“This is the right place,” I assured them with a laugh. Unfortunately my laughs can sound pretty phony when I’m irritated. Or so says Susannah.
Delbert at least displayed the good manners to apologize for his tardiness. I graciously accepted his apology and seated him down by Susannah, opposite Jeanette. It would be interesting to see if the two of them made a pitch for the man. Although his type didn’t appeal to me personally, he was certainly a dapper man, pale pink dress shirt notwithstanding.
As for Congressman Ream, of course I seated him next to his wife, to the right of Delbert James. Like his wife, he had dressed formally for dinner. Although he did cut a handsome figure in his dinner jacket and bow tie, he was not nearly as impressive as his wife. Then again, one is never quite dressed without good manners, I always say.
Even I was about to give up on Susannah when she came swirling into the room. I might have known. My baby sister must have caught a glimpse of the elegant Mrs. Ream and decided to outdo her. Not that she could, of course. To my knowledge Susannah does not own any ball gowns, much less expensive jewelry. She does, however, possess a first-class imagination.
If Mama could have foreseen Susannah’s outfit, she would have put off dying for another twenty years. “Outfit” is the only word I can use to describe what my sister was wearing. It was definitely neither a dress nor a pants suit. It was definitely hot pink, and sheer enough to strain soup through. It was both billowing and confining. Parts of it trailed behind her like streamers in the wind, yet in a few critical areas there didn’t seem to be enough of it at all. And as if that weren't enough, Susannah had accessorized her creation with five pounds of cheap glass jewelry and a pound or two of makeup. Had I not smelled the cheap scent of her perfume, I would not have known at first who it was.
“You're late,” I whispered as she flowed by.
Susannah didn’t even glance my way. She was far too busy noticing that Billy Dee was not seated down at her end of the table. This made her scowl, until she noticed Delbert James. With a great flutter of fabric, Susannah settled herself in the chair vacated by Jeanette.
I rang the little brass bell in front of my place. Up until then there was no food on the table except pick-led eggs and beets, and the dill seed bread. Of course I am not counting such items as butter and apple butter, which some of us consider a fruit. Or the four large pitchers of fresh-from-the-barn milk. At any rate, it didn’t take long for Freni and Mose to appear, each bearing a steaming tureen. I directed Mose to put his down at Susannah’s end of the table, and Freni at mine. Then they both stepped back a few paces, as if awaiting orders.
I peeked into the nearest tureen and smiled happily. At last Freni had listened to reason and followed my latest instructions. “The tureen in front of me contains traditional Amish chicken and dumplings,” I announced proudly. “And of course some vegetables,” I added pointedly. Everyone appeared to be listening intently. “For those of you with special dietary needs,” I went on, “Mrs. Hostetler has prepared a meatless version, there in the other tureen.”
A glance at Freni told me that she was pleased I had acknowledged her effort.
“Does the meatless version contain dairy products?” asked Jeanette, without even so much as lifting the lid and appreciating the wonderful aroma of Freni’s cooking.
“Or eggs?” inquired the soft-voiced Linda.
From the corner of my eye I could see Freni frowning.
“Well, does it?” demanded Jeanette.
Congressman Ream didn’t even seem to notice there was a conversation going on. “When do we get to see the wine list?” he asked.
Susannah giggled and I scowled. Both at her and the Congressman. “This establishment does not serve alcohol. That was made quite clear in the brochure,” I reminded him.
Garrett Ream looked first at his aide, then his wife for confirmation. Both of them were nodding. “Helluva way to start off the hunting season,” he muttered.
I did my best to transform my scowl into a glare. “Neither does this establishment tolerate bad language.”
Susannah giggled again, and whispered something to Delbert.
“Well, are there eggs and dairy products in that concoction, or not?” Jeanette was not nearly as distractable as I had hoped.
“Mrs. Hostetler uses only fresh, organic ingredients in all of her cooking,” I stalled. It wasn’t much of a stall.
“Yes or no?” demanded Jeanette. She was standing up now, the purple red of her face clashing with the orange of her hair.
“No,” I said quickly. “Of course not.” Undoubtedly my own face was as red as Jeanette’s. I could just feel the shame. I am not used to lying, and it actually hurts each time I have to do it.