Bowled Over (2 page)

A collector of vintage kitchenware—Pyrex bowls, old utensils, vintage kitchen linens, melamine from the fifties and sixties—Jaymie had found a way to use some of her
collection in partnership with the Queensville Emporium, a 120-year-old variety/grocery store at the heart of the Michigan town. Tourists could now rent a vintage picnic basket, complete with everything they would need for a day on the river or day-tripping along it: the basket contained melamine dishes, utensils, and a vintage tablecloth for their al fresco picnic. A cooler of delicious locally made food accompanied it.

She hadn’t anticipated just how popular the idea would become, especially as the Canadian July First holiday, just the day before, and the Glorious Fourth drew tourists aplenty to the picturesque town of Queensville, with its park overlooking the St. Clair River and Heartbreak Island. There was no prettier sight in Jaymie’s mind than a sailboat gliding down the river on a sunny summer day, and visitors to Queensville seemed to agree that a picnic lunch topped it all off just right.

“I know you like the old items, Jaymie,” Mrs. Trelawney Bellwood finally said, the wood floor creaking under her chunky orthotic shoes, “but I think that the new dishes are so much prettier. Fresher and brighter.”

Jaymie compared the old melamine to the modern stuff that was stacked behind the counter for use in putting together picnic baskets. She had had to rush out and buy up quite a lot of dollar-store dishes when orders had swiftly outstripped her supply of vintage melamine. She was gradually buying up enough of the old stuff to use, and then she could discard the new junk, which she hated. After all, the point was to “picnic like it’s 1959,” as one of her ads said. “Do you think so?” she murmured, in response to the senior’s comment about the new melamine.

“I do!” Mrs. Bellwood said, emphasizing her statement with a rap of her cane.

Shaking her head at Mrs. Bellwood’s comment, Jaymie picked up one of the modern melamine dishes in one hand and one of the old ones in the other. “I just can’t agree. The vintage melamine, especially the Royalon, Boonton and Russel Wright brands, has real color saturation. The modern stuff is just white with plastic transfer patterns. After a few uses, that pattern will be all scratched off, stained, and look awful. It’s cost-effective in this case, but I still don’t like it.”

“I suppose you have a point,” the elderly woman reluctantly agreed. She sighed. “I remember when we used to buy melamine sets for the children to use. Now it’s collectible! But I still think the new items are prettier.”

Valetta Nibley, pharmacist and catalog-order clerk, had locked her pharmacy at the back and joined them near the front of the store, eyeing the display. “You’re never going to get this girl to admit anything new is worth a fig,” she said about Jaymie, winking at Mrs. Bellwood. “If it was made after she was born, she’s not interested.”

“Becca says I was born a generation too late,” Jaymie admitted, referring to her older sister, Rebecca Leighton Burke, fifteen years her senior. “But I don’t think anybody truly appreciates the stuff that they have and use every day. That’s up to future generations. Like now.” She got out the order book and scanned the orders, figuring out what all would be needed for the July Fourth rentals in a couple of days. She hoped she had enough supplies! It all depended on that day’s rental baskets coming back on time.

Planning the baskets was a lot more fun than she had thought it would be. At first she had just intended to include a cooler with hot dogs and commercial potato salad, but her imagination had taken flight, of course, because she loved food almost as much as she loved vintage kitchenware. She wasn’t ready to include “vintage” food with the baskets.
Instead, she had brought in a partner, the chef at the Queensville Inn, to offer the Lover’s Lane basket with wine, cheese and croissants; the Family Fun basket with chicken, two salads and cupcakes for dessert; and the Family Reunion basket, a much larger affair that included the food from the Family Fun basket increased to whatever number was necessary.

The business was getting great buzz, with the
Wolverhampton Howler
, a local newspaper, calling it a “grand little tourism boost.” The owner of a local winery had called her just that morning, wanting to get in on the idea. He would offer, he said, his grounds for the Lover’s Lane renters, and they would get a tour and wine tasting along with their luncheon. She was going to try it out in her next advertisement.

That had gotten Jaymie thinking, and now her mind was teeming with new ideas. Maybe she could include tickets to local events! That would promote Queensville, too. She’d make up a Music Lovers snack basket, with brie, a jar of locally made red-pepper jelly, a baguette, wine and tickets to the Classics in the Park night. And a Day on the River basket would include, along with a lunch, tickets for a ferry ride over to Heartbreak Island and a cruise up the river on a sailboat! The ideas were coming thick and fast; some she could try this summer, but some would have to wait.

