Tea For Two Families

by Sydney Michelle

 

Part One

 

The air conditioning had just cut on when the door bell chimed.

"I'll get that, Angela. It must be the Taylors. Are the children ready?"

"Yes, Miz Brown."

"Make sure they're clean, then send them to the foyer." Beth walked past the mahogany dining table to peek through the sheers. Yes, there it is: Vicky's silver El Dorado. Beth closed the sheers, glided around the corner buffet toward the pocket doors.

"Freddie! Sandy! Hurry! You mustn't keep your guests waiting." Beth smoothed the pleats of her knee length peach dress as little feet thundered down the hall. "Softly! You're not a herd of wid animals. Remember to hurry without rushing."

The children screeched to a halt. "Yes, Mama."

Beth's crimson nails grasped the knob as the gong began it's deep Winchester chime. She drew back the door to reveal Vicky Taylor and her two children, Sam and Carol Sue, on the porch.

"Vicky! Come in out of this heat before you simply melt!"

Beth knew very well that Vicky was always cool, calm, and collected, whatever the weather. Today she was in a sleeveless Delft Blue polka dot, her waist impossibly small, hair up under a broad brim hat, face impeccably made up. Her children looked just as collected, fresh from the beauty parlor. A little fidgety, shifting slightly from one foot to the other, but clean and crisp, short white gloves covering manicured fingers. Carol Sue held her Bitsy doll close for safety.

Vicky herded her brood into the cool of the foyer. "Thank you, Beth. Where do you want us?"

"Freddie, Sandy, your manners. Greet your guests and show them back to the garden room."

Sandy stepped forward, hands clutching the crisp sky blue hem, dipping to Vicky, then Sam. "Welcome to our home. May I show you the way?" Sandy held out a gloved hand to Sam, palm up.

Sam knew perfectly well where they were going. She had been in the Brown home countless times, yet she played her part of the guest to perfection. She placed her hand on Sandy's, then took the hand through her elbow. "Yes, please. And might I say you look particularly nice today."

Sandy's eyes cast downward slightly. "Thank you. And so do you." Sandy guided Sam down the hall, blonde ringlets bobbing.

"And Freddie?" Beth prompted.

Fredericka stepped forward, extending a gloved hand for Carol Sue. "May I?"

Carol Sue's eyes glistened as hand went on hand, leaning forward ever so slightly. Eyes closed as Freddie bent forward to kiss the proffered cheek. Carol Sue's free hand tucked under the elbow, Bitsy clutched close to the blue satin sash tied at the waist.

"Is that a new hair style? I don't believe I have seen you wearing just that style before."

"How kind of you to notice. Yes, Miss Jennie is trying something different for this month's pageant. The curls are over to one side. I think it makes me look more grown up. Don't you?"

"It's very nice."

The two trailed down the hall in a rustle of organza after Sandy and Sam.

The two mothers stood on the diamond shaped marble smiling fondly after their off-spring. "Sometimes, Beth, I think it will all work out; our children will grow up lovely, with lovely manners."

"I know what you mean, Vicky. When Freddie and Sandy are at another mother's, or they are reminded to be on their p's and q's for guests, they can be such dears. But when it's just dear old Mom, why, why say 'please' and 'thank you' for a comfortable old shoe?"

"So long as mine don't start taking me for granted like my ex, Bill."

Beth took Vicky's arm in hers, steering her to the breakfast nook next to the garden room. "Now, now. Good thoughts. Only good thoughts, today.

"Did Miss Jennifer give you a color wash? Your hair looks even more vibrant than usual."

"It's a new conditioner. Blair let it sit for a few minutes after washing me, and I swear my hair feels thicker than ever. You must try it. Is that a new dress?"

"This old thing? I dug out my pearls since my best friend was coming to lunch.

"Angela? Could you seat us and then see to the children?"

"Yes, Miz Brown."

Beth stood by the chair facing into the breakfast nook, giving Vicky the chair facing out the window, looking toward the hydrangea bank. A tall glass of mint iced tea stood at each place, a saucer of lemon slices and a round pitcher between them.

