The Quaker Café (33 page)

“Wait,” Liz called out across the lobby and passed the doorman who stood obediently with the door held open. “You’re at the wrong location.”  

The Bud man was partially in his truck when he heard the cries and paused. “My Name is Dick,” was written across his name tag, and up close his uniform showed stains from a breakfast burrito.

“Dick,” Liz said, “do you have an order for me?”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the manager approaching.

“Nathan
Hoole?” he said. “I called the room. They refused to accept it.”

“You’ve got the wrong place
. It’s supposed to be delivered to Folly Beach.”

He seemed more annoyed than eager to correct a mistake. “Lady, this is the address I was given.”

“Well, this is the address for the contact, not for the delivery. The delivery is supposed to be on Folly Beach.”  She turned to the manager at her side now and repeated, “The kegs are supposed to be at Folly Beach.”

“Oh,” the manager said with appreciative relief.

“Lady, I got five more deliveries to do. That’s thirty minutes away from here. It’ll take me two hours by the time I deliver and return. It wasn’t on the delivery order.”

“Well, it should have been.”

“It’s not. It’ll be seventy-five extra and I won’t guarantee delivery before five-thirty in the evening. I’ve got to do the other deliveries first.”

“
Five-thirty?  That’s too late. There won’t be time to get the kegs iced down.”  Liz looked helplessly at the manager, who quickly become her ally. He transferred his caustic glare to the driver.

“Good man, you can’t help the lady out here?”

“It’s like I said, seventy five, and five thirty. If she wants to haggle, she can call my boss.”

“Hell,” Liz said, “just stick the kegs in my car over there, one in the trunk and one in the backseat.”

With an expression of relief, the driver quickly complied and handed Liz two papers to sign. She considered writing a comment about the mistake but didn’t want to take the time. She’d call later next week and they could duke it out on the phone.

When Liz went back in the lob
by Grandmother Hoole waited downstairs.

“Liz, will there be alcohol at this event tonight?”

“Grandma, I have to run upstairs. My mother will be down shortly. Will you two stick together and I’ll be back as soon as I can?” They were running late. Liz figured there would be plenty of time to discuss alcohol consumption later. Besides, she thought, somewhat annoyed, she had designated that to Chase’s list of things to do.

Liz threw on a dress, donned a straw fedora she’d borrowe
d from Billie, and regretted her friend wasn’t by her side to help. Billie would have been able to finesse the situation down stairs with a flutter of her eye lashes and a twitch of her hips. But Billie had wanted to stay with Maggie. Liz knew that left her free not to worry as much about Maggie. As always, Billie had risen to the occasion in the best possible way.

After a quick once over with face powder and lipstick, Liz headed back to the lobby on a run
. She always had such good intentions of taking an hour to get ready for special events, but never seemed to plan adequately.

              Her mother
and Grandma Hoole exchanged polite conversation. As she approached them from across the lobby, she was reminded of what complete opposites they were: Grandma Hoole in her loose gray dress with her hair pulled back in a bun, Barbara in her suit, stylish haircut, manicured nails and color-coded make-up. Liz ushered them both out to the car.

“Whoever sits in the back seat, please hold the beer keg upright,” she said as casually as she could
. Then she opened the front car door for Grandma.

Liz’s mother turned and did what she did best, summoned the valet
. She gave him specific instructions on what needed to be done to secure the keg in both the back and the trunk so they didn’t roll or smudge the seat. This took an additional fifteen minutes, but she tipped him generously. Liz knew her mother would get special attention at the front door for the remainder of her stay.

*****

              “After this luncheon, I’m going to find some wig shops that we can visit in the morning,” Barbara said, her mind already made-up.

Liz gave an audible sigh
. “Oh Mom, please don’t. Let it be.”

             
“No harm in looking. I just think for this particular occasion you need to look your best.”

             
When they pulled up to the entrance of the restaurant, Liz was again grateful there was someone parking cars. “Park the car where that keg stays in the shade,” she said and handed over her keys with a five dollar bill.

             
“Yes ma’am,” said the young man who gave Liz a wink and tipped his hat.

             
They walked into a long narrow room with a bar that ran three-quarters of one side of the wall and had eight round patio tables with mosaic tops nestled together in close quarters. In front of the tables to the right, the aunts stood in a receiving line. Lexa’s mother, Louise Lloyd, stood at the end, graceful and elegant in a loose fitting ankle-length emerald silk skirt and an open neck long sleeve white blouse. She had a wide belt at her waist accompanied by an oversize buckle with an emerald stone the size of Gibraltar. She stepped out in front to greet Liz and gave her a warm hug. Liz felt like Winnie-the-Pooh.

             
Sophie emerged from the line to hug Grandmother Hoole, and then they started the round of introductions. The luncheon was lovely. The bridesmaids were beautiful. Lexa was radiant. Around 2:00 things began to break up. Liz expressed her need to get out to Folly Beach and reminded everyone about the bus service from the church and hotel. Everyone lingered over thank yous and goodbyes; Liz hoped that the line would move through the bar swiftly and not dawdle.

Then her mother and Louise
stopped to chat at the front door and blocked the exit. Grandma Hoole stood between Liz and Sophie and averted her eyes from the sights on either side of the room. Sandwiched between shelves of alcohol and a large painting of three caricatures of nude women frolicking on the beach, Liz felt certain Grandma felt caught between Sodom and Gomorrah.

             
Finally Liz could bear Grandma Hoole’s discomfort no longer. She spoke up. “Hate to break this up, but I really do need to get out to Folly Beach.” Her mother and Louise nodded and started to release the bottleneck they’d created.