The cowbell over the front door clanged, and Valetta looked up to see who was entering. She rushed forward and held the door open as Ella Douglas maneuvered her motorized wheelchair into the store. “We’re going to have to get an automatic door opener installed,” she said, both to Ella and the store owner, elderly Mr. Klausner.

Mr. Klausner glanced up from the newspaper he was reading with a magnifying glass and nodded. He’d heard it before: modernize or die. At ninety-three, he wasn’t in any hurry for either painful procedure.

“How are you today, Ella?” Valetta asked, bending down to the woman.

Ella Douglas, frail and bespectacled, shook her head. “Not too good. If you have a minute, I want to ask you something.”

Valetta nodded and the two moved back toward the pharmacy counter, the discussion clearly necessitating Valetta’s specialized knowledge as a registered pharmacist. Mrs. Bellwood said her farewells, shouted good-bye to Mr. Klausner—whose bad hearing was selective, some said—and tottered out of the store just as another customer entered.

Jaymie stiffened and riveted her gaze on her basket reservation book. Kathy Cooper—once Kathy Hofstadter, Jaymie’s only enemy—had just entered the store. The bad blood between them—mysterious to Jaymie, because she had never found out what had caused it—was so deeply ingrained that Jaymie normally slunk out of the store when Kathy came in. She was a coward—she admitted it freely—but Kathy could be extremely unpleasant when she wanted to be, and it had caused rifts over the years, forcing mutual friends to choose sides in the mysterious conflict.

This time Jaymie straightened her back and took a deep breath. Turning, as Kathy made her way down the aisle, she spotted the little tow-headed boy hand-in-hand with her. This must be Connor, Kathy’s nephew. Jaymie had heard about the little boy, though she’d never seen him. It was a tragic story. Kathy’s much younger sister, Kylie, had been engaged to a guy in the armed forces. She became pregnant, but the fellow was shipped to Afghanistan before they had time to marry. Kylie bought a wedding dress, planning the wedding while she waited for her soldier to return.

But Drew Walker was killed by an IED on an Afghan road, and his body was shipped home in a flag-draped coffin
two days before the baby was born. That was almost three years ago, but Kylie still had not completely recovered from the terrible tragedy. Valetta had told Jaymie that caring for Connor had been left to Kathy and Mrs. Hofstadter, the sisters’ mom, especially at first. Kathy had to have some redeeming characteristics if she was so good to her nephew, and Jaymie was determined to mend their broken friendship from school days.

She moved into the aisle in front of her once-upon-a-time friend and said, a forced smile on her lips, “Hi, Kathy. This must be your nephew, Connor.”

Kathy turned away, as if she had not heard Jaymie, and said, “Mr. Klausner, did you ever get that Dinkle’s Herbal Products catalog I ordered?”

Mr. Klausner looked up, his rheumy eye made huge by the magnifying glass, and held up a magazine. Kathy, her little nephew trotting behind her, advanced to the cashier’s desk and took it, then walked toward the back of the store.

It was as if Jaymie weren’t there. Anger flared in her, but she calmed herself with a few deep breaths. She would not be defeated. She followed. “Kathy,” she said, gentling her voice so as not to frighten the little guy, who watched her with cautious attentiveness. “Kathy, I just wanted to say, I really hope someday we can be friends again. I don’t know what I ever did to make you mad, but it was so long ago, can’t you forgive and forget?” She’d said it all before, but some day the magic words might work.

Kathy turned slowly from looking at a display of herbal remedies along the pharmacy wall and fixed her brown-eyed gaze on Jaymie. Ella Douglas and Valetta were still talking, their voices low, their attention taken by whatever it was they were saying. “The fact that you can stand there and claim not to know what you did just astounds me.”

“But I don’t know, Kathy. I’ve
never
known.”

Kathy turned away from her and moved on, apparently intent on the herbal remedies before her. Ella and Valetta were still talking, but Valetta was eyeing Jaymie, eyebrows raised. Jaymie shrugged. She had tried, yet again.

“I just don’t know why I’m so dry. I’m thirsty all the time and sometimes my breathing just isn’t right,” Ella said.

“Have you told your doctor about this?” Valetta said.

Jaymie turned away, pretending to look at the hair-care products while she debated with herself what to do about Kathy.

