7 Madness in Miniature (2 page)

While I was adjusting to the idea of yet another meeting—and admittedly wrestling with whether to order an ice cream soda or a hot fudge sundae—teenager Jeanine Larkin came out of the store, probably summoned by a text from Catherine’s busy thumbs. Jeanine, who baby-sat Maddie in the days before she considered herself too old to need one, wore a strange combination—shorts cut so high that the linings of the white canvas pockets hung below the hem in the back, and a narrow, multicolored SuperKrafts apron that reached almost to her ankles. I hoped that her working attire when the store was officially open would be more businesslike. Most likely, not.

Jeanine’s slight build was deceiving. Without signs of struggle, she picked up the dollhouse from in front of Maddie’s feet. “Hey, Mrs. Porter. Hey, Maddie. I’ll get this set up for you in the display area,” Jeanine said. “I’m excited. We already have three other houses.”

“It’s going to be a great display,” I said. “Are you putting the open sides facing out?”

“They’re on turntables, so it doesn’t matter,” she informed me. “Each turntable has its own unique landscaping,” she added, a note of pride in her voice. “Like, one has a garden with flowers, another has this stone walkway, and one looks like it’s in the middle of a city. Like that.” I was impressed. The houses would be raffled off on opening day, the proceeds going to local charities. I had to say, SuperKrafts was making a great effort to be neighborly.

I knew my next negotiation would not be as successful. Maddie was a tougher customer than any big city corporation. I took a breath and addressed my granddaughter. “Maddie, will you go into the store with Jeanine and set up the furniture in our house?”

She gave me an incredulous look. “Now?”

“You’re the best at arranging all the rooms.”

She looked over at Sadie’s and stared for a moment, as if its pink-and-white awning were calling to her. “Now?” she asked again, her voice coming out as a high squeak.

I stood my ground. “Yes, please. Don’t forget to place the mirrors over the bathroom sink and the dresser. They’re—”

“I know,” she said, peeved. “They’re wrapped separately and the glue’s in the blue zipper bag.” She flashed a pout at me, turning her head rapidly from me to Sadie’s shop and back again. “I never get to have any fun.”

I returned her gaze with a serious look of my own, one meant to remind her of the immaturity of her remark and its inappropriate timing. There were those, including her parents, who claimed that I spoiled my granddaughter. Now was the time to prove them wrong.

Maddie’s look went from sullen to pitiful. I braced myself for delivering tough love, but felt myself caving. “We can have ice cream together later,” I said. Good thing neither her parents nor anyone else was close enough to witness my weakness.

“It’s not just the ice cream,” she said.

I knew that, of course. Maddie was as curious as any eleven-year-old, and then some. If something interesting was going on, she wanted to be part of it.

“This meeting is going to be very boring. All kinds of business stuff.”

“I don’t think so.”

“If you want, I’ll tell you all about it later,” I said. “Now, get in there.” I faked a scolding tone and was rewarded with a quick kiss before she ran off, the tote full of furniture swinging at her side. I mouthed, “Keep her busy,” to Jeanine, who’d already come back from depositing the dollhouse in the store. She gave me a thumbs-up, and I turned to the adults who wanted my attention.

While I’d been in the tug of war with Maddie, the three businesswomen, Maisie, Bebe, and Catherine, had pulled themselves together enough to start across the wide street.

“Let’s go before a giant SuperCreamery swoops in from New York, kicks Sadie out, and takes over,” Bebe said. “Or, I know, why don’t we bring in a casino?”

“As long they offer Sadie a good deal,” Maisie responded.

I heard a growl from Bebe, exasperated sighs from Maisie and Catherine, and recalled Maddie’s last, desperate, whiny “Have a good time.” Four females in bad moods. I followed along toward Sadie’s thinking I might be wrong about the healing powers of ice cream and hot fudge.

Everyone in my
miniaturists circle had been ambivalent about SuperKrafts, although for years we’d longed for a place near home to buy our dollhouse building materials, miniature furniture, and general crafts supplies. In our dreams, we saw a well-lighted space where we could hold workshops without intruding on our own living rooms. We didn’t know that we’d have to sacrifice the homey feel of our downtown or the disruption of the careers and livelihoods of our friends.

