We’re Having a Party
A month later…
I added a covered dish of Walt’s Special Scalloped Potatoes to the tray which already held two serving platters of Walt’s Special Herb Seasoned Roast Pork and another side of Walt’s Special Sautéed Brussel Sprouts. I hefted the whole heavy thing onto the palm of my right hand. I held the tray aloft and moved toward the swing door between the kitchen and the dining room. A large group of my friends were waiting for their meal, and I was in a hurry to bring it to them.
Walt strode up behind me on his silent feet and lifted the tray from my hand. “Are you out of your mind?” He scolded. “The doctor told you that you had to be careful! Why don’t you ever do as you’re told?”
“Jesus, Walt!” I complained. “You’ve been hovering over me like some mother hen for four solid weeks. I’m not an egg for you to sit on! I feel fine. The doc said I’m fine. The bullet they took out of my stomach was only .25 caliber. That’s not even a real gun, just a five-and-dime toy.”
Walt didn’t agree. He scowled as he scolded me some more. “You only had your stitches out yesterday!”
“That was three days ago, on Friday.” I corrected my husband. “This is Monday. And even if it was yesterday, I’m not some damn China doll!”
Walt’s scowl dissolved into a broad, amused smile. “You’re right, love.” He agreed. “The last thing you are is a China doll.” Walt hefted the tray he’d taken from me and frowned at it. “But, this tray is still too heavy and I’m not going to let you carry it.”
I stood between Walt and the door to express a concern I had for later. “I hope you’re not like this tonight. You and me have a date. You promised me some of Walt’s Special and the meat I want doesn’t come with a side of asparagus.”
“Don’t worry,” Walt promised, “I won’t make you wait anymore.”
“Good.” I agreed. “In the meantime, I’ll hold the door for you. I suppose I can still do that without your mothering.”
I marched to the swing door and pushed it open for Walt to walk through. He led the way from the kitchen, and I followed with a trestle stand to set the tray on top of. As we entered the dining room, a rousing cheer went up from the crowd which was gathered around the banquet table at the far end of the room.
I unfolded a trestle stand for Walt to set the tray upon and helped to distribute the food along the length of the table. Once the tray was empty and set aside, I shed my apron and prepared to join the party. Walt did the same.
Walt had originally suggested a very formal meal to celebrate the resolution of the case and my freedom from the care of the doctors. I’d argued against the idea. I didn’t think the people we planned to invite would appreciate a rigidly formal atmosphere. “Most of these people are tradesman.” I insisted. “They’ve never been to a black-tie event in their lives. This dinner is to thank them, not to make them feel uncomfortable.”
Walt eventually agreed with me. He decided to serve fine food but to do so ‘family style’ with no defined courses and big platters on a shared table. Walt brought in no wait staff, but he did pay a couple of the kitchen staff to help with the cooking and to clean up after. Owen was one of those who came in to help.
During the month I’d been out of the kitchen for my recovery from being shot, Walt’s opinion of Owen had grown significantly. Walt and Owen, the Marine with the snow-white hair, worked very closely together. Owen was even helping Walt to come up with new menu items.
Walt was so happy with Owen, he’d offered to release me from kitchen duty. “What would you think of being a host?” He asked when we were in bed one late night or early morning after the restaurant closed. “You could wear a tuxedo and be the public face of Walt’s Special.”
I chuckled darkly at Walt’s suggestion. “Did you forget you’re selling food? I don’t think you want my wrinkled mug to be the first thing people see when they come here. They might lose their appetites.”
Walt dismissed my sarcastic remark. “You don’t realize it, but you can be very dignified. I’ve seen you when you speak to customers. You’re very polished when you try to be. Wouldn’t you rather wear an elegant tuxedo and make people welcome instead of slaving in the hot kitchen? You’re a good chef, but you don’t really enjoy cooking; not like I do.”
