<8>
Hannah surveyed the entrée table with a frown. She’d carried out Edna’s Not So Swedish Meatballs, her mother’s Hawaiian Pot Roast, E-Z Lasagna, Rose’s Restaurant Turkey, Luanne’s Festive Baked Sandwich, Laura’s Smothered Chicken, Chicken Paprikash, Hunter’s Stew, Esther’s Meatloaf, and Irish Roast Beast. There was also Trudi’s Hot German Potato Salad with Bratwurst, Country Ham Casserole, Sauerbraten, Baked Fish, and something no Lake Eden potluck dinner could be without, Minnesota Hotdish. Hannah stood there holding a crock of Scandinavian Red Cabbage that was growing heavier each passing moment. every inch of space was filled. There simply wasn’t enough room for the sides.
“What’s the matter?” Norman came up behind her, prepared to take photos of the table.
“We ran out of room, and we still have at least ten sides in the kitchen on the counter.”
“Sides?”
“Noodles, potatoes, rice, and veggies. Sides are all the things you put on your plate with the main course. We really need them on the same table, but it’s just not possible.”
“Sure, it is.” Norman patted her on the back. “Go set that down in the kitchen and see if you can rustle up another tablecloth. I’ve got an idea that’ll work just fine to almost double your table space.”
By the time Hannah got back with the tablecloth, Kurt and Norman had combined the leftovers from the first two serving tables and appropriated the second empty table. They’d placed it at right angles so that it butted up to the center of the entrée table. The new T-shape was perfect for the sides, since it was smack dab in the center of the entrées, and Hannah wasted no time covering the table with the fresh cloth and helping Edna carry things out. By the time they were finished, Party Potatoes, Apple ‘n Onion Dressing Balls, Holiday Rice, Sweet Potato Casserole, and Make-Ahead Mashed Potatoes were arranged on one side of the table, while Silly Carrots, Spinach Soufflé, Corn Pudding, Green Beans Classic with a Twist, Oodles of Noodles, and the red cabbage Hannah had been carrying earlier had been placed on the other side.
“That looks good enough to eat,” Norman said, earning a volley of chuckles from Edna, who’s never been known to laugh while managing a dinner party. Before she could protest, he snapped a picture of her smiling face and promised that he wouldn’t give anyone a copy if she didn’t like it.
When Norman finished photographing the main courses and sides, Mayor Bascomb called everyone to the serving tables. Instead of standing in line with the other diners, Hannah got a cup of strong black coffee and headed in the opposite direction to collapse in a chair at the empty table where Norman and Kurt had been sitting. There was only one ore course to go, and that should be a snap, since they’d already set out some of the desserts for the early photographs Kurt had directed.
Hannah glanced around the banquet rooms, and she wasn’t disappointed by people’s reactions. There wasn’t much conversation because everyone was busy eating. “The sound of great food is silence,” Hannah murmured, remembering what her Great-grandmother Elsa had told her.
Curious about how the new Mrs. Dubinski would react to a Midwestern potluck dinner, Hannah glanced over at Brandi and Martin’s table. Their chairs were vacant, and a quick examination of the food line told Hannah that they weren’t filling their plates. So where were they? And come to think of it, where was Michelle? Hannah had seen her leave Mother and Winthrop and head toward Brandi and Martin, but now their whole table was vacant.
It didn’t take long to spot Martin. He was standing at his mother’s side. Brandi and Michelle must have gone to the restroom, and Martin had taken this opportunity to mend fences with his mother and ex-wife.
“You look tired,” Kurt said, putting his plate on the table, pulling out the chair next to hers, and sitting down.
“I am, but it’s worth it. What do you think of the food?”
“Everything I’ve had is phenomenal.” Kurt tasted the ribs and groaned. “I wish I’d saved more room. These are the best ribs I ever tasted.”
“They’re Norman’s recipe. He calls it Barbecued Anything. Make sure you tell him you like it.”
“I will. Why don’t you get yourself some food, Hannah? You look like a strong wind could blow you over.”
Hannah laughed. “It would take a typhoon, or at least a major squall. But getting some food is a good idea. I want to have some Chicken Paprikash. It’s a favorite of mine.”
“I put my helping over Edna’s Make-Ahead Mashed Potatoes. It’s great that way.”
“But those are meatballs, not chicken,” Hannah corrected him, pointing to the relevant section of his plate.
“I know that. I ate the part with the chicken while I was walking back to the table. Go ahead, Hannah. I want to dig into this E-Z Lasagna of your mother’s. it looks fantastic, and I just know Marcia’s going to want the recipe.”
“How is Marcia?” Hannah asked, knowing that Kurt had married his publisher’s daughter despite the wishes of her family.
“She’s just fine. And we just found out last month that we’re pregnant.”
