Edith Mallory was the only person he knew with a serious profile for philanthropy. Why couldn’t he call her? He couldn’t, that’s all. Given their history and the crucifying injury to her brain—even considering that she was now a believer—he could not do it, though he occasionally stared at the phone with good intentions.
On the upside, Hastings was home; Nurse Robin had passed along a favorable report. He needed to come up with the perfect book for Hastings, but nothing from his own shelves, of course. All Creatures Great and Small would be commendable, or perhaps The Chronicles of Narnia. He must give his selection a good deal of thought and consult with Miss Mooney.
Petronius woke only about midday, and as usual, greatly wearied. The evening before he had been at one of Nero’s feasts, which was prolonged till late at night. For some time his health had been failing. He said himself that he woke up benumbed, as it were, and without power of collecting his thoughts . . .
At last, he was a bookseller reading a book. He would take it with him tomorrow to Happy Endings.
Cynthia busied herself with two trays of lemon squares for the swearing-in. Barnabas snored and their cats slept, as he settled into his chair by the fire and let the visceral power of Quo Vadis flow into a second reading of Henryk Sienkiewicz’s novel set during the reign of Nero.
• • •
THERE THEY WERE on the front page, a bunch of hillbillies out for a joyride in a pickup truck—Barnabas hanging his head out the window after the fashion of dogs in trucks, and a number of arms wagging from the truck bed. Photo credit: J. C. Hogan.
Can you Spot Our Leading Citizen In This Picture??
Yes, that is Father Tim, our Leading Citizen, driving his new pickup truck (an older model, but new to him)! Riding upfront is Barnabas, his Irish wolfhound/Bouvier (JCH check splng) mix, and Dooley Kavanagh, Sammy Barlowe, Pooh Leeper, Jessie Leeper, Coot Hendrick (a Leading Citizen semi-finalist!) and Bouncer, a sort of corgi like the Queen is crazy about or maybe a dachshund >>
‘We were just having fun,’ said Father Tim Kavanagh, who received 236 votes!
Are you having fun? We hope so. Life is short, right?
cONGRATUlations to Father Tim Kavanagh!!!
Following this journalistic debacle, in which he was quoted as saying something he had never said, was a twenty-year-old photo taken soon after he came to Mitford, in which he had no wrinkles, no wattle, no bifocals, and considerably more hair. This piece named him the winner of what was to be an annual contest, herein called ‘an election by the People and for the People.’ He learned that he was to claim his prize of a free top-of-the-line spray tan treatment by December 15, or forfeit the prize.
A Revolution On Mitford’s Main Street!!
He scanned the piece.
“. . . cost between ‘$100k and $200k.” The tanning solution “made from beet juice and walnut extract.” Amazing. Blah, blah.
“You could watch a video except they lost the video in the move from Bristol. “You do NOT need to watch a video to have a successful spray tan experience,” says Fancy Skinner, who is wearing Tan Number 74 or the Palm Beach. Number 74 is somewhat darker than the West Palm Beach but . . . blah, blah, blah . . . a total revolution . . .
Interviews with spray tan customers. “You just go in and take your clothes off and press the green button,” says Ms. Esther Bolick, “and after you get sprayed,, a machine blows you dry.”
“When asked how the experience made her feel, Ms. Bolick said, “It made me want to go shopping.”
Esther Cunningham Returns Home Yayyyy!
Here was a photo, obviously vintage, of Esther with a beehive hairdo and an astonishing resemblance to Carol Burnett back in the day.
Former Mitford mayor Esther Cunningham returns home this afternoon from Charlotte where she was outfitted with not one but TWO stenTs!^&
She is also recovering from pneumonia and will need a lot of rest so back off, people and let her GET WELL SOOn.
If you send flowers remember Ms Cunningham CANNOT tolerate lilies unless you cut the stamens off. BTW stamens can be harmful to cats did you know that? So cut them off no matter what OK? It is actually the anthers not the stamens but the anthers are ON the stamens. Use scissors or take a vacuum cleaner upholstery brush and suck up the anthers. This is hard to describe so call me if you have to,—7615, Ext. #3.
‘Hello, Vanita?’
‘Hey! Congratulations, Father! People are so glad you won! I’ll bring you a ribbon kind of thing to wear. I hope you’ll wear it proudly!’
‘I see I was quoted as saying we were out having fun—in the truck. Did I say that?’
‘Mr. Hogan said that if he was you, which he isn’t, that’s what he would say.’
‘So Mr. Hogan spoke for me, correct?’
‘Yessir, he did.’
‘Aha. Well. And nice job, Vanita.’
‘Oh, thanks. I really appreciate that, comin’ from you.’
‘Keep up the good work,’ he said.
Then there was the Hint, titled ‘Deodorizing Woolens.’ He tried to read it, but couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
• • •
‘IT’S NOT TRANSFERABLE,’ said Shirlene. ‘But if Homer is really cute, like you say, it might be transferable.’
‘Blackmail, Shirlene.’
‘Okay, okay, it’s transferable. Who do you want to transfer it to?’
‘Let me get back to you on that.’
• • •
RAY CUNNINGHAM, the very personification of hail-fellow-well-met, was looking frayed.
‘I’m meetin’ two of my girls here in a little bit an’ drivin’ to Charlotte to bring Esther home.’
‘Great, wonderful. I hear she’s doing well.’
‘I was down there with her a few days. It was tough.’
‘I’m sure of it.’
‘We nearly lost her.’ Ray looked away, cleared his throat. ‘Pneumonia, stroke, blocked artery—a cluster, is what they called it. She’s not herself, Father. Nossir, it’s not Esther talkin’. She said tell you she’s not runnin’ again.’
‘Doctor’s orders?’
‘Just says she’s over that mess. Wants to go on th’ trip out West, like we planned. Says she looks forward to smokin’ that peace pipe with th’ Indians.’
‘A change of heart!’
‘She won’t inhale, though.’
‘No.’
‘Says it’s very generous that they’d sit down with us, much less pass th’ pipe.’
‘I’ll drop by as soon as she’s up to it. What’s the prognosis?’
‘Doctors say she’ll be fine. Built like th’ Titanic, one said; which would’ve been okay if wadn’t for th’ iceberg.’ Ray looked dazed. ‘I was gon’ make baby backs for her homecomin’ but the doc says glazed carrots, green peas, like that—no more baby backs. Glazed carrots. I don’t know nothin’ ’bout glazin’ a carrot.’
• • •
VANITA DELIVERED THE RIBBON KIND OF THING. A discreet navy blue with a metal medallion inscribed MLC.
‘Mitford’s Leading Citizen,’ she said. ‘You will pass it on next year to your successor.’
She begged him to wear it. He said he would, but not twenty-four/seven.
• • •
ABE POPPED HIS HEAD IN. ‘Mazel tov!’
On his way to a real estate closing, Mule dropped by to offer felicitations. ‘I voted for you,’ said Mule. ‘And I think Shirlene did, but I don’t know about Fancy.’
The Collar Button man stopped in for a handshake, perfuming the place with pipe smoke, not a bad thing.
His wife sent flowers from Mitford Blossoms. Calla lilies, anthers and all, which gave the sales counter a certain distinction.
At four-thirty, Esther Bolick plopped her cake carrier on the counter.
‘Congratulations,’ she said, sour as a pickle.