Walt was right about me and cooking. I liked it well enough, but it was just a job for me. I didn’t love it like Walt did. My husband’s offer sounded attractive, but I worried about what it would mean for our current hostess. “What about Julie?” I asked.
“She’s not going to be around forever.” Walt reasoned. “She’s a very pretty young woman. She’ll meet a nice young man, and they’ll get married. Then she won’t need her job anymore. I wouldn’t be surprised if she winds up with Owen. They started courting a little more than two weeks ago. Both of them seem head over heels in love. It’s sweet.”
“Owen better be good to her.” I growled to the dark room. “If he’s not, I’ll…”
Walt didn’t let me finish my threat. “You’re awfully protective for a brand-new uncle.” He teased. “I think Owen will treat her very well. You should be careful, love. Owen beat the Japanese all by himself, or at least, that’s the way Julie tells it. You only had to fight the Germans.”
I laughed at Walt’s teasing until my still-healing wound pulled against the stitches which held it closed. I swallowed the rest of my merriment and waited for my stomach muscles to unclench. When they did, I admitted that Walt was right. “Owen is very nice. I think he will be good to Julie. He’s also strong enough to protect her. I’d like to see them together.”
“Me too.” Walt agreed and rolled toward me to finish his thought face to face. “Think about being a host, love. You’d be good and we could use a dignified presence in the dining room. Julie is a lovely girl and Benny the bartender is always deferential, but most of the staff are young. They need a steady presence to keep them in line. Walt’s Special should be an experience. It should be an oasis of gentility away from the harsh bustle of the city. I think you can help to give it that.”
The way Walt phrased his offer, I had no choice but to accept. Ever since my father threw me out of his tailor shop, I longed for the elegance I once had. I longed to move among polite people who dressed well and spoke in hushed tones. Because of my job in law enforcement, I didn’t get the chance to be elegant. During those years, I allowed myself to be coarse and profane. I wanted to give that up. I wanted to wear a tux and welcome people into the experience of Walt’s Special. I wanted to be an ambassador for Walt’s ‘oasis of gentility.’
“I’ll do it.” I said with no more thought. “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither.” Walt agreed.
* * * *
“Boss…boss…boss!” Owen whispered into my ear.
I shook myself out of my recent memory and jerked my head around to face the white-haired man. “What?” I demanded, surprised at being snatched from my wandering thoughts.
Owen handed over a full tureen of gravy for the roast pork. “I came to bring this to you and take the tray back. Are you done with it?”
“Yeah.” I agreed. “Thanks, Owen.”
Owen took the tray and the trestle. He carried both toward the kitchen. Just before he reached the swing door, my niece’s face appeared in the window. She pushed the door open and held it for Owen. She touched his shoulder affectionately as he passed through. ‘They look great together.’ I thought as I set the gravy on the table and sat down.
The group which we gathered talked boisterously and seemed to enjoy the party immensely. The crowd included David and Larry Ploughman, Ted Danton and his father Theo, Hank Kellerman and his wife Marie, the members of the Newlin Excavation Crew, Wiry, Smokey, Sunshine, and Pig Pen, my siblings, Georgie, Edie, and Millie, Alexander Scofield the lawyer and his investigators Jimmy Weaver and Harrison Stiles. Even Nate and Beth Holbrooke came from the rooming house where Ted and Larry once lived.
We all ate and drank and enjoyed ourselves. Walt seemed to be in an especially jovial mood. I noticed he was putting away more drinks than was usual for him. We weren’t through the meal yet and he was already on his third ginger-ale highball. I worried about the date he and I had planned for later. I didn’t want to ask him to rein in his fun, but I also didn’t want to miss out on my Walt’s Special.
I was trying to decide if I should mention the drinks to my husband when I noticed that one of our party hadn’t finished his meal. In fact, his plate looked like he’d hardly touched it. Harrison Stiles sat across from me and two spots down. He stared unhappily at his full plate. I wondered why he hadn’t eaten a bite, and then I saw. Harrison tried to grasp his fork with a hand which refused to cooperate. He set the fork down and returned his quavering hand to his lap.