“That’s wonderful,” Hannah said, wishing she could pick a bone with the women who insisted on that terminology. It was inaccurate. Men didn’t get pregnant; women did. Of course men were equally responsible for the pregnancy, but the phrase, we’re pregnant, set off klaxons in Kennedy’s logical mind. Sharing the experience of pregnancy was one thing; blatant disregard for the accuracy of the English language was another.
“Is there something wrong?” Kurt asked, picking up on Hannah’s silence.
“Oh, no! Nothing!” Hannah quickly assured him.
“Would you bring me back one of those cranberry muffins?” Kurt asked, popping the last bite of soda bread into his mouth.
“Sure. I’ll be right back,” Hannah promised, heading off to the food table and wondering whether she really had turned into the pedantic curmudgeon Andrea had often accused her of being.
“I’m back!” Mike declared, catching Hannah just as she’d finished filling her plate.
Hannah reveled in the feel of his arm around her shoulder for a brief moment, and then she smiled up at him. “That was fast. Did you get Shawna Lee to the airport okay?”
“Of course, but it started coming down pretty heavy on the way back. It’s a good thing I took my Hummer and not the squad car.”
“Right,” Hannah said, biting back a smile as Mike pulled out her chair and held it as she sat down. Mike was a guy’s guy, and he had the biggest, most powerful vehicle around. His Jeep hadn’t been a wimpy vehicle, but Mike had wasted no time in trading it in on a Hummer last month. It wasn’t the most comfortable ride for passengers, something Shawna Lee had undoubtedly discovered for herself, but it was powerful enough to get through almost anything a Minnesota winter could throw at a motorist.
“Thanks, Hannah,” Kurt said, as Hannah handed him his muffin. He put it on his plate and turned to Mike, who’d just sat down next to him. “Did I hear you say it was coming down hard out there?”
“Yeah. Visibility isn’t good at all.”
“Do you think the roads are still passable? I have to get back to the Cities tonight.”
Mike thought about it for a moment. “I think you’ll be all right if you leave right now. The storm’s blowing in from the north and you should be able to keep ahead of the worst of it. What type of car do you have?”
“A mid-size SUV.”
“Four-wheel drive?”
“All-wheel drive with anti-lock brakes.”
“High profile?”
“Not that high, but it has good clearance.”
“You should be fine, then. I’ll go out to the parking lot with you and help you shovel out. When I drove past, I noticed there’s a big snowdrift at the exit.”
“Thanks, but I’m not in the lot. I came in early and there was still parking on the street.”
After Kurt had tendered his apologies for cutting the evening short, Mike walked him out to make sure he got on his way safely. Hannah noticed that on Mike’s way back in, he stopped at her mother’s table to say hello, and it was clear Delores introduced Winthrop, because the two men shook hands. Hannah had already marshaled the questions she wanted to ask Mike about his impression of her mother’s date when Mike came back to take Kurt’s vacant chair.
“That’s the guy you and Andrea are so worried about?” Mike got in the first question, despite Hannah’s resolve to quiz him.
“What did you think of him?”
“He seemed all right to me. Have you met him yet?”
“Yes, tonight. He was perfectly polite to me, but he’s just so . . .” Hannah paused to struggle for the word that most correctly described her feelings, an unusual predicament for someone who’d come within a thesis of getting her doctorate in English Literature.
“Slick?”
“That’s it exactly! There’s nothing glaringly wrong with him, and I can see why Mother’s so attracted to him. But I don’t feel comfortable around him, and I still have my suspicions.”
Mike gave her shoulder a supporting squeeze. “No problem. Did you know that Bill ran him this morning?”
“I had no idea. Did Andrea ask him to?”
“I don’t think so. Anyway, absolutely nothing turned up. The guy’s so squeaky clean, he’s never even had a speeding ticket. You girls can stop worrying. Your mother’s not going out with an axe murderer.”
“I know that! But I can’t seem to get rid of my reservations. I mean, he’s younger than she is, for Pete’s sakes! And he picked up on her at dance class when they were learning the tango, or the mambo, or whatever it was.”
Mike was silent for a moment and then he leaned closer. “So maybe you have reservations because you don’t want to see your mother with anyone other than your dad?”
“That’s not it!” Hannah said, reacting immediately. But then, after she thought about it for a moment, she backtracked. “You could be right, but I’m not willing to admit that quite yet. Why don’t you go get some food before it’s all gone? I’ll save your place for you.”
After Mike had gone off to the food tables, Hannah thought about what he’d said. Her dad has been bead for almost four years now, and maybe it was time for her mother to look for someone new. The problem was that whenever Hannah thought about another man in her mother’s life, it seemed disloyal to her father’s memory. She realized that her attitude wasn’t fair, or perhaps not even rational, but that didn’t change the way she felt about it.