“I don’t have a family doctor yet,” Ella replied, her voice thin, with a whiny tone to it. “Bob is picky; he says I deserve the best. He’s even looking in Port Huron, now, trying to find a really good doctor who can help me.”

“You’re lucky to have a husband who cares so much!” Valetta said.

“I know,” Ella said. “He’s been so good to me. A lot of men would have cut and run when they found out they were saddled with an invalid for a wife, but not Bob. He’s a gem.”

“But that doesn’t solve your problem about a family doctor.”

“No, but until I find one, I’m still in touch with Doctor Rajeev in Columbus.” She handed Valetta a slip of paper. “I need this prescription filled, if you could, Valetta.”

“I’ll have it ready in a few minutes. You should tell Dr. Rajeev about your latest symptoms, though.” Valetta moved back into her pharmacy office, locking the door after her and opening the sliding pharmacy window.

“I will.” Ella used the joystick on her wheelchair to turn, and she examined the line of herbal remedies near Kathy, who had her cell phone out.

“Crap!” Kathy said. “What the hell is this?” She tapped
away at the tiny keyboard while Connor pivoted idly on his heel.

Jaymie considered trying to approach Kathy again but decided against it. Her onetime friend was staring at her cell phone with an angry frown while her nephew tugged at the hem of her T-shirt.

“Connor, let go!” Kathy said, swatting at his hand. “Can’t you see I’m busy right now?” The boy began running his hands along the vitamin bottles on the closest shelf, humming tunelessly as he did.

Jaymie covertly examined Kathy’s face. It looked like she’d had a shock: she was drained of color, and was still staring at the tiny screen of the cell phone. It was useless to try to sort things out with her former friend while Kathy was so distracted. Jaymie turned away and was about to call out to Valetta that she’d see her later when the little boy screeched and wailed. Ella Douglas cried out and moved her wheelchair rapidly, and the little boy hopped up and down, his face becoming red as tears trickled down his cheeks.

“Connor, Connor!” Kathy cried, whirling around. She knelt at his side, as he moaned and muttered. “What did you do to him?” Kathy said, looking up instantly at Jaymie, then at Ella.

“M-my footie!” the boy wailed, pointing to Ella’s wheelchair. “She wan o-o-over me!” he howled, his voice catching between sobs.

“Oh no! I must not have seen him,” Ella cried, a look of distress on her wan face, sickly in the fluorescent lighting of the Emporium that glared off her glasses. “Is he okay?”

Valetta came tearing out from the pharmacy just as old Mr. Klausner tapped down the wooden aisle with his cane, his gait a
thump-thump-tap
counterpoint to Connor’s crying,
Kathy’s shouted accusations, Ella’s thin, reedy denials and Valetta’s demands to know what happened.

“She ran over Connor!” Kathy yelled, jabbing a finger in Ella’s direction.

“Not on purpose,” Jaymie said.

“So you know what she’s thinking?” Kathy said, straightening.

“Want Grampa! Want Grampa!” Connor shrilled.

“Connor,
no
!” Kathy said. “Your grandpa doesn’t want you!”

“How could you say that to him?” Jaymie cried, appalled.

“What do you know about anything?” Kathy said, thrusting her face in Jaymie’s.

“Ladies, cut it out!” Valetta said.

“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t—honest!” Ella shrilled, a sob in her voice. She covered her face with her pale, thin hands.

Connor was silent now, his tears drying as his gaze slewed between the adults, watching the brewing storm with interest on his thin, intelligent face.

“Ella wouldn’t have run over Connor’s toes on purpose!” Jaymie said, glancing at the wheelchair-bound woman, who was sobbing into her hands. Valetta knelt by her side and tried to calm her.

“Are you calling my nephew a liar?”

“When did I call
him
a liar?” Jaymie asked.

“I didn’t see him, really!” Ella cried, her voice thick with tears. She put out her hands in an imploring gesture. “Please, is he all right?” She reached out to Connor, trying to grab his shoulder. “Are you all right, little boy?”

Kathy pulled him away, and he clutched hold of his aunt’s leg. “Professional victim, aren’t you,
Eleanor
? Why’d you change your name? Hoping people wouldn’t remember what
a nasty piece of work you were?” She grabbed Connor’s hand and tugged him down the aisle. Connor didn’t appear to be limping as he trotted after his aunt.