I knew the poor man needed help, but he was either too ashamed or too proud to ask for it. I got up from my spot with a word to Walt that I’d be ‘back in a while.’ I went around to Harrison’s place and touched him on the shoulder. He looked up with a miserable, frustrated frown on his sickly face. I jerked my chin to tell him to go with me. He got up very carefully, pushed his chair in, and followed me to the kitchen.
Owen, Julie, and two other kitchen workers were seated at the break table. They had a pot of coffee and an ashtray between them to pass the time while they waited to help with the cleanup from the meal. I clapped my hands to get their collective attention. “Clear out, everyone. You’re welcome to have your dinner in the dining room at the opposite end. Keep it quiet please and don’t disturb the party. I’ll let you know when you can come back in.”
I singled out Julie as an exception from my instructions. “Julie, you stay.”
“Yes, Uncle Law.” She replied like the good girl she was.
I waited for the rest of the kitchen staff to leave through the swing door before I addressed my niece. Two of them left, but Owen remained. He loitered inside the door with one hand on the panel like he was about to push it open. I gave him a moment to make up his mind to leave. When he didn’t, I called him to the break table to ask him why he remained. “You do not have to protect my niece from me, Owen.” I explained.
“That’s not what I was doing.” Owen argued.
I teased the white-haired man. “Maybe you forgot how to operate the door.”
Owen shook his head. “You sounded awfully serious when you told Julie to stay. I just wanted to make sure everything was OK.”
“Everything is fine. I need my niece to run a small errand for me. Don’t worry,” I cautioned Owen, “it’s not a strenuous errand. She will join you shortly…in the dining room.”
Owen took the hint and left the kitchen. I couldn’t help but grin at his retreating form. He seemed quite taken with my niece, at least as taken as she was with him.
I forced the grin from my face to finally deal with Julie. “You know that you’re family. You could be at the party with your mother and your aunt and uncle.”
“Yes, Uncle Law, but what about Owen?” She asked.
I shook my head. “Owen isn’t family.” I explained, then I had a second thought about what I’d said and corrected myself. “Or should I say, Owen isn’t family yet?”
High color rose into my niece’s pretty face. “Uncle!” She complained.
“Never mind.” I said and dismissed my comment and her objection with a wave. “I need you to do me a favor. Go out and make a plate for Harrison. Be generous, he’s a hungry man. Also, bring me a tonic water with ice, please. Actually, bring one for both of us. Harry and me need to chat while he eats and I don’t want to talk with an audience.”
Julie hurried away on the errand I’d assigned to her while Harrison and I sat at the kitchen break table. I cleared away the coffee cups and other debris which had been left by Owen and the other kitchen staff. I also did my best to make Harrison feel comfortable. “How are you holding up?” I asked the man who still wore a deep frown on his miserable face. As I asked, I looked more closely at Harrison. His former fatness looked deflated, like someone had let the air out of him. I guessed he hadn’t been eating much.
“Lousy.” He admitted. “I feel like I’ve been rode rough and put away wet. If I would have known drying out was this hard, I never would’ve let you and Alex talk me into it.” Harrison’s temper flared at me. “Why do you give a damn if I drink?” He demanded. “Why is it even your business?”
I didn’t know what to tell poor Harrison. I was still trying to work out my response when Julie came back with a full plate and two glasses. She set the food in front of Harrison, along with a linen napkin and silverware, then she put a glass in front of each of us. When she was done, Julie waited to see if I had any more instructions for her. I didn’t, so I thanked her and sent her back to Owen and the others.
“Do you need help to eat?” I asked Harrison when Julie was gone.
“Fuck you.” Harrison muttered to his plate. “Fuck you and Alex. I oughta beat the livin’ shit outta both of you. If I wasn’t so goddamned sick, that’s exactly what I’d do. LOOK AT ME!” Harrison blared across the table. He raised his hands to show them weak and unsteady above the table. “I’m a MESS and it’s YOUR FAULT!”