Over many months, through short visits and correspondence, Catherine had done a reasonable job convincing the majority of us, and Lincoln Point citizens in general, that in the long run, the megastore would serve our community well. Hadn’t we already seen the rise in employment opportunities, from inventory clerks to sales reps to assistant managers? We’d been assured of increased revenue from sales tax, and SuperKrafts had offered a generous stipend to each of the shops along Springfield Boulevard, as a “thank you” for their patience during construction. It was hard to argue with the advantages of the new presence on the boulevard. Many of the shop owners had used their windfalls for sprucing up their storefronts and offering special deals to make up for the inconvenience to customers. There was a definite upside to the megastore.

The downside of SuperKrafts had gathered around me now. The out-of-business Bebe had taken a seat as far away from Catherine as she could, given the small round table Sadie’s daughter had directed us to; Maisie looked forlorn, as if she’d sold out her best friend; Catherine had shed some of her cool and now seemed nervous and unprepared for this meeting. All were silent. At least no one was fighting. Yet.

I decided it was up to me to speak the first words. “Heavy on the whipped cream, please,” I said, describing my dream hot fudge sundae (the smell of melting chocolate had tipped the scales in its favor) to our pink-cheeked waitress.

The ladies followed suit, ordering a double chocolate malt (Bebe, ditto on the whipped cream), a single scoop of toasted almond (dieting Maisie), and a super-size banana split (Catherine, getting a laugh even from Bebe).

“What?” Catherine said. “I didn’t have lunch today.”

“You’re all so lucky,” Maisie said. “You can eat anything. I wouldn’t be able to fit into my muumuus if I ate the way you did.”

The usual diet-and-exercise conversation ensued, a nice buffer before the topic that brought us to the table. Once the delicious calories were delivered and nearly half consumed, we began in earnest, Catherine taking the lead. She looked across the table and addressed Bebe directly.

“I talked to Leo Murray,” she said. “He’s—”

“Leo, the almighty manager.” Bebe’s interruption included elaborate bowing motions as well as she could accomplish from a sitting position. “The guy from New York who acts like a big shot. Like you can’t trust a local to be in charge of the store.” Bebe then drew a large box in front of her face, to illustrate Leo’s boxy physique and above-average height and girth.

“It’s a temporary appointment, until he can train someone from here,” Catherine explained. “Believe me, Leo is not going to want to stay in Lincoln Point any longer than…” Catherine caught herself, but not in time.

“Why would anyone want to live in Lincoln Point any longer than they absolutely have to? Is that what you’re saying?” Maisie asked. “You got out pretty quick yourself, didn’t you?” Whether or not she was aware of it, Maisie, who’d been born and raised within a few blocks of Sadie’s, leaned her round body away from Catherine, toward Bebe.

I wanted to call “foul,” since leaving town hadn’t been Catherine’s choice, but her parents’. All the grandparents and extended families on both sides were in the New York–New Jersey area and it hadn’t been an unexpected decision to move back. I decided not to pursue this line of discussion, however, since we were already off on a tangent from what I knew was Catherine’s original plan for the meeting.

“Leo’s going to count on his workshop leaders,” I said. “Is that what you started to say, Catherine?”

She nodded and made another attempt to address Bebe. “I know you don’t want to work for us, but I’m glad you’re willing to give it a try. I think we can make it worth your while. You’re starting with ceramics, but you can also lead classes yourself or find good teachers for scrapbooking and card-making, and whatever else you want.”

“Like miniatures,” I said, though no one paid much attention.

Catherine continued, “You can choose your hours and make a decision once you see how the ceramics offerings go. We’d never be able to find anyone better than you.”

“You’ll have all new equipment,” Maisie said, warming up again to the new regime. “Greener than your old stuff. Good for the planet.”

“Since when are you a fan of the planet?” Bebe asked. “It took me all these years to get you to take recycling seriously.”

“I’ve been recycling my newspapers since before you were born,” Maisie said.

“Pssh,” Bebe uttered, reminding me of Maddie. “Not even possible.”