A figure in a black maid's uniform wearing a white serving apron and cap glided through the door. One thick brown curl fell over a bare shoulder, resting atop firm, peachy cleavage.

"Are the children behaving, Angela?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Miss Freddie seated Missy Carol, and Miss Sam seated Missy Sandy. Missy Sandy poured tea while telling Miss Sam the kitchen was warm from baking a batch of her favorite cookies. Chocolate chip."

"Very good. Sandy is being the proper hostess, as taught. And testing whether the way to Sam's heart is truly through her stomach."

Angela held the chair for Vicky, sliding it in slightly as she bent her knees. Beth stepped under the table and bent, felt the chair nudge against her calves.

"If you would be so good as to bring our plates, then I think you had best help the children. I'll ring for you when we need something."

"Yes, Ma'am." Angela executed a slight curtsey before heading into the kitchen.

"Aren't we fortunate Cathy runs Cumberland Custodial from here? I don't know how my life would run without her domestic help."

"Don't I know it? Even with Angela two days a week, the house work just gets further behind."

"My Bridget comes every other day, and there's still more house than hands. The children help where they can, but there's so much they just cannot reach. Besides, they have a fairly full schedule, between lessons and learning what it takes to be a lady. They need some time to play."

"It's almost enough to make you want to get married again."

Vicky sputtered, her tea glass shaking.

"Been there, done that. If marriage means being taken for granted, a weekend fetch and carry, then we would be worse off than we are now."

Angela had silently returned. Two glass plates with flowered tomatoes filled with chicken salad appeared as if from thin air.

"Thank you, Angela."

Vicky cast an appreciative glance at the black clad form. "My Bridget's comely enough. Some woman might come along with a proposal to steal him away to chain him to her stove and bedpost."

Beth laughed. "Domestic help's hard to find, but that seems an extreme measure. Fortunately, I don't have to worry about that for awhile yet, do I Angela? You're not about to settle down and let a woman put her wedding ring in your nose just yet, are you? Remember, not long after you would be slaving over a hot stove, your hair up in curlers, a baby boy on your hip while your daughter clings to your skirt to peek around your apron."

"No, Ma'am. I'm keeping company with Miss Allison and she has two more years of college. And then getting established. But one day I'd like to run my own house and nurse our babies."

"I'm sure you will, one day, Angela. You'll make some lucky woman a good wife. In every way."

Angela blushed slightly. "Thank you, Ma'am. Will there be anything else, Ma'am?"

"Not for the moment, Angela. Go help the children now."

"Yes, Ma'am." Angela bobbed, disappeared through the doorway.

"I wonder how Cathy manages to keep maids. Kinde, kuche, kirche is all that fills their little minds. I swear, Beth, as their busts get bigger, their brains get smaller."

"A birl has to practice for his own house. A private home's surroundings are better than cleaning offices. And there's always the chance of walking down the aisle to organ music with someone from the household. Just like your sister Maria might make an honest coman of Lynn someday."

"Maria? Marry Lynn? Her housekeeper? You have got to be kidding."

"Stranger things have happened, Vicky. They're together all the time, and there have been times out at Stella Farms for children's parties that Maria has been positively comfortable with Lynn. And Lynn doesn't stiffen when Maria brushes up against him."

"So?"

"So. It might not be soon, they're both young, but when your sister starts getting anxious for the patter of little feet, don't be surprised if Lynn sits to the right of your mother Thanksgivings."

"No. You said think happy thoughts."

"I am. Maria could do worse. Lynn may not be a trophy wife, but he's presentable. Let Miss Jennie at him, and he would clean up better than you might think. Hair up, waist cinched in, something sparkly in his ears, in his hair, and I'd bet there would be no end to the sparkle in his eyes. And glowing cheeks once they're expecting."

"But Maria could do much better. If she's in the market, I could find her a lot of nice lookers."

"Out of the music scene?"

"That's my business. There are a lot of attractive, supportive possibilities."