Harrison propped his elbows on the table and lowered his head to rest in his palms. A few frustrated tears streaked down his face and fell into his plate. I grabbed for a pack of cigarettes which had been left behind by the kitchen crew. I lit one with a paper match and reached across the table to put it between Harrison’s lips. He accepted the cigarette and leaned back in his chair so the smoke wouldn’t get in his eyes. He drew on the cigarette and exhaled from the side of his mouth without taking the cigarette from his lips.
I decided to tell Harrison a short story to explain why I cared about what happened to him. “I was born in 1900, so whatever year it is, that’s how old I am. In 1927 I met a man named Charlie. Charlie was five or so years younger than me, and he was beautiful. I want you to understand that when I say Charlie was beautiful, I mean he was breathtaking. He was gorgeous and masculine and as kind and as friendly as a brand-new puppy. I wanted him, but he always refused me. To be honest, I don’t know if Charlie ever said ‘yes’ to anyone. I’ve always called him my friend, but I don’t know if he thought of me that way. I don’t think it matters much. Either way, I liked him.
“In 1931, we went our separate ways, and I lost touch with Charlie. I found him again by accident in 1944. By then he was living like you have been, at least he was living the way Scobie told me you live. I should have done something, or at least I should have tried, but I didn’t. I ran away because I couldn’t stand to see Charlie as a fat, bleary-eyed alcoholic. A few years later, he died. He died all alone in a room like the one you’ve been living in. The police called me to identify his body because mine was the only personal telephone number they could find in the little bit of stuff Charlie called his own.
“For all the fantasies I had of Charlie when I was young, and all the smiles he brought to my face with his teasing, and even the help he gave me in ’44 when I found him again, I never did anything for him. I should have. I should have at least tried. You’re my second chance. You helped me when I needed help. That tells me you’re a good man who cares about people.
“I care about people too. I care enough that I want to help them, even if they don’t want my help. I can’t stand the idea of anyone living and dying like Charlie did, especially if I can do something about it. That’s why I begged Scobie to help me bully you into drying out. That’s why I talked my husband into letting you live, rent free, in the empty apartment next to ours. That’s why I called you away from the table out there when I saw you having trouble. That’s why I’m sitting here offering to feed you.
“You’re a good man, Harrison. I want you to have a good life, or at least a better one than you’ve had. You want to shout at me for meddling? Go ahead and shout your lungs out. You want to beat me senseless? You’re too weak to do it now. You’re going to have to finish drying out first. If you dry out and you still want to punch my face, you know where it will be. I’d rather you beat me black and blue while you’re sober, than laugh with you while you’re drunk.”
Harrison listened to my entire speech while he smoked the cigarette between his lips. His angry expression didn’t change from start to finish. He didn’t even move as the ash from his cigarette fell on his shirt. Harrison picked up the ashtray from the table in both his quavering hands and brought it up to his face so he could spit his cigarette end into it. He returned the ashtray to the table and pushed his plate toward me. “Would you cut the meat, please?” He asked. “I can feed myself, but I’m afraid I’ll slit my wrist if I try to do the carving.”
I took Harrison’s knife and fork and started to do as he asked. As I did, he told me about what he’d been through over the last few weeks. “Alex let me stay with him. Actually, he ordered me to stay with him. He even hired a nurse, a big son-of-a-bitch male nurse, to watch me while he works during the day. It’s good Alex lives alone in that big house the judge left him. I was out of my head for most of that first week. Alex says I yelled like someone was murdering me.
“They strapped me to the bed for the worst of it. I remember some of the stuff that happened. My whole body hurt, not like regular pain, but like I was being ripped apart from the inside out. I had the crawls, bugs in my skin. I saw things, crazy fever dreams. I’ve had the DTs before, but nothing like I went through this time.”
Harrison held his hands up again to show me how unsteady they were. “This isn’t even the DTs anymore. That’s what the nurse says. He said I’m over the worst of it. He said this is just my body tryin’ to figure out how to work without the booze.”
