but she knew something had just happened. She felt it. She quickly looked over at her father and then back at Michael, who smiled at her as if nothing was wrong. The subtlety of the exchange went completely over Beatrice’s head. She still thought Michael was wonderful. But Michael got the point. He would have to be more careful from now on.
1976