Silenced by the Yams - By Karen Cantwell Page 0,55
right where I belong.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
True to his promise, Howard stayed in bed until I awoke at two in the afternoon the next day. Even then, I could easily have rolled over and slept another day or two, but my mother’s guilt kicked in.
I stretched lazily and rubbed Howard’s arm. “What day is it?”
He kissed my forehead. “Thursday.”
Something about Thursday seemed important. I tried to imagine my calendar, wondering whether one of the girls had an appointment scheduled.
“Thursday, Thursday . . .” I was saying it out loud, hoping to ignite some memory. “Something’s happening today. I just know it.”
“Frankie’s indictment hearing?”
That was it! I snapped up like a catapult in action. “Do you know how it went?”
“Frankie Romano is officially a free man.”
Relieved and finally hungry, I decided to dig up some of that goulash and hopefully wash it down with a big glass of orange juice to celebrate Frankie’s freedom.
“Wanna join me?” I asked Howard.
He declined the invitation, saying it was time to head back in to work and wrap up his report. I kissed him and told him that I was planning the proper way to thank him for saving my life when he returned home that night.
“Does it have to be proper?” His smile was sly.
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Mr., I can be as proper or improper as you like.”
*****
At the kitchen table, I devoured the melt-in-your-mouth goulash and savored every last drop of the orange juice while Mama Marr scrubbed my kitchen counters with bleach water. I was too worn out to care each time she pulled another appliance away and gasped.
While I was rinsing the dishes, Peggy called. I figured she’d heard the news of my latest escapade and wanted either to gloat that she wasn’t involved this time or to get the nitty gritty details. I was wrong on both counts.
“Barb!” she screamed into the phone. “Major emergency! I don’t know what I’m going to do! Mama Mia! This just can’t be happening!”
“What emergency? Is someone hurt?”
“He flushed the toilet and I forgot to check.”
I wasn’t feeling any sympathy. “Is there more to this story?”
My doorbell rang and Mama Marr ran, rubber gloves and all, to answer it.
Poor Peggy was in a tizzy. Turns out, her cousin George Jr. (the one with the “weird” eye and short leg) had stayed at their house the night before. She hadn’t really wanted him as a house guest with the farewell party coming up, but how could she tell him that? And she really thought he ought to see a doctor because he spends so much time in the bathroom when he visits and always plugs the toilets, but she was so busy that she forgot to check the toilet after he left that morning and she went to the store and then to the post office and dropped off papers at the school and now her house is wet and smelly because the toilet flooded her house.
Mama Marr returned carrying a vase of flowers that was easily as large as she was. She set it down on the table and took a deep breath. “For you.” She handed me a card made out to Mrs. Barbara Marr.
“Peggy, I just got the most amazing bouquet of flowers. They’re stunning.”
“From Howard?”
Anxious to know myself, I pulled the card from the small envelope. Meanwhile, Peggy continued on her rant. “I should have followed my instincts and told George Jr. to go stay with my great Aunt Georgina. He is her namesake after all.” She blew out a sigh. “What am I going to do? I can’t have a farewell party here on Saturday!”
I read the card silently. “Our sincerest regrets for the anguish you have suffered. If there is ever anything we can do for you or your family, please let us know. The Board of Directors, American Cinema League.”
“Peggy, I think I may have a solution.”
*****
The American Cinema League’s board of directors was more than generous. They literally rolled out the red carpet for Roz and Peter Walker’s farewell bash and opened their banquet room to the many awed guests in attendance.
And if that wasn’t enough, Frankie and his crew catered the affair for free. His only condition—no candied yams.
Wine and beer flowed as freely as the enjoyable conversation.
The Walkers, The Rubensteins, and the Marrs sat together at a table along with Judi and Richard Horner. I kept them captivated with my recounting of the mayhem during the last few