Рита Браун - Pawing Through The Past

"Okay. The tables are already set alongside the gym for breakfast. Susan's having the food delivered at seven-thirty. Bonnie Baltier said she'd be here in time to help me man the check-in table. She understands she has to write something, anything, on the name cards with names only on them. The band will set up tonight when we go home to change. Amazing how many amps those electric guitars and stuff suck up. And I suppose we'll all hold BoomBoom's hand, who's really supposed to be in charge, but by now is Miss Basketcase Crozet High." She parked her pencil behind her right ear. "My second superlative photo didn't turn out so badly. I think it's better than BoomBoom's."

"Me, too," Tucker called up to her.

"Just don't draw a mustache on BoomBoom's, Mom-or at least wait until the end of the reunion."

"Mrs. Murphy, maybe I'll put a blue and gold bow on you for the festivities."

"Won't she be fetching," Pewter meowed.

"Don't be catty," Murphy rejoined.

"Ha, ha," Tucker dryly commented.

"You guys are a regular gossip club tonight." Harry scanned her clipboard, then put it on the nightstand. She put her right hand over her heart. "My heart is thumping away. I don't know why I'm so nervous. I wasn't nervous at our fifteenth reunion." She stroked Murphy's silken head. "People know I'm divorced. Oh, I'm not really nervous about that. They can just hang if they don't like it. I'm hardly the only person in our class who's suffered romantic ups and downs. Don't know. Of course, how many divorced people are dating their exes? Guess it's seeing everybody at the same time. Overload."

"Sure, Mom," Mrs. Murphy purred, closing her eyes.

She snatched her clipboard again. "Fair said he'd be there as a gofer. Everyone will be glad to see him. Half the girls in my class had a crush on him. I think he wants to be there-in case." She again spoke to Mrs. Murphy since Pewter had curled up in a ball, her back to Harry. "Say, can you believe Miranda on that skateboard? Or you, Murphy."

"I can do anything."

"Oh, please." Tucker rolled on her side. "Why don't you two go to sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long, long day."

As if in response, Harry replaced the clipboard and turned out the light.

35

Screams echoed up and down Crozet High School's green halls as classmates from 1980 and 1950 greeted one another. Southern women feel a greeting is not sufficiently friendly if not accompanied by screams, shouts, flurries of kisses, and one big hug. The men tone down the shouts but grasp hands firmly, pat one another on the back, punch one another on the arm, and if really overcome, whisper, "Sumbitch."

Harry, up at five-thirty, as was Tracy, finished her chores in record time, arriving at the school by seven. Tracy picked up Miranda so he arrived at seven-fifteen. Everything was actually organized so Harry sat next to Bonnie Baltier checking people in. Dennis Rablan, three cameras hanging around his neck, took photographs of everyone. Chris assisted him with long, smoldering looks as she handed him film.

Tucker sat under Harry's legs while Mrs. Murphy defiantly sat on the table. Pewter ditched all of them, heading toward the cafeteria for Miranda's reunion. The food would be better.

The class of 1950 arranged tables in a circle so everyone could chat and see one another. Pewter zoomed into the cafeteria, which was decorated with blue and gold stallions built like carousel horses and fixed to the support beams. Miranda had said that Tracy was working on something special but no one realized it would be this special. The beams themselves were wrapped with wide blue and gold metallic ribbons. The room was festooned with bunting. The cafeteria actually looked better than the gym with its huge photographs, then and now, and blue and gold streamers dangling from huge balloon clusters.

Best, to Pewter's way of thinking, was the breakfast room itself. Miranda had sewn blue and gold tablecloths. On each table was a low, pretty, fall floral bouquet.

Pewter noticed Miranda's and Tracy's skateboards resting behind the door. She also noticed that this reunion, forty-two strong, was quieter. There were more tears, more genuine affection. One member, a thin man with a neatly trimmed beard, sat in a wheelchair. A few others needed assistance due to the vicissitudes of injury or illness. Apart from that, Pewter thought that most of the class of 1950 looked impressive, younger than their years, with Miranda glowing. She'd lost twenty-five pounds since the beginning of September and Pewter had never realized how pretty Miranda really was. She wore a tartan wraparound skirt, a sparkling white blouse, and her usual sensible shoes. She also smiled every time she glanced at Tracy. He smiled at her a lot, too.

"Pewter Motor Scooter!" Miranda hailed her as the gray cat dashed into the room. "Welcome to the class of 1950."

"What a darling cat. A Confederate cat." A tiny lady in green clapped her hands together as the gray cat sauntered into the room.

"We work together," Miranda laughed, telling people about Pewter's mail-sorting abilities while feeding her sausage tidbits.

"I am so-o-o happy to be here," Pewter honestly said.

About ten minutes later Harry ducked her head into the room. "Hi, everybody. Aha, I thought I'd find you here."

"I like it here!"

"Folks, this is Doug Minor's girl-remember Doug and Grace Minor? Grace was a Hepworth, you know."

Martha Jones, quite tall, held out her hand. "I know your mother very well. We were at Sweet Briar together. You greatly resemble Grace."

"Thank you, Miss Jones. People do tell me that."

"Your mother was the boldest rider. She took every fence at Sweet Briar, got bored, jumped out of the college grounds, and I believe she jumped every fence on every farm on the north side of Lynchburg."

People laughed.

Miranda said, "Mary Minor is a wonderful rider."

"Thanks, Mrs. H., but I'm not as good as Mom. She was in Mim's class."

"Where is Mimsy?" the thin man in the wheelchair bellowed.

"I'm here. You always were impatient, Carl Winters, and I can see that little has changed that." Mim swept in dressed in a buttery, burnt-sienna suede shirt and skirt. "You know, I wish I had graduated from Crozet High. Madeira wasn't half as much fun, but then, all-girls schools never are."

"You're really one of us, anyway." A plump lady kissed Mim on the cheek.

"I'll take my thief back to the gym," Harry said while the others talked.

"She can stay. She'll come back anyway. It's fine."

"Please, Mom." Pewter's chartreuse eyes glistened with sincerity.

"Well . . . okay," Harry lowered her voice, leaning toward Miranda. "Your decorations are better." She raised her voice again. "Tracy, the carousel horses are spectacular!"

She left them smiling, talking, eating Miranda's famous orange sticky buns.

She ran into Bitsy Valenzuela and Chris Sharpton dragging an enormous coffee urn down the hall.

"Guys?"

"BoomBoom called me on the car phone and told me she was panicked. There wasn't enough coffee so we dashed over to Fred Tinsley's, which got Denny's nose out of joint since Chris was assisting him. I had to promise Fred six months free on his car phone to get this damn thing. E.R. will kill me," Bitsy moaned. "Is he here yet?"