Rather than dwell on this unhappy problem for any longer, Hannah gazed around the room while she waited for Mike to come back. Norman was off snapping pictures, the students from the Jordan High Jazz Ensemble were setting up their music stands and chairs for an interlude of music during dessert, and Brandi’s chair was still vacant. Hannah glanced over at Babs and Shirley’s table. Babs wasn’t in her chair and neither was Shirley. The whole Dubinski family seemed to be missing.
Lonnie Murphy caught Hannah’s eye and waved. As Hannah waved back, she noticed that Lonnie was sitting next to an empty chair. Was Michelle still in the ladies’ room with Brandi, asking her about her showgirl career, while Martin was off somewhere talking to his mother? Or was Babs in the ladies’ room with Brandi, grilling her about how she came to marry Martin, while the man in question was off with Shirley, trying to explain how he had spent so much money on Brandi? There were just too many possibilities, and Hannah gave up. The only thing she could be sure of was that Martin wasn’t in the ladies’ room. If he’d followed Michelle, his ex-wife, his mother, or his new wife in there, Hannah would be hearing one heck of a commotion.
“Great job on the paté,” Mike said, sliding into his chair. “You made it just the way my sister does.”
Hannah was about to say that there was no way anyone could mess up such simple recipe, but this time she remembered her mother’s warning. “Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him. Then she turned to glance at Delores to see if her mother-daughter radar was working and she somehow knew her eldest daughter had taken her advice. But Delores seemed oblivious to anything anyone else was doing or saying, because she was too busy smiling up at Winthrop.
Was it a sign of neurosis when a grown woman felt the urge to mother her mother? Hannah pondered that for a moment as she watched her mother put her hand on Winthrop’s arm and give him a little pat. What did that mean? Was Delores being casually affectionate, or was Hannah’s mother actually falling for the lure of tailored clothes, a title, and a country manor with hedgerows and primroses an ocean away from home?
“Hannah?” Mike, nudged her.
“Yes?”
“I think Edna wants you for something. She’s signaling with her arms and pointing in our direction.”
“You’re right,” Hannah said, recognizing the I-need-you expression on Edna’s face. She gave Edna a wave to acknowledge that her message had been received, and pushed back her chair. “Save my place. I’ll be back.”
“You’d better be,” Mike growled, giving her his best fierce look. “We’ve got a date, remember?”
“Then you’d rather I wouldn’t set out the desserts?”
Mike pondered that for a moment and then he grinned. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to forget you’re going home with me.”
“Right.” Hannah answered his grin with one of her own and headed for the kitchen. Then she realized what Mike had said and came dangerously close to stopping in her tracks. Going home with him? That hadn’t been discussed or decided. It hadn’t even been mentioned before this! Of course it could have been a figure of speech that meant Hannah shouldn’t forget that they were leaving the community center together.
“Oh, boy!” Hannah breathed, startling a teenager who was carrying a trombone case toward the alcove by the cloakroom.
“Excuse me, Miss Swensen?” he said, phrasing it as a question.
Hannah smiled, more amused then embarrassed. “Just talking to myself. It’s something people do when they get old.”
“But you’re not old!”
“Thank you,” Hannah said, rewarding him with a smile. She’d had to ask Kirby the trombone player’s name. not only was he cute with his curly blond hair and runner’s physique, he had the gift of saying the right thing at the right time, something Bridget Murphy would call blarney. This boy could go far.
Several people stopped Hannah on her way and she ended up answering questions about such diverse things as what next Friday’s pie was going to be, to who she thought should play Santa at the Lake Eden Children’s Christmas Party. She was just passing the alcove where the jazz ensemble had set up, when one of the students called her name.
“Miss Swensen?” It was Beth Halvorsen, the flute player they’d so sorely missed at the Fourth of July parade.
“Hi, Beth.” Hannah reacted to the worried expression on Beth’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Welles isn’t here yet, and it’s almost time for us to start playing. Do you know where he is?”
“Sorry, Beth. I haven’t seen him. Can’t you just start playing without him?”
“No way, Miss Swensen. Mr. Welles is filling in for our regular drummer, and we’d sound awful without percussion.”
Hannah caught movement out of the corner of her eye and she turned to see Kirby Welles rushing up.
“Sorry, I got held up,” the bandleader apologized to his ensemble. “Are you ready to play?”
Everyone nodded, including the trombone player Hannah had found so personable. She gave them a wave and headed off to the kitchen as the strains of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” followed her. The music was perfectly audible, but not too loud to impede conversation. In other words, it was perfect for a dinner party. Hannah resolved to tell Ken Purvis, Jordan’s High’s principal, that Kirby’s jazz ensemble was perfect for the occasion.
“Took you long enough,” Edna grumbled when Hannah came through the kitchen doorway. “We’ve got a crisis here.”
“What?” Hannah asked, feeling her heart rate gear up to what she thought was crisis mode.
“It’s not on the table!”
“What’s not on the table?”
“Your mother’s cake knife!” Edna wailed, reaching out to grab Hannah’s arm. “It’s missing, and I can’t find it anywhere!”