Here we go, I thought. Another intervention needed. So far, we’d kept our voices low and I hadn’t noticed any eavesdropping or curious looks from surrounding tables. Most were filled with teenagers with loud voices and hormonal issues to fret about. I steered the conversation toward other advantages for Bebe, which kept us all on an even keel for another few minutes.

By the time our dishes were almost as clean as they were when they’d come out of Sadie’s dishwasher, there was conciliation, if not smiles, around the table. Catherine took care of the check. She’d been playing with a straw from a container on the table. Now she bent it in half and let go. The straw snapped out of her hands, flew into the air and fluttered to the floor. The teens one table over burst into giggles and not even Bebe could hold back laughter.

Ice cream had worked its magic once more.

* * *

When
I stood to leave a few minutes later, along with the two former small-business owners, Catherine put her hand on my shoulder. “Another moment, Gerry?” she asked, still seeming not quite comfortable calling her former English teacher by her first name. I took a seat and asked our waitress for a cup of coffee, too embarrassed to order another scoop of ice cream. I would have liked a taste of Sadie’s new mixed summer berry flavor, just to refresh my palate, but I had to leave room for my return trip with Maddie.

“It will all work out,” I said to Catherine. “I think Bebe is actually happy with the idea of leading crafts workshops in the new store. She’ll have all the fun of teaching without the headaches of running a business, though it will probably be a while before she’ll admit it. That’s just the way she is. And your asking Maisie’s advice on sources for locally made cards was brilliant.”

Catherine’s face was somber. “I wish they were my biggest problems.”

I raised my eyebrows, an expression that welcomed sharing, I hoped. “What
is
your biggest problem?”

“Where shall I start?”

“At the top.”

“At the top in more ways than one is my boss, Craig Palmer.” She smiled. “The Third. He comes from a long line of CEOs. I know you haven’t met him yet, but he’s the one who’s been here in spirit.”

“The one Bebe has been sending letters to.”

“Uh-huh. Letters, phone calls, emails, making her position heard any way she can. Craig arrived in town last night and will be around some time today.”

“I’ll bet you can’t wait for them to meet in person,” I said, leading Catherine to roll her eyes. “You mentioned that he’s not the easiest person to get along with.”

“That would be the understatement of the week,” she said.

“What’s he likely to do? Wipe out all the promised perks?” It was clear what my focus was on.

“Possible, but I hope not. There’s a personal aspect, too.” I waited. Catherine sighed, then began again. “We were an item for a while. A very short while. I thought it was over, but you know how those things go.”

Not really. I’d lived a life of charmed relationships. I’d been married to the same wonderful man, Ken Porter, for more than thirty years until he died of cancer. Henry Baker, the grandfather of Maddie’s now seemingly estranged best friend, Taylor, was the first man I’d gotten close to in the years since Ken. If there was a rocky relationship in my past, it would have been in my teen years and I’d long since forgotten.

Still, I nodded, as if my life had been a daytime soap opera. “I understand,” I said, which was more or less true. I certainly understood pain and loss as any person of a certain age would, as a woman would who’d watched her cherished husband die a long, painful death. “Do you think Craig will continue to give you a hard time about the break-up when he arrives?”

“I have no doubt.”

“Is your job at risk?”

She shrugged. “It could be, but I have an excellent résumé and I’ve even had some interest from a number of headhunters.”

“Craig must be a smart man to get so far in management at a big company and my guess is that he wouldn’t want to lose a valuable employee. Surely, he’ll be able to move on?”

Catherine laughed. At that moment she might have realized how naïve I was when it came to the comings and goings of romance. “There’s another complication,” she said.

“Someone other than your boss or Bebe?”

Catherine nodded. “But a member of Bebe’s family. Goes back a long time.”

To high school, I guessed, and remembered. “Jeff Slattery? Bebe’s younger brother?”

I took Catherine’s momentary silence for a “yes.” When she spoke, her voice was low, her eyes cautious, as if a member of the Slattery clan or its armed surrogates had entered the ice cream shop. “Jeff’s divorced and since I’ve been coming back here so often this past year, we’ve gotten together again. Sort of.”

