Shiloh and Other Stories - Bobbie Ann Mason [43]
While Carolyn helped her mother in the kitchen, Dad went to get her grandfather, her mother’s father. Pappy, who had been disabled by a stroke, was cared for by a live-in housekeeper who had gone home to her own family for the day. Carolyn diced apples and pears for fruit salad while her mother shaped sweet potato balls with marshmallow centers and rolled them in crushed cornflakes. On TV in the living room, Days of Our Lives was beginning, but the Christmas tree blocked their view of the television set.
“Whose name did you draw, Mom?” Carolyn asked, as she began seeding the grapes.
“Jim’s.”
“You put Jim’s name in the hat?”
Mom nodded. Jim Walsh was the man Carolyn’s youngest sister, Laura Jean, was living with in St. Louis. Laura Jean was going to an interior decorating school, and Jim was a textiles salesman she had met in a class. “I made him a shirt,” Mom said.
“I’m surprised at you.”
“Well, what was I to do?”
“I’m just surprised.” Carolyn ate a grape and spit out the seeds. “Emily Post says the couple should be offered the same room when they visit.”
“You know we’d never stand for that. I don’t think your dad’s ever got over her stacking up with that guy.”
“You mean shacking up.”
“Same thing.” Mom dropped the potato masher, and the metal rattled on the floor. “Oh, I’m in such a tizzy,” she said.
—
As the family began to arrive, the noise of the TV played against the greetings, the slam of the storm door, the outside wind rushing in. Carolyn’s older sisters, Peggy and Iris, with their husbands and children, were arriving all at once, and suddenly the house seemed small. Peggy’s children Stevie and Cheryl, without even removing their jackets, became involved in a basketball game on TV. In his lap, Stevie had a Merlin electronic toy, which beeped randomly. Iris and Ray’s children, Deedee and Jonathan, went outside to look for cats.
In the living room, Peggy jiggled her baby, Lisa, on her hip and said, “You need you one of these, Carolyn.”
“Where can I get one?” said Carolyn, rather sharply.
Peggy grinned. “At the gittin’ place, I reckon.”
Peggy’s critical tone was familiar. She was the only sister who had had a real wedding. Her husband, Cecil, had a Gulf franchise, and they owned a motor cruiser, a pickup truck, a camper, a station wagon, and a new brick colonial home. Whenever Carolyn went to visit Peggy, she felt apologetic for not having a man who would buy her all these things, but she never seemed to be attracted to anyone steady or ambitious. She had been wondering how Kent would get along with the men of the family. Cecil and Ray were standing in a corner talking about gas mileage. Cecil, who was shorter than Peggy and was going bald, always worked on Dad’s truck for free, and Ray usually agreed with Dad on politics to avoid an argument. Ray had an impressive government job in Frankfort. He had coordinated a ribbon-cutting ceremony when the toll road opened. What would Kent have to say to them? She could imagine him insisting that everyone go outside later to watch the sunset. Her father would think that was ridiculous. No one ever did that on a farm, but it was the sort of thing Kent would think of. Yet she knew that spontaneity was what she liked in him.
Deedee and Jonathan, who were ten and six, came inside then and immediately began shaking the presents under the tree. All the children were wearing new jeans and cowboy shirts, Carolyn noticed.
“Why are y’all so quiet?” she asked. “I thought kids whooped and hollered on Christmas.”
“They’ve been up since four,” said Iris. She took a cigarette from her purse and accepted a light from Cecil.