Catching Fireflies(83)

“Will do,” Laura promised.

As she headed home, rather than being terrified about what the future might hold for her teaching career in Serenity, Laura felt amazingly reassured by the knowledge that there were a whole lot of very good people in her corner.



Paula rarely entertained. For years she’d been far too busy with her art, the traveling it entailed and the very insular life she led with her professor husband and Maddie. Only in recent years had she come to understand how isolating that had been for Maddie and how disconnected she’d felt from her own parents. Maddie’s tight bond with Helen and Dana Sue had filled the void left by her own family.

Thankfully these days Paula not only made more time for her grandchildren, but for other women, at least the few in her generation with whom she’d made a deeper connection over the years and counted as friends.

After her promise to Laura, she called Liz Johnson, rather than going directly to Frances. She knew Liz would tell her if her idea to involve Frances in this bullying matter was out of the question. Liz, Frances and Flo Decatur were thick as thieves. She knew that Liz and Flo were not only Frances’s support system, but her staunchest protectors.

They’d only recently returned from a gambling excursion to Las Vegas that had been covered with outrageous reports on the local radio station. Paula couldn’t recall the last time she’d laughed so hard. Though Vegas wasn’t her style, she’d almost wished she’d been along, if only to see the three women carrying on so outlandishly. She was half surprised that Flo, at least, hadn’t come back wed by an Elvis impersonator to someone she’d met on the Vegas strip.

Tuesday, on her third attempt, Liz answered her call, reacting with surprise to the sound of her voice. “What’s this? You emerged from isolation on a Tuesday? I never hear from you before Thursday, and then you only call to verify if I’m bringing cookies over that morning so you’ll have them for that sweet granddaughter of yours.”

“This time I’m on another mission entirely,” Paula admitted. “I need some help.” She described the situation, satisfied by Liz’s increasingly indignant gasps. “Do you think Frances would be up to saying a few words? I didn’t want to ask if it would be too much for her.”

“Her memory medicine has been helping,” Liz said. “Most of the time you’d never know she has a cognitive disorder. And if I know nothing else, Frances will be as livid about this as I am. You can count both of us in for whatever you need. Flo, too. She likes stirring things up. I wish I still had her energy, in fact. Maybe we can assign her to rally all the seniors in town.”

“Would the three of you be able to stop by here tomorrow afternoon?”

“Let me make a couple of calls and I’ll get back to you. None of us have packed social calendars these days, so it should be fine. About four o’clock?”

“Perfect. That’ll give me time to get in touch with Laura and figure out exactly what’s needed and to sneak over to Sullivan’s and try to talk Erik into selling me some thoroughly decadent cake. I seem to recall you love coconut with lemon filling. Shall I see if he can whip one up for you?”

“Just thinking about it makes my mouth water, though no one ever made one quite as good as my mother’s, rest her soul,” Liz said. “I’ll make those calls. Unless you hear from me otherwise, you’ll see the three of us tomorrow at four.”

“Thanks, Liz.”

“Don’t thank me. There’s nothing like a good cause to make me think I’m young again. See you later.”

Paula hung up, satisfied. And then she picked the phone right back up and used her powers of persuasion to get that cake for Liz. Luckily, Erik was the kind of chef who responded readily to a challenge. At the mention that no one’s coconut cake had ever lived up to Liz’s mother’s, he was all over it.

“Give me till the end of the day,” he told Paula. “I was looking for something new to put on tomorrow’s menu as the dessert special. This will be just the thing.”

“You’re a good man. What do I owe you?”

“Just tell my wife what a saint I am,” he said.

“I doubt she needs reminding. Helen was always a smart woman.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, but a man can always use extra brownie points.”

“Then I’ll be sure to pass the word along,” Paula promised, shaking her head as she hung up. Aside from her closeness with her grandchildren these days, what she enjoyed most was seeing the unmistakable love between her daughter, Maddie’s friends and their respective husbands. Though her own marriage had been solid and exactly right for her, there was something about the open affection among the younger couples that filled her heart with joy.