"Speak for yourself, Vicky. You had better get moving. Don't be disappointed if she prefers a familiar dish. Just because we hope our daughters will take our sons to wife, doesn't mean every woman is going to prefer a performer for a wife.

"Sometimes I think arranging for a live in maid as a tryout might not be a bad idea. You'd get to see how they took to the children, and to housework, and if that works out, with a little seduction, a trail run in how responsive and satisfying they are."

"You haven't, Beth?"

"With Andrea? No. Not around enough and I dislike poaching. Alex was a lying, no good cheat, but he had certain good points before the responsibilities of Fredricka and little Alex became too much for him. Still, I miss having my fingers tangled in a good head of hair between my legs. Don't you?"

"I'm too busy and tired most of the time. Still, I get offers, some tempting, but I don't need a reputation for both a paycheck and a tumble on the side. A woman in management has a hard enough time negotiating with agents. Men agents, especially. Who think they can sweet talk you into the sack and an extra ten thou for their act at the same time. Getting my hair mussed for them isn't worth it."

"At least our birls won't be like that."

"No, they'll be sweet and supportive. Pretty and polished."

"Powdered and perfumed."

"What good wives they will be."

"But not for a sailor from the sea."

Vicky smiled, sipped her tea. "No, not for a sailor. Carol Sue will be with someone who will love him, appreciate him, and support him in the style to which he will have grown accustomed. If not your Freddie, then a woman much like her."

"And here's hoping your Sam walks my Sandy back up the aisle when Sandy's nineteen."

The two women fell silent, eating their salads, sipping tea, and watching their children in the next room. Gloves were neatly stacked on the table as the children ate and chattered, Sandy paying close attention to Vicky's Sam, and Carol Sue doing the same for Beth's Freddie. The birls were three years younger than the girls, so they naturally thought everything the girls did was wonderful, so mature. It took lots of encouragement from Beth and Vicky for the girls to endure their younger brothers. Still, they found the adoration satisfying enough to tolerate, and Sam did enjoy Sandy's burgeoning talent for baking, even if she were not always appreciative of the baker.

All the children looked their best, hair up, fresh from the beauty parlor. For Sam, Sandy had even tolerated ringlets. Sam had praised them beyond mere politeness, and if Sam liked them enough to kiss Sandy's cheek, well, the minor annoyance was not too great a price. Carol Sue's hair was full, even with his fine baby hair. The light brown hair had enough wave to take a curl, and Miss Jennifer had worked his long locks into fat sausage curls, centered just off to one side. With Carol Sue and Sandy in a pageant each month, Miss Jennifer was always trying out variations to make the birls look different, still innocent even in sophisticated dress up.

The girls' hair was simpler. Still long, still up, but in styles that required less effort to maintain. Freddie's chestnut hair was twilled back from her hairline, then caught into three pony puffs working back from the top of her head. Beth was determined Freddie would have a woman's long hair until she was at least sixteen. After that, she could have her hair cut, but she would know how long strands felt trailing across her. Sam's brown hair was swept up, a French Roll starting half way up the back and folding over the top of her head. Thin strands corkscrewed away from the seam, adding a softening touch to a style more mature than her nine years usually warranted. Something similar would grace her head when she and Sam danced in the Fall and Christmas talent pageants.

Each child wore a fresh light summer dress, crisply starched. Neither Beth nor Vicky would permit trousers or shorts on a guest or hostess unless outside play was the reason for the visit. Since they were inside, the birls also had to endure crisp petticoats and a shaping girdle. Carol Sue especially complained about his girdle. But Beth and Vicky were adamant: their birls would work on their figures all their lives if they were to have a waist, so the sooner Sandy and Carol were used to it, the better.

The children also wore short cotton gloves. They were grateful to shed them at the first opportunity, although they protected their fresh manicures and nail polish. Light pink, befitting their youth. And a light pass of pink lip gloss. The scented powder and touch of lilac water counted mostly as heat relief, not cosmetics. The birls were too young for anything more than simple studs in their ears, although the girls were now allowed small hoops. The only other jewelry allowed was a small heart shaped locket around the throat of each birl, and a small glittering band before the birls' curls.