I sat back. And here I’d thought Catherine was all business when she was in town, except for the few evenings when she’d been invited by me or one of her old friends for a meal. I should have known better. Apparently, Jeff had stepped in to fill her social calendar. Jeff, an unremarkable student, had graduated a couple of years ahead of Catherine. Instead of going to college, he worked in town and eventually bought a corner shop on Springfield Boulevard and changed its name to Video Jeff’s. The shop had begun as a videotape rental market back in the Dark Ages of the seventies and now, under Jeff, was almost exclusively a game store. You could buy or rent any number of new war games or revisit the old ones.

“Does Bebe know you and her brother have gotten together again?” I asked. I felt it was safe to use the term Catherine herself had used to describe their current relationship.

“We don’t think so. Jeff and I have been very careful.” Catherine blew out a long breath. “Bebe blames me for the fact that Jeff didn’t go to college. In a way she’s right. He was waiting for me to graduate, and we were going to settle down somewhere away from all this.” I tried to imagine the “all this” she was referring to, and came up empty. Unless she meant Lincoln Point—was it that bad? I let her continue. “But…” She held her palms open, fingers splayed.

“Instead you left town, leaving him behind.”

“Uh-huh. At the time, I was as devastated as he was, but I was seventeen and didn’t see any options. I know I could have stayed here, maybe gone to college nearby, but my parents wouldn’t have supported that decision. I wasn’t strong enough then to buck them, and I couldn’t imagine being on my own financially.”

“Few seventeen-year-olds would have been able to do that,” I said. “Did you and Jeff break it off then?”

“We drifted apart emotionally. Truthfully, I may have recovered from the separation sooner than Jeff did. I liked big city life. Going to college in New York was a blast. Being back here now though, seeing Jeff, I have some regrets. But can you imagine if Bebe did know we’re seeing each other again? I’d be toast.”

When I was in the classroom, I was pretty good at picking up things like this. I could sense immediately that a certain fifteen-year-old boy was more interested in the girl in front of him than in the Athenian lovers in
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
, for example, and I’d make it a point to call on him and the object of his affection. And I had hawk’s eyes when it came to catching the time-honored ritual of passing notes across the aisle. But Catherine and Jeff had reunited right under my nose and I hadn’t suspected. I’d even felt bad that she was spending so many evenings alone in a small hotel room. Clearly, I’d lost my touch. Retirement had taken away my edge.

Maybe if I’d been sharper now and paying attention, I’d also know why Maddie and Taylor were on the outs. My mind went into free-association mode, as it sometimes did. What if Henry let the Maddie–Taylor situation affect our relationship? What if he took his granddaughter’s side against Maddie and we argued? Broke up? Was I about to become a member of the Unlucky in Love set?

I shook away my own worry and came back to Catherine in the present. I needed clarification of Catherine’s problem, or list of problems.

“Is it your boss and old flame, Craig Palmer, or Bebe Mellon who’s in the way of your riding off into the sunset with Jeff?”

“I’m not looking forward to Craig and Jeff meeting, but there’s no reason they need to. Anyway, I should be able to keep them apart. The real question for me and Jeff is—do we stay with the sunset, or move toward the sunrise?”

It took me a moment to catch on. “Ah, the dilemma of the bi-coastal couple. I don’t imagine you’d want to give up your life in the big city.”

“It would be hard, but even harder would be leaving my parents. Neither one of them is doing very well physically. And Jeff doesn’t want to leave Bebe. They’re very close, and all they have is each other since both parents died.” Catherine waved her hands in front of her face and shook her head. “But me and Jeff are not there yet anyway. And he’s definitely not pushing me.”

I was proud of myself for not correcting Catherine’s “me and…” grammar, which seemed to be the norm these days, though I did consider a retroactive lowering of her grade for senior year. I had the feeling we were talking around Catherine’s reason for asking me to stay at Sadie’s even though the ice cream was gone. I reviewed what she’d told me—Craig’s hanging on was a nuisance and a potential threat to her job, but she could deal with that; Bebe was cantankerous and might be even more so if she knew Catherine was in a position to lure Jeff three thousand miles away; Jeff was staking his claim, but not being pushy. Nothing that required my assistance.