Before they could get out the door,
Liz’s little niece, Estelle, pointed at the painting and shouted, “Mommy, look at that lady, she looks like Auntie Liz.”  There was a lull in the conversations. Liz turned to look at the painting for the first time, realizing that the  sketch of one woman did have an uncanny resemblance to her. She went crimson from her neck to her forehead. Polite laughter rippled through the group.

Sophie laughed uncomfortably and said, “But that lady has hair, and your Aunt
ie Liz doesn’t.”

When Liz arrived at the beach house, the party was already well underway. Cars lined the road in front. Two small boxy buildings decorated in balloons and crepe paper sat at the entrance of the wooden walkway leading up the side of the dunes to the house. Liz wedged the back of the car as close to the planks as she could get and double parked. She climbed out to solicit some muscle power. Two signs stuck out from the huts. One read,
Welcome Nat’s family and friends
and the other,
Welcome Lexa’s family and friends.
With a jolt she realized the huts were port-a-potties, and proceeded up the walkway in storm trooper fashion.

“Chase!
There are two port-a-potties at the entrance.”

“I knew you wouldn’t like that.”

“This is a rehearsal party. We can’t have the guests pass through an arch of port-a-potties. Did it cross anyone’s mind that this would not be acceptable?” She surveyed the numerous males and ring of empty beer bottles stretching from the cooker to the beach and had her answer.

“We
ll, let’s see what we can do.” Chase remained steady and even-handed. Liz felt the break-point coming sooner than later.

“Where is
Frogbelly?” She scanned the gathering.

“I think he’s over by the pig.”

“Well, point me in his direction.”

A dozen guys in cut-offs and
T-shirts surrounded a drum cooker, each with a beer in hand. Frogbelly stood front and center, working the crowd with a description of a skiing trick he swore he could do without skis. As Liz approached, he stopped dead in his tracks and displayed his perfect teeth from ear to ear.

“Fellows, you are about to meet the prettiest mama of them all
. For those of you who have not yet had the pleasure, here comes Miz Hoole, the woman who gave Nat his good looks.” There was light applause and several raised beer bottles in tribute.

“
Miz Hoole, may I introduce you to Porkchop, our guest of honor?”  With that he opened the smoker and revealed a 125 pound pig. “Pretty as a picture, ain’t he?  We’re keeping him at 260 degrees over hickory with a touch of Jack Daniels sprayed over the coals from time to time. He’s gonna be divine.”

The other young men smiled and raised their bottles in a second toast as
Frogbelly praised Liz and Porkchop simultaneously. There was no doubt which one had their highest admiration.

“
Frogbelly, may I speak with you privately,” Liz said.

“You bet,
Miz Hoole. It would be my pleasure.” He stepped away from the group as he gave them a wink and followed her over towards the wrap-around deck. Nat had spotted his mother from down on the beach where he played touch football with his brothers and friends and began to make his way to the house.

“
Frogbelly, I have a problem with the port-a-potties.”

“
Miz Hoole, I’m sorry about that, but the landlord insisted that we have port-a-potties to handle this crowd. The septic systems for these houses aren’t made for this many people.”

“I understand that
, Frogbelly. My problem is with the placement of the port-a-potties at the entrance to the party. Not exactly the receiving line I’d imagined.”

“Aren’t they cute? 
Your boys helped decorate them.”

“Cute for a KA beach party where your main objective is to impress good-looking girls who find port-a-
potty décor seductive, but not cute for the Lloyds of Charleston nor for Lexa’s grandparents, aunts and uncles.”

“You may
have a point there, Miz Hoole.” Frogbelly lowered his eyes, with a shadow of remorse on his face. “So what do you want us to do?”

“Well, how about if you and I go down and survey our options for placement and then you organize this fine group of muscular young men to move them for me.”

At that moment Sophie came round the house with a box load of paper plates and plastic forks. “Criminy, I had to park about a half mile away,” she said. “There are cars all up and down the road. Liz, do you realize you’ve got two port-a-potties on the walkway up here?”

“Right
. We’re dealing with that at this very moment. Put that box down and come help us decide a better location for them.”

Frogbelly
, Sophie and Liz proceeded down the walkway with Nat and Chase following. The house sat on stilts on top of sand; the ground was uneven and sprinkled with palmetto pines and brush. The wooden walkway provided the only access to the property. A small clearing to the right of the walkway had been leveled to accommodate two cars. On the opposite side of the street was marshland with wild grass and pinto palms. Nothing other than the paved road felt very solid underfoot.

“See, the problem,
Miz Hoole?” Frogbelly said as they surveyed the land. The delivery guy couldn’t see any other place to put them either. His equipment wouldn’t get them up the hill to the house.”

“Well, I think our only option, as much as I’d like something better, is to rope off half of this parking space and put them as far away from the walkway as we can
. Then we’ll have to encourage the younger crowd to use these and not the two bathrooms inside. Can we do that?” 

Frogbelly
had been unusually subdued for a few moments, but then rose again to the challenge. “Consider it done, Miz Hoole.” With the strong arms of several recruits they completed the task.

Gradually small groups including Chase and all four boys began to leave for the rehearsal at th
e church. Tables and chairs had been set-up. All cans thrown in recycle bins…the house in reasonable order.

             
Sophie and Liz did a quick review. They checked the fridge for slaw, potato salad and baked beans. Chase had done his job and picked up everything Liz had ordered; bottles of Pepsi, RC Cola and Cheer wine chilled in the coolers. The kegs were iced down. A barrel of individually wrapped moon pies sat on the far side of the deck out of the sun.