39. Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Christmas 1950
L enore looked around the dining room table, making sure she’d remembered everything. It was covered in her best Christmas tablecloth, an ivory affair with embroidered poinsettias at each corner. Ceramic angel candleholders held tall, thin red tapers. She would light them later. In the corner stood a record player in its own cream-colored case, playing Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.” She never got tired of that song.
Johnny flew down the staircase, his footfall sounding like he had army boots on. How many times had she told him not to make such a racket? It was a losing battle.
Silverware in her hand, Lenore marched to the hall and put her finger up to her mouth to quiet him and then pointed to Hilda sleeping in a rocker next to the fireplace. That was her favorite place. The warmth of it eased her arthritis. The older woman could no longer do the things she used to do, and that was all right with Lenore. Hilda would always have a home with her.
“Where are you going?” Lenore asked her teenaged son.
“I’m going to the hill for some sledding,” Johnny replied. He grabbed his coat, scarf, hat, and gloves off the coat stand and sat on its bench, pulling on his boots. There had been a foot of snow dumped overnight on Lavender Bay.
“But it’s Christmas Day.”
“You can’t go sledding on Christmas Day?” He looked up at her, grinning. He was the image of his father, with the same light-brown hair, those sapphire eyes, the broad forehead and strong chin.
“Of course you can,” she replied. “But we’ll be having dinner at two.”
He was now a senior over at McKinley High School, with plans to go to college next fall for a teaching degree. Lenore still had some money left over from the inheritance her parents had left her, to pay for it. A college education for her son—how she wished John could see all this. But there was a part of her that believed that on another plane of existence, John saw everything.
Johnny had turned out to be a good boy. Although he wasn’t a straight-A student, he worked hard for his grades, and liked sports about as much as anyone his own age .
“All right then,” she said with a sigh, knowing there was no way she’d deny him any fun, especially on Christmas Day. “But when you come back, bring in some more firewood from the shed.”
“Will do, Mother,” he said, jumping up and bouncing out the door.
Through the window, she watched him pick up his sled off the front porch and head off with it. Looking around, he trounced through the heavy snow, leaving big footprints all the way to the street, and then headed south in the direction of the hill.
Once he disappeared, Lenore resumed setting her table to the sounds of Christmas music and light snores from Hilda in the parlor. The delicious smell of roast turkey floated in from the kitchen.
It was going to be a large gathering: the three of them plus her current tenants, except for Miss March, who’d gone home to her family in Corning for Christmas. Alistair and Harriet were coming with the children. And Laura and Edwin would be there with the girls.
Lenore smiled as she set the silverware around the long table. She’d laid a linen napkin across each plate. Using the good crystal, silver, and china gave her joy. Earlier in her life, she’d not given one hoot about such things. But after almost twenty years of thrift and deprivation, she’d learned to enjoy and appreciate it. She’d already set out the butter and salt and pepper. The sugar and creamer and dessert plates would be brought out later.
Finished, she stood back and admired her work, pleased. Christmas dinner was a turkey and a ham with all the trimmings. There’d be mashed potatoes, roast potatoes, stuffing, green beans, carrots, creamed spinach, and cranberry sauce. No Hoover stew or watered-down soup anymore. Depression and war were behind them, luckily, and hopefully for good.
Hilda mumbled something in her sleep, her mouth moving but her eyes remaining closed. Lenore headed back into the kitchen to check the turkey. She opened the oven, pulled out the rack, and basted the turkey before closing it back up. There was plenty of time to cook everything else. She decided she’d go upstairs and bring down the gifts for the children and place them under the tree. Johnny had already opened up his gifts before breakfast. There’d been a new sweater, a new pair of pants, and a couple of new issues of his favorite comic books. In his stocking were the requisite orange and nuts. She’d given each of her lodgers a small box of candy and an afghan in their favorite colors, like she always did.
Missing from the dinner table would be her parents, who’d passed away in the previous five years, her mother of a heart attack and her father from emphysema. Their house had been sold and the proceeds split between Lenore and Laura. It would have been easy to splurge, but Lenore had taken her share and invested it into her house. Her business. There was a new roof, a new kitchen, and all the bedrooms had a bathroom added on. Being able to offer lodgers their own private bathroom allowed her to raise her prices. Currently, she had a nice set of boarders. She couldn’t complain.
Later, about twenty minutes before dinner, she pulled the turkey out of the oven and set it on a hot plate to rest for a few minutes before she started carving it. Hilda shuffled into the kitchen, looking sleepy.
“What can I do?”
“You could check the potatoes.”
Hilda took a fork and pierced one of the potatoes in the pot of boiling water. “They’re done. If you drain them, I’ll heat up the milk and add some butter.”
As Lenore was draining the potatoes, she heard Johnny call out, “Mother, company’s here.”
And just in time, too.
She heard the front door open, and the volume of noise rose. They must all have arrived at once. The excited twitters from all the children filled the air, and she could hear Laura, Edwin, Alistair, and Harriet wishing Johnny a Merry Christmas.
“Go on out and see them,” Hilda said, making a shooing motion. She’d poured some milk into a small saucepan and begun heating it up. Hot milk made the mashed potatoes starchier, she’d always claimed .
Lenore removed her apron and threw it on the back of a kitchen chair. Two of her boarders stood in the front hall with her guests. Everyone was in a jovial mood. Edna and Edith were herding Alistair’s children into the parlor to look at the tree and more specifically, all the presents underneath it. Johnny was gathering everyone’s coats and hanging them up on the coat stand. When he ran out of hooks, he laid them in a pile on the bench.
Lenore hugged everyone and told them to go in and make themselves comfortable in the parlor and that dinner would be served shortly. She instructed Johnny to give the adults a before-dinner cordial.
Hilda was pouring milk and butter into the pot of potatoes. “I’ll mash those, Hilda. Go on in and sit down.”
Harriet entered the kitchen.
Lenore turned to her and said, “Were the children excited this morning?”
“Harry was awake at five in the morning!” she exclaimed with a big smile on her face. Looking around the kitchen, she said, “What can I do to help?”
“I’m going to mash the potatoes. Can you start carrying all the dishes out?”
With a nod, Harriet picked up the bowls of creamed spinach and stuffing and carried them to the dining room. Laura’s voice could be heard, directing everyone over to the table to sit down.
“Hilda, go on and sit down,” Lenore said. “We’re ready. ”
Hilda didn’t argue. Slowly, she made her way out of the kitchen and headed toward the dining room.
Harriet continued to carry out bowls of food and Lenore followed her, carrying the platter of turkey. The platter of cold ham had already gone out.
When she set the turkey down at the head of the table where she sat, she looked around at all the people gathered. It warmed her heart. Her wish had come true. Her home was filled with family and children.