I looked at the hands Harrison shoved under my nose, but I didn’t have anything to say about them. The fact that his body was adjusting to life without liquor was a good thing. I refused to offer Harrison platitudes or empty encouragement. I knew he still had a long way to go before he’d be at home in his sobriety. Instead, I commented on something of immediate concern. “This has gone cold.” I said about the food I’d cut up. “Let me put it in the oven for you.”
Harrison shook his head in the negative. “To hell with that.” He said. “It takes me so fucking long to eat, it’ll be cold again anyway. Just slide it back over here and let me get to it.”
I did as Harrison asked and watched while he ‘got to it.’ He held the handle of his fork in his closed fist like he planned to murder his dinner with it. He plunged the utensil into the center of the pile of meat and brought a morsel to his mouth. “Delicious.” He said as he chewed. “Thanks for not having peas. Alex served peas a few nights ago. He’s still findin’ them under the furniture.” Harrison laughed without bitterness. “Since then, it’s been corn on the cob every night.”
“Thanks for sticking with it, Harrison.” I said to praise the poor man’s efforts. “It’s selfish of me. I’m being selfish to interfere in your life the way I did. I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”
Harrison heaved a deep sigh and blew it out. “I’m not mad at you, Law, not too mad anyway. I’ll probably even thank you some day. I can’t do it yet, but one day I probably will. I gotta tell you, I’m a little scared. I’m more than a little. I’m a lot scared. I didn’t drink all those years ‘cause I liked it.” Harrison’s eyes sought mine over his plate. “I guess you wouldn’t know what that’s like.”
“Your guess would be wrong.” I announced. “Just because I never drank like you, doesn’t mean I didn’t do other things to smother the pain of my life. Now isn’t the time, but once you move in next door, we can swap stories. We can talk about anything you want, anytime you need. My husband taught me that nightmares aren’t as bad when you share them.”
Harrison didn’t agree or disagree with my suggestion. He ate another bite of pork and brought up another concern. “As far as that goes, are you sure you want me living in your building? I’m not classy like you and Walt.”
I laughed a deep, belly laugh at Harrison’s comment. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my time. ‘Classy’ was never one of them.” I swallowed my merriment with a sip of my tonic water. “You couldn’t go back to that rooming house of yours after you dried out. I also know you can’t live with Scobie forever. He’s away from the house too much for that to be good for you. When you’re ready, you come here. You’ll be welcome as long as you want to stay. Me and Walt are always close by, so we can be there if you need us. We’ve also got friends we can introduce you to, some queer and some not.
“You can eat your meals here. You can sit out front, if you want, or back here if you’re more comfortable. When you move in, you don’t need to bring a thing with you except your clothes and a toothbrush. The apartment used to belong to a friend of mine, Bea Arlott. When she left to get married, she didn’t need any of the furniture and stuff, so Walt and me bought it from her so we could rent the place furnished. Walt sent some of the kitchen crew over earlier this week to give it a good cleaning. There’s even fresh linens on the bed.”
“I’ll pay you back.” Harrison promised.
“Fuck you!” I insisted. Harrison stared at me with wide, surprised eyes because I’d sworn at him. “Nothing that I’ve done is a loan, and it’s not charity either. I’m repaying all the kindness Charlie showed me. I can’t pay it to him, because he’s dead. You’re alive, so you’ve got to take it.” I shook my fist at the shocked man. “You offer me one dime and we really will fight!”
I stood from the table and snatched up my tonic water. “Now, if you’re done saying silly shit, I’ve got a party to get back to.”
Harrison realized that my anger wasn’t real. He responded in kind. “Go then!” He blared at me. “See if I give a shit! The food will taste better if I don’t have to look at you.”
I started toward the swing door. Harrison called after me. “Thanks, Law.” He said to my back.
I stopped with my hand on the door just long enough to say, “you’re welcome, Charlie.”