Sandy was the perfect hostess, refilling tea glasses, asking if the guests would like more pimento cheese or sweet slaw. She was comfortable being helped by Angela, cooperatively polite with the servant, but not embarrassed to be served. From melon balls to sherbert, their little meal passed smoothly under their mothers' watchful eyes and Angela's gentle assistance.

"Your Sandy is a very good hostess."

"Thank you. Especially with dear friends. His only worry was whether Sam would approve. If she smiles at him, he's on cloud nine. If he thinks she is disappointed, he can be in tears. His birthday party next week will be a bit more complicated. But Maria always has enough activities to keep the children mixing. Sandy knows he is the center of attention when presents are opened and the cake is cut, but otherwise a good hostess makes sure all the guests are involved and enjoying themselves."

"I'm sorry I can't be there, but Friday is overwhelming getting the theater ready. If this weren't a dark week, I couldn't possibly take time even for lunch with you. And you know there's nobody I would rather have lunch with."

"I understand. Aunt Maria will fill in nicely. You will be there for the sleep-over, won't you?"

"As soon as I can get there. As I remember, at their age we used to nod off about midnight, despite vowing to stay up until the crack of dawn."

"Something like that. Now midnight feels like the crack of dawn."

Beth picked up the crystal bell to ring it lightly.

"Not to be crass, how's business?"

Beth smiled. "On schedule and on budget. Four groups out this week, and four groups over Labor Day. Then it's a little thin until the Nashville school groups pick up the last of September."

"Give me concerts and festivals. Except for January, it's a steady crowd. And steady income."

"Tours are a little more erratic. I do well enough, but it's hard keeping my hostesses solvent. I warn them to stretch their bonuses, but a birl with his first bonus? It's straight to the clothing sales. Honestly, if their girlfriends and their parents didn't help out, I suspect they might starve."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Dessert, please, Angela. If you have a load for the dishwasher, take a break and eat after you have cleared off the children's table."

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am." Angela disappeared with the plates and utensils.

Vicky's eyes followed Angela around the table. "You know, you could do worse if you need to take a little edge off. Angela also comes in on Wednesdays?"

Beth nodded.

"If you want, I could take the children to Lake Chatham. We're always shut Wednesdays. That would give you an opportunity for a little personal maid care. If you've a mind to."

"Thank you, but like I said, I hate to poach."

"Still, if you change your mind."

Angela quietly deposited footed saucers of pineapple sherbert before returning to the children.

"What about you? Do you think you might ask Cathy about making Bridget a live-in?"

Vicky shook her head. "Despite my jest, the only thing I might do is take Bridget off for a little bonus trip, but I've got higher standards for someone I might try out for a name change."

"Not someone you would take home to Mother Frances, is he?"

"No, definitely not. Since there is zero chance of a coman accidently starting to swell after getting to know one another, Biblically speaking, a little hanky-panky is never going to lead there."

"Lust, not love, huh?"

"Don't get me wrong; someone to love and care for, who would do everything he could to satisfy me, I want that as much as the next woman. But until it comes along, which even in Heraton is a long shot for a divorced mother, I'll look for relief from someone who isn't expecting me to put a diamond on his finger and hang a platinum ring in his nose."

"Me, I don't want to risk being entangled if the real thing comes along."

Angela appeared in the doorway.

"Ma'am, the children are retiring to the game room."

"Thank you, Angela.

"Come along, Vicky. There's a gallon cooler of lemonade waiting there. Playing a little Chinese Checkers with out children won't hurt in the 'keeping up with changes' category."

"Agreed. Just don't expect me to throw the game."

Beth smiled. Vicky never could stand losing. "Why don't we see if we can help our birls win at least once. The girls, being older, win almost everything. If our sons are to be fit wives, not just clinging arm candy, they need a few successes. We want healthy egos raising our grandchildren."

"Take one for the team?"

"Something like that."

"Then, 'Lead on, McDuff.'"

  

  

  

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