Monday, May 30
However, I reckoned without Michael's apparent enthusiasm for my company. Obviously he'd decided I was a kindred spirit here in the wilderness. Or perhaps only the least unpalatable female camouflage available. Whatever. In the light of day, surrounded by dotty relatives, my resolution not to waste time on ineligible bachelors evaporated rapidly. And so from the start, the second party seemed almost as a continuation of Mother's.
"I have a sense of deja vu," Michael said, shortly after arriving. "Didn't I picnic with these same people yesterday?"
"Yes, and ate much the same menu you'll get today," I said. "Welcome to small town life."
"Speaking of food," Rob said, and he and Michael headed for the buffet table.
"Michael's right," I told Pam. "This picnic has almost the same cast of characters as Mother's."
"It's a pity the return performances include Mrs. Grover," Pam said. "After all the stories I've heard about her antics yesterday, I'd have thought she'd be persona non grata everywhere in town."
"She does have a gift for offending people, doesn't she," I replied. "I suppose we're underestimating the local dedication to Southern hospitality."
"Or Mother's ability to twist arms." "Also a pity Barry had to come," I said, glancing around to see if he was nearby.
"Oh, which one is he?" Pam asked.
"The one following Dad around like a puppy," I said, pointing. "He's been doing it all afternoon."
"Is Dad that entertaining today?" Pam asked.
"I don't know," I said. "I've been avoiding them. Actually, I think Barry's doing it to make a good impression on me. Steven and Eileen probably put him up to it."
"Hmph," Pam said. "I don't see them."
"They stopped over on Cape May on the way back from a fair."
"So we're partying without the guests of honor."
"Yes. Theoretically, they're supposed to be down here tomorrow so we can go pick her dress."
"I'm not holding my breath," Pam said. "Neither am I."
I felt it was very shortsighted of Eileen not to come. Both other brides were using the occasion to assign me new projects and extract progress reports on the old ones. Although if I reciprocated by trying to get either of them to make a decision or cough up information, they would gently rebuke me for being a workaholic and ruining such a nice social occasion. I hadn't expected to need the notebook-that-tells-me-when-to-breathe at a party, dammit, so I was taking notes on napkins. With two out of three brides present at the picnic, my pockets were getting rather full of napkins.
I joined the mob at the buffet table and discovered, to my irritation, that there was only a small bowl of Pam's famous homemade salsa, and that was nearly gone. Rob and Michael were industriously shoveling down what little remained.
"Is that all the salsa left?" I demanded. Michael and Rob froze, then edged away guiltily.
"Dad got into it," Pam explained.
"He always does," I said, scraping a few remnants off the side of the bowl. "You should have made two bowls and hidden one."
"I always do," she retorted. "It's not my fault he found them both this time. He's getting better at it."
"You mean your dad ate two whole bowls of salsa?" Samantha asked incredulously.
"Dad's very fond of my salsa," Pam said.
"It's very good," Barry pronounced.
"Wonderful digestion for someone in his sixties," Jake remarked. "I can't even look at the stuff without having heartburn for days."
"Dad can eat everything," Pam remarked.
"And frequently does," I said. "How well did you hide the desserts?"
"Here, Meg," Mother said, handing me a plate. "Have some potato salad."
"I don't like potato salad, Mother," I said.
"Nonsense, it's very good," Mother said. "Mrs. Grover made it." Not, to my mind, a recommendation. I examined it for telltale signs of ground glass or eye of newt.
"Oh, Meg, there's your friend Scotty!" Mother said, pointing out a new arrival. "Scotty and Meg grew up together," she explained to Michael, who was looking dubiously at Scotty's disheveled, potbellied form.
"I've been a little more successful at it," I said. "Scotty's in training to become the town drunk."
"Meg!" Mother said. "Is that necessary?"
"Well, somebody has to do it. Scotty's certainly the best qualified."
"He's had a little trouble finding himself," Mother said. "I'm sure he'll do just fine as soon as he finds something that